Every Trip Needs a Mishap or Two

If the internet at the café we are at was anything less than dinosaur slow, I would’ve looked up a quote about perseverance or overcoming obstacles or something else similarly cheesy and inspiring, but as things stand with the internet pokiness, you’ll just have to imagine something fitting.  I’m sure you’ve all had one of the experiences we just had, where you got yourself in a true jam, which seemed hopeless, then by some chance managed to snatch cheerful victory from the jaws of a terrible day.  Ours began like this:

Joel (while driving, to S+S in the back seat): You two want to check out the winery where Tanja and I got married?

Steve: Yea, definitely, but its past 5 now, won’t it be closed?

Sarah: Doesn’t matter, I’d still like to pop by.

Joel: Yea? It would be fun to just spin by, let’s do it. Mount Massedon Winery here we come.

Sadly though, to Mount Massedon we did not go. We took a right onto a gravel road that was meant to head to the winery, but which after about 250m turned into a clay road instead. Had the road crews been a little more diligent with their trimming, we might have been able to read this sign and avoided the adventure to come (but really where’s the fun in that?)

The sign reads “DRY WEATHER ROAD ONLY.” After the heaviest month of rain in the past 12 years, we were definitely not in dry weather.  As we crept deeper into the eucalyptus forest and farther down the hills, the little rental car began to slide a bit side to side in the road. This wouldn’t have been a problem had we been on the road we thought we were on – which shortly afterwards would have become paved again and popped out into civilization – but on our road, we quickly realized we were coming up to a sizable little creek with steep clay hills on both sides. Problem. Turns out the road we were after was two roads further up the main road, and what we had wandered onto was a forest service road. So, seeing no way forward, we turned around and headed back up the hill we’d come from. 

The four of us (thankfully Joel and Tanja’s baby boy was at home with Grandma) got particularly quiet at we approached the big clay hill that wound back up through the forest. Joel gunned it a bit and the car, despite a little sliding, nearly, NEARLY, made it up before the wimpy front tires lost their grip and sent us sliding into the ditch. As they put it in Oz – we were “truly bogged.”

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If that photo doesn’t look that bad, check this out:

No problem though, we have a cell phone! Joel whips out the cell, whispers in slight disbelief that the battery is on its last bar, and quickly rings his mom, Ruth. He manages to get out the name of the road but just as he’s yelling “Tell them to bring a 4-Wheel Drive tow truck!” the phone dies.  Time to start walking.

Fortunately, Joel’s stepdad Ray has a 4X4 truck and his trusty iPhone 4.0 is able to track down the forest we’ve found ourselves bogged in. Sarah and Tanja walked out to the main road to meet him and Joel and I worked on getting sticks under the tires of the car. The following conversation ensued:

Joel: Well, worse come to worse, we could just ditch the car, forgo the security deposit, change our names, and never use that rental company again.

Steve: I guess so. Hardly seems ideal though.

Joel: No. But really that’s the worst that could happen.

Steve: Except maybe if Ray’s truck gets stuck too. That would be worse.

Joel: Ah yea, that would be the worst case.

Take a wild stab at what happened next.

Ray’s truck did manage to get the rental out of the ditch, but couldn’t get it up the hill (just 6 feet short of safety). But in the process, his truck became “truly bogged” too in the ditch. Damn. The only option left to us was to back the rental down to a turnoff and let Ray go ahead past us into the bush to see if he could find a way through. As we were putting this together though, Ray managed to get a hold of a bloke named Marcus, who amongst other professions (firefighting) had his own bush rescue setup on his truck. Excellent. Ray went off with Tanja and Sarah through the woods, leaving Joel and I to wait for the arrival of Marcus on the scene. Just in case, we took a water bottle and a jar of baby food (once a Boy Scout…). 

Sure enough Marcus arrived shortly afterwards in a truck with monster tires, a V8 350 engine, and all sorts of towing apparatus. Marcus himself looked like he might be able to get us out of there without the truck though, as he was roughly 6’6”, 250, with bright red hair and big Blundstone boots. Hallelujah.

As it turns out, Marcus is used to rescuing vehicles that are half swamped in rivers so our little bog problem was child’s play for him.

As Joel puts it, Marcus was one “fair dinkum” kinda guy (solid, salt-of-the-earth fella) and got us right back up that hill. In the meantime, Ray (hereto known as The Hero of Bogland) and his trusty iPhone had found a way through the forest and had brought Sarah and Tanja back home safely. Several hours after our initial descent, we all shared a few pizzas and beers at home, spiced with that special blend of adrenaline that comes with what passes for close calls to us city folks. 

Iced Tea in St. Kilda

It has been a scorcher here in central Melbourne for the past couple of days, and to take advantage of the sun at a proper place, Steve and I headed to the beach!  After a day+ of trekking around the city hitting up parks, rooftop bars, and other people-watching locales (I’ll not overfeed our dear readers and provide too much “first we did this, then we did this” vignettes), we hopped on bikes to head to the water in the area of St. Kilda where big trees, scantily-clad Aussies, and an amusement park hugs the seaside. 

We abandoned our bikes in the CBD (central business district) due to 35ish C/85ish F weather and a lot of bitching and moaning from yours truly who enjoys a casual bike ride as long as the seat is comfy as a Caddy.  These bikes, though free and graciously offered to us by our Airbnb hosts, were road bikes, and too uncomfy for me to be an enjoyable companion for the day…much to Steve’s chagrin. 

It proved a wise choice, as we were able to stretch our Melbourne Tram knowledge and enjoy a lovely mile+ walk along the river to catch the right Tram to take us to the water. 

St. Kilda, upon first entry, is an awful lot like Coney Island when approaching via the Tram (Steve experienced this subway ride often when he lived in Brooklyn by falling asleep on the train several times and ending up in Coney Island at the end of the line).  One is greeted with residential neighborhoods that give way to some dodgy pubs, offers of pole dancing exercise classes, and then a token amusement park called “Luna Park.”  The screams and number of teenage summer bums whirling around upside down in the heat were enough to turn our 30-something stomachs, so this park experience did not even come close to making it onto our agenda for the day. 

The beach itself rests on the bay, not the ocean, so the water, I imagine (I now realize that I didn’t even touch my toe into it - oops), is quite warm and calm.  We found a patch of grass to picnic on and work on our freckles before realizing we were the palest Canucks on the beach and should probably retire to the shade.

We wandered down Alcane Street, ogling tanned hipster passers-by and window shopping, before realizing that one side of the street in particular houses all of the cafes and restaurants, while the other is mainly shopping (in hind sight, we realized many streets in Melbourne are like this – good on you, Melbourne).  This allows for the afternoon sun to be shielded by the lines of café umbrellas, under which we happily jumped on a table when one opened up.  Cakes and tiny goodies are a fad here, so after our iced drinks, some reading, and journaling, we invested in a “nut bar” to maintain our good relations with the café workers and justify our sitting in their shade for one more hour.  A small price to pay…

Incidentally, I’ve run into a funny phenomenon which I can only imagine will continue throughout our journeys.  I tend to crave iced beverages the moment the weather goes above “sweater” season.  Perhaps it’s due to the iced tea that had sat in every fridge of my life from May to September (thanks, Mom and Bubs), or maybe it’s as a result of what an acupuncturist told me the one time I succumbed to the needle-based torture that I am, by nature, very hot-blooded.  Contrary to the acupunturist’s suggestion of soaking my feet in cold water before going to bed (um…no thanks), I crave iced tea to the degree that Batman is engaged the moment his light hits the sky (silly reference, I know, but there’s a Batman Avenue in downtown Melbourne, and for some reason, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head).  The iced beverages in Melbourne, however, are of a different variety.  Steve asked for an iced latte or coffee or something the other day and ended up with a glob of iced cream in espresso.  I asked for an iced chai at our little St. Kilda café and received a puzzled look before suggesting the barista make a hot cup of chai and dump it over ice.  Readers, you may be thinking, “Sarah, get over yourself and drop your silly habit,” but people, I’m telling you – this craving is for real and I gotta figure out how not only to ask where the bathroom is in several different languages, but how to get an iced beverage to quench my Batman thirst!  (Steve would role his eyes at this knowing I’ll survive this quirky need, but damn…you can take the girl out of humid New England summers, but you can’t take the summers out of….you know.)

I have digressed - I apologize.  St. Kilda was a blast of breeze and sun on a hot day, and the day ended in a lovely Tram and bike ride home for several applications of after sun cream to tame our northern hemisphere skin.  An absolute recommendation if you ever make it to Melbourne in the “summah” time just make sure to ask for the hot tea dumped over ice and a nut bar.  You won’t be disappointed. 

P.S.  Geraldine – the yoga mat’s still with me, and I’ve been engaging in some Bikram-like sessions every morning since our arrival.  Gotta strengthen up my legs in order to carry the packs!  

Adventures Down Under

After 24 hours on planes, endless movies, 2 books, some late night noodles in Hong Kong, and the trial run of the neck pillow/eye mask motif, it was an absolute pleasure to see Joel, smiling with a new Aussie summertime tan at the gate in Melbourne. He whisked us off in the car through the golden rolling hills, scattered eucalyptus trees, and wildlife that surrounds Melbourne to arrive at his mom and step-father’s  place outside of town. Ray and Ruth pulled out the stops, welcoming us with scones, jam, and a much needed kick of caffeine so we could make it through the afternoon and evening before finally crashing. 

We’ve spent a bit of time exploring Ray and Ruth’s beautiful property and the surrounding area – we thought we’d share some of the images.

The view of the back acres of the property. We saw a few kangaroos hanging out in the shade of the trees in the long dry grass.

Ruth and Ray have put an extraordinary amount of effort into the property over the last 12 years and have created a picturesque ranch style home surrounded by blooming gardens and vibrantly coloured trees.

There are no native cats in Australia, which has led to a huge number of colourful native birds. These are a pair of Galah Parrots that hung around the property and squawked at us from time to time. A side note – galah is also an Aussie slang term that means a goofy person who laughs a lot. We ended up running into lots of wildlife in a short span.

Including the chickens (or chooks as the Aussies call them).

Sulphur-crested cockatoo.

And the king of the parrots we saw – the Crimson Rosella. Red breasted, deep blue wings, with orange piping across the black of its back.

There were also strikingly colored magpies.

Mr. Humbug, the resident cat.

Down the road a bit, there is an alpaca farm! They were freshly shorn and so perhaps a little embarrassed to have their picture taken.

And last but not least – kangaroos! Apparently a group of kangaroos (or roos as the Aussies call them) are called a mob of roos, which seems pretty fitting. There was a group of about ten on the back of the property one night. They are absolutely massive, the largest standing nearly as tall as a person, and two of them even had a little boxing match. As you can see, they cover a lot of ground with each stride.

Sarah and I took a long walk around the “block,” which turned out to be a lovely 6km (3.5 miles for the Statesiders out there) walk into the rolling hills to see some of the other local properties.

The deep green of the trees and fields of golden grass, smell of eucalyptus and dry grass, and even the feel of the heat, brought me right back to summers in California, spending long days wandering through the open spaces on my bike. Amazing to find the same feel all the way across the world and to see the differences as well.

And then of course there’s been the wonderful time spent with Tanja, Joel, Ruth, Ray, and Otto! The little man now has three words – mama, dada, and otto – the third of which he uses liberally and loudly. Love the teeth. 

We feel so lucky to have been able to start this journey here with Joel’s lovely family, in the company of good friends who have let us get our feet under us, taught us a few Aussie words, and showed us how they do things Down Under.

Next stop, downtown Melbourne!