Goodbye Aus, Welcome hOMe!

Written March 1st, 2014 from Vernon, B.C.

The Final Aussie Email!!! That’s it folks, that’s the truth.  Marina here to talk in your head about our final month in the land down under…

So Orion left off pre Christmas (yes I know we are a little behind…) with the van back in running order and visiting our beautiful friends, Anna, Justin, and baby Jade, possibly the most awesome kid ever.  We were SO happy to relax and refresh ourselves with Anna’s family after the insane amount of stress we had just pulled ourselves through.  We also managed to get a bit of dread work done between Anna and her friend Holly, with the longest dreads I have EVER seen!

So we wanted to hit the ocean before Christmas, and somehow we managed to do it.  Overcoming our doubts about the van, and any fears of it breaking down again (even though we KNEW that it wouldn’t), we hit the road once again for Sydney!  The big scary city of Sydney!  Thrilling…

We had a completely uneventful drive, did some more dreads, and promptly left the city again.  Who wants to spend Christmas in a big old dirty city with no friends, family or a place to stay?? We headed north to the beach!  I chose the beach straight from a map, precisely by it’s name: Whale Beach.  Perfect!

Well, after months of travelling through the deserted desert lands of Australia, we were rather overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people.. Everywhere!  There was no such thing as a empty quiet beach here in this sprawl of population!  I won’t lie that we were disappointed when we arrived at our chosen destination, to find it was surrounded by neighbourhoods and there was only pay parking at the beach.  

But our Christmas plans would not be thwarted!  We had discovered a loop hole.  There was a small gap between the Pay Parking sign, and the No Parking sign outside the parking lot.  And the gap was juussttt big enough for A VAN!  So we did just that.  And it worked.  With our rebellious parking spot, we curled up nice and cozy and fell asleep on Christmas Eve to the sounds of the ocean exactly how we had imagined.  It was hard to think where we had been just a few days earlier, and what we had been through to get us where we were!  A sense of accomplishment indeed.

The next morning we had a small but memorable present exchange in the front seats of the van, and after were pleasantly surprised to see a little restaurant on the ocean opening up for Christmas breakfast.  We had a delicious feast of french toast (with our own supply of Canadian Maple Syrup of course!) and delicious Aussie coffee sitting under an umbrella on the ocean.  Despite the craziness leading up to this day, and the lack of planning, it really became the perfect day.

The one unfortunate thing was that it was a rainy day, not the perfect day for surfing, though the waves were good.  But Orion, in all his dedication, hauled himself out to the stormy seas anyway.  I figured an Aussie Christmas just wouldn’t be complete without going in the ocean, so I too went for a swim.  Despite the rough seas, the water felt surprisingly warm, and we drifted around in the waves for quite some time…

So that about sums up our Christmas.  Nothing special, but something very special at the same time. :)  

We had big plans to reach Byron Bay for New Years Eve.  Byron Bay, the famed music, hippie, surf town.  Unfortunately highly regarded by MANY other people in nearby cities, and also the perfect place for all those people to spend their New Years…

We made it a half a day, camped peacefully in the bush, and then a few hours the next morning before the highway got backed up.  Yepp.  A four lane highway, our half of the road bumper to bumper cars and campers, either parked or just crawling forward slower than a walking pace.

Luckily our mindset was right… Nowhere to be, no one to see, no plans, no deadlines, no commitments.  We just sat back, cranked some tunes and enjoyed the beautiful day and the sound of the cicadas in the trees beside us.

Eventually we rolled into Byron Bay after a seriously long day of driving.  I had heard so many amazing things about this place and had it build up in my mind as this ideal hippie ocean surfing town.  However, every single person from Sydney AND Melbourne combined (or so it felt like) also had that idea and all wanted to come there over Christmas and New Years.  So unfortunately for us, though we could SENSE that the amazing vibe we heard about was here, we didn’t to experience all that much because the poor little town was completely full to bursting with trendy, drunk, loud, city holidayers.  

Despite all that, we did manage to find a way to love Byron Bay.  Orion dove headfirst into the surfer’s life, and spent at least three or four hours every day surfing.  If the waves weren’t good at one beach, we’d drive over to the next bay and he’d ride those ones.  I wasn’t surfing, but anybody can easily find ways to spend long hours at a gorgeous beach with perfect water.  I dosed in the shade, or swam, or walked, or did art.  Somedays I wandered around the town and visited some of the cute little cafes and enjoyed the ever-so-tasty Australian coffee.

I’d like to say that New Years was an amazing life changing experience that I could fill three blogs writing about but I can honestly say it wasn’t!  The party atmosphere in Byron that was verging on craziness absolutely exploded that night and all hell broke loose among the streets! It felt like a scene from a movie, or a play.  On the plus side, the people of Byron had got together and put on a family oriented little street market with music and dancing and food and yummy things.  We stuck mostly there for the night and wandered about the streets exploring.

The beach was terrifying.  There was literally NO space to walk without stepping over drunk people.  Bottles were lying smashed among piles of discarded cigarettes and garbage.  The beach that had seemed so perfect and dream-like earlier that day became transformed into some kind dramatization of what the pits of hell might be like.  Haha.  I know that may sound ridiculous but it really is.  Imagine! Loud music pumping, every inch of ground everywhere is covered in drunken, drugged, screaming, writhing people.  Garbage everywhere, horrible smell, police breaking up brawls with huge batons, sirens flashing.  It really was like that!

Like I said, we stayed safely in the family market and found a decent DJ to dance to for a little while, which was actually really fun.  Other random people who were horrified by the destruction of Byron all grouped together and danced away our frustrations as we bonded together in our like-mindedness to the music.  

Eventually, after being in the chaos and fighting away the dark energies for a few hours, and as midnight drew near, “partying” the new year in seemed like the most foul way to welcome the fresh new beginning that was the cause of the ruckus.  We retreated to the peace and quiet.

And so it passed that 2014 came while we perched upon the sand with warm waves tickling our toes, basking in that little bit of peace, and feeling so much gratitude for it.  And looking back on it now, maybe that really was the perfect way for us to spend our new years, in silence.  Maybe that was the exact thing we needed to focus on bringing in more of for the new year.  Not partying, drinking, making noise, but perfect peace, and silence, and finding those things and contentment when all the world around you is in chaos.

                                                                   ***

And in a few days, it was time to move on yet again.  This time we had one destination in mind, and for the first time ever on this trip, it would be time to turn around and head back the way we came after this one last stop.  This last destination was the Sunshine Coast, Queensland!

Many moons past, when we were still in Perth, we had gone to see an Oka show.  Afterwards, we approached Stu (the didgeridoo player) and told him we were musos (Aussie for musicians) from Canada and missed seeing them play at Komasket since the festival had shut town.  Turns out he and his wife, Shayne, were huge fans of Komasket and missed playing there so much that they invited us to come and stay with them. :)
Nice, except, they live literally on the other side of the country, and Australia isn’t exactly a super small and accessible country.  But we said to ourselves, “If there is any way we can make it up to Queensland (northern east coast) even though we are in Perth (south west coast) we will!”
As chance (or is it..?!?) would have it, we just happened to be only 3 or so hours from their doorstep!  And with a couple weeks left before we headed home, it was only natural that we should zip up there and say hello.

It was lovely to connect with Stu and so inspiring for us to get our asses back in gear with music once we got home!  He reminded us of the joys of creating and sharing music, all the while fully welcoming us into his beautiful family.  We were overjoyed to stay at his house, with a view of the ocean and tucked away in the trees, and also glad to connect with a few other musicians who passed through.   

We also discovered a cute cafe, called Raw Earth, and spent our days between Stu’s house, the beach, and this cafe, sampling all of their raw vegan treats, including coconut almond rice milk for the coffee! Yum!

Another amazing small world incident that occurred was when I freakishly bumped into my friend Sarah, who I very vaguely knew to be travelling in Australia, and had made zero plans of meeting up with.  I hadn’t seen Sarah since about grade 9 in highschool back in Vernon, until she randomly exclaimed my name in surprise as we were exiting the beach in Byron Bay.  Once it sunk in exactly what had just occurred, we discovered that she too was living near Stu, just a 15 min drive away!!  It really is a seriously small world.  

So it was nice to connect with Sarah and Raw Earth, and connect with Stu, his music, and his family, and our time on the Sunny Coast was one of the highlights of our entire trip.

But soon it was time to leave, and get to business.  We still had our beloved van to pass onto it’s new owner, as well as a few odds and ends to clear up which needed a big city to be done.  Luckily, more beautiful people were waiting to help us and carry us along!!  Thanks to my yoga course in India back in July, I had befriended four Australians: Jessie and Steve, Jasmine, and Kirsty.  Jessie, Steve and Jasmine were all from Newcastle (just north of Sydney) though surprisingly J&S had never met Jasmine and had made no plans of coming together. (There’s that small world thing again!) And Kirsty was from Wollongong (just south of Sydney.)

Jasmine’s lovely mom put us up in some comfy quarters in their basement and we lived out our finals days in style.  We did a surf trip up to Seal Rocks after Jessie and Steve were kind enough to lend us a bunch of their top quality surf gear.  Orion got to pick out his favorite from Steve’s surfboard collection, and Jessie lent me all her body boarding gear.  We even had fancy wetsuits! Heh! It was fun, especially for Orion who had been riding a very old and worn out board this entire time.

We did a trip to Wollongong to visit Kirsty, who was also lovely to us.  It was so beautiful to connect again after India, when all the sickness, heat, and stress was gone and we were all back in our elements again.  (Not that we didn’t get along or enjoy ourselves for our month together in India, but it was certainly a testing time!)

And all too soon it was time to go.  I wasn’t ready! I don’t think I would ever have been ready.  But I was excited.  CANADA?!? What?! I live there! I love it there! It’s my real home! But it had been so long… We could hardly imagine!

We were so lucky (or was it luck?!? Hehehe) and we had absolutely zero trouble selling our van.  Perfectly on time, when the time was right, it all lined up perfectly.  The guy was going to university in Sydney and wanted to live in a van.  He payed us exactly our asking price, was more than happy to keep the van’s name Xavier, and eager to learn all there was to learn about the engine and maintenance.  

I will say without shame or embarrassment, that I actually shed a tear or two and choked up as I watched our beloved Xavier drive away.  We had put SO MUCH into that van!  So much intense trials and energy, and just pure devoted unconditional love!  No matter what happened, we always said, “We love you Xavier!  No matter what happens, we still love you!”  And he responded so accordingly.  He loved us right back!  Never failing us, always trying his utmost, keeping us safe and sheltered and protected in so many different places and scenarios, carrying us across the red desert of the outback, playing us our favorite music as we cruised for 6 to 9 hours of driving in one day.  If I could have brought him home, I would have in a second!  But I know he is happy and loved and lived in with his new owner, and that’s all I could have asked for.

So with Xavier gone, it really sunk in that we were leaving.  We rode the train to the airport that final day:  Australia day weekend, exactly one year since we had entered the country, so shocked at the amount of partying and drinking that was going on… Was the whole country always like this?? Only to laughingly realize we had accidently stumbled into the biggest and most celebrated holiday of the year!

We were ridiculously overloaded with bags.  Orion had purchased two beautiful and unique didgeridoos up in the Sunshine coast from a mate of Stu’s.  Steve had given him an old surfboard bag and the didges were taped up and wrapped up safely inside.  I had also decided I couldn’t part with my beautiful djembe I had bought back in Perth that I had carried across the country, so I was lugging that.  We also had two stupidly heavy, stupidly huge backpacks, loaded with almost 2 years worth of memories and experiences and little nick nacks from various countries that we had let collect in the van over the last year.  We also had Orion’s guitar, my ukulele, two yoga mats, and one more daypack, everything completely stuffed to absolute bursting with our stuff.  (This is after selling and sorting out EVERYTHING we could part with!)

I’m almost getting emotional just writing this!  It was such an intense time.  After a 14 hour direct flight to Vancouver, and 8 hours of nothing in the Vancouver airport (“Why didn’t we just leave and do something?!?” you might ask.  Wise you are! We thought of this, but when the time came, we were too exhausted to manage anything except snarfing a couple Tim Horton’s bagels [TIM HORTON’S??? Whaaaat!!!] and find the benches for sleeping on) we hopped on our very late flight to Kelowna.

By this time we had already stood outside in the Canadian cold, breathed in the AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY GOD IT’S AMAZING!!!!!!!!! and felt snow!!! and heard so many hilarious Canadian accents (aboot time eh?) that we were a little acclimatized.

But nothing prepares you for the loving warm hugs from friends and family waiting for you as you round the corner in the arrivals lounge!!  A very beautiful moment, embracing all our loved ones after so long apart, and one we won’t soon forget!

Well… I hate to say it, but this really does conclude our travels abroad for the time being.  It does NOT conclude the ADVENTURES of OM, but it does conclude the Overseas Adventures of OM.  For now, we are happily rooted on home soil, and we are digging our feet in! So glad to be back.

Thank you Canada for being our home country and being so beautiful and free!  And thank you for your winter, despite the cold; it is oh so beautiful!

We wasted no time (well maybe a little) getting back into gear upon arriving home.  After extensive cleaning and organizing of our well-packed possessions, we have actually managed to organize some music!!

Yes, music! We are playing our FIRST CANADIAN GIG in almost 2 YEARS!! Yayyyyy!!

March 29th, at the Om Spirit Ranch… Directions on the tickets, which are available at the Bean Scene for only $10.  

We’ll also be releasing our album that we recorded in Melbourne VERY SOON… So start getting excited with us about that. :)

We would love for you all to come down… To the people that have read to the end of this email, we want to say:

THANK YOU SO MUCH! We write these stories for you!  And when you tell us you enjoy reading them, it warms us to the core!  Please come in March and show us your faces so we can give you giant warm hugs of gratitude!!!

This is not the end… Is it just a new beginning :)

Love

Marina (and Orion)

hOMe

Outback Mechanics: Stranded on a Christmas Morn

February 2nd, 2014 - Vernon, BC, Canada

Orion here.

It was hot.  So hot, dry, and isolated.  The highway itself was busy enough compared to the Red Centre, but it felt empty.  There were vehicles, but they seemed to blast past with rocket engines, with not a care for anyone or anything, leaving a wave of hot air in their wake.  I was collapsed on the baking concrete next to our faithful steed, Xavier.  Marina was sprawled across the passenger seat, feebly trying to hang up sarongs to reduce the sting of the merciless sun.  My clothes, hands, and mouth reeked of petrol.  We were in the middle of an outback breakdown.

Rewind... The day prior, we were happily rolling down the freeway, oblivious to the challenges that awaited us, when suddenly the van began lurching and losing speed.  Again and again it surged, and we knew from our experience with engines that ours wasn't getting enough petrol.  We tried to push it, riding the gas pedal to create different pressures, but finally it died.  We found ourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere, without a clue of how to isolate the problem.  Sure, we crawled around under the van plenty, but on the surface, nothing was wrong!  After some trial and error, we found that if we let the van sit for about an hour, we could go about a kilometre (at about 50km/h on the shoulder) before Xavier would sputter and die again.  And so our schedule began: sit, wait, attempt to drive, sit, wait, attempt to drive...and so on.  And so it went for most of the day.  We managed to keep our spirits up by listening to good music and focusing on the goals ahead,  however, our goals were much further ahead than we realized!  Evening found us about 500 metres from a rest stop, the signs counting down in hundreds of metres as we slowly got closer.  The van had died completely by this point and I was pushing the van up a gradual hill as Marina steered.  And then it started to pour.  It seemed like the worst situation possible (although on the bright side, the rain was incredibly refreshing after pushing a heavy chunk of metal for some time!), when like a miracle, headlights shone up behind me!  A tow truck had seen our pathetic efforts, and at the end of his shift before Christmas weekend, took mercy upon us.  Thanks to his Christmas spirit, he towed us for next-to-nothing, straight to his friend the bush-mechanic.  With that "lucky" turn of events,  the first night of our adventures ended with us sleeping on an amazingly peaceful farm far away from everything, eagerly awaiting our appointment with the vehicle hoist and expert eyes in the morning.

The next day, everything appeared to go perfectly smoothly.  The mechanic thought that the problem was some decaying rust in the fuel tank getting caught in the old pump and filter.  Long ago, the original fuel pump in the tank had been replaced by an electric pump on the outside.  Rather than spending heaps of money and taking the fuel tank down, he blasted the fuel lines with compressed air, thinking that would solve the issue.  We thanked him for his opinion and insight, and bade him farewell.  Back on the road again, we were elated! Until we had gone about a hundred kilometres...  The dreaded surging began again, and within a few minutes we rolled up to the side of the highway, this time under a lone tree, a manoever that we had gotten fairly accomplished at by this point.  

What now?  At least we had narrowed the problem down somewhat.  The compressed air had done something initially, which gave us a slight glimmer of knowledge that could possibly help us down the line.  We got back to our previous schedule of driving and waiting, and also called our mechanic mate in Fremantle and our friendly tow truck driver from the night before to ask their opinions.  We were starting to piece things together, but definitely needed to see a mechanic or at least borrow someone's hoist and get "right in there" to find the root of the problem.  The road signs continued to taunt us with a never changing distance of twenty-or-so kilometres to Yass, a random outback town.  Yass became our beacon of light, the shining goal before us.  Having started the day early, the mid-day sun hadn't yet begun it's reign of terror, but the warmth of the morning promised temperatures of over 40 degrees to come as a side dish to our lunch.  

If we thought the day before had been testing, we had no idea.  The landscape had become hilly, the trees had disappeared, and we found it difficult to make it more than a couple hundred metres before our sometimes hour long breaks.  We tried to use these periods constructively by meditating, staying positive, and diverting our attentions, but the heat had become hard to bear.  The hours ticked by slowly and the temperature rose quickly. 

It was during one of our "restful" breaks that I had a revalation.  A memory flashed in my mind of a story someone had told me about some aboriginal bush mechanics, and the genius ways that they rigged up their cars in the midst of the inevitable outback breakdown.  They used plastic water bottles, strips of cloth, dental floss, straws, and other random items to substitute fuel filters, pumps, or whatever part may have broken or overheated.  From our previous observations, we knew that the problem was somewhere between the fuel tank and the carburator.  So why not just run fuel straight to the carburator?  It was a pretty dirtbag idea, but it would work.  Using some old hose and a two litre water bottle, I siphoned some petrol into the bottle and attempted to rig up a similar siphon from the petrol bottle straight to the carby.  What followed was a lot of spitting, gagging, and swearing under my breath as I tried to set up a successful siphon without wasting all our petrol, spilling it all over the engine, starting a flash fire in the intense heat, or drinking too much of the toxic liquid.  This plan proved to be much more difficult than I had expected.  Our length of hose was very short, so getting the gravity flow started was tough if not "impossible", and things were not going well at all.  We took a break and I crumpled on the pavement, my head spinning from the fumes.  This brings us to where I started this tale: me on the ground, Marina in the passenger seat, and the unforgiving sun beating down on us from directly overhead with complete abandon.  

In my fume-induced haze, frustration began to creep in.  I knew that what I was attempting to do would work in theory, but why couldn't I do it?! Tensions rose in my body and mind as two parts of my brain warred against one another, each with the same objective, but with very different mindsets.  I managed to calm myself and sat quietly for some time, remembering my reverence of the desert in which we were forgotten.  I thought of the aboriginals' attitude towards the great outback: "Country will take care of me. Country always takes care of us."  I found some peace in that ancient thought, and not long after I stumbled upon the skull of a small marsupial in the ditch near the van.  This was a sybolic and reassuring find to me, and with gratitude, I tied it to the roo-bar on the front of the van. I asked the spirit of Country and whatever small animal this had been to guide us to safety, and to teach us to live in harmony with the land rather than fighting against it.  Then I remembered our spare fuel pump.

Since I had done some fuel line modifications in the past with swapping and moving our electric fuel pump, I was familiar with the set up, and got to work immediately.  I quickly disconnected the electricity from the new pump I had installed recently and put the old pump back in. In short, a small length of hose was plugged into the carburator, which was plugged into the old greasy pump, which had some wires running to the battery, which had another length of hose running into a two litre water bottle full of petrol.  We were good to go!  Praying that a flash fire wouldn't start and hanging out the window so that I could reach the bottle of petrol with our insignificantly long piece of hose, Marina turned on the ignition, the pump started, and then she turned the key the rest of the way.  Yew! The engine started without a hitch, and we were on the road, the side of the road, that is. 

We attempted to get up to highway speed, but with only two litres of petrol, it was going fast.  We coasted in neutral as much as possible down hills and tried to conserve, but eventually our bottle ran dry.  We sputtered to a stop.  Although we were stopped again, we had made some significant headway, mentally even moreso than physically.

Interestingly, as our fuel bottle drained, our fuel tank filled up!  I didn't realize how efficient engines were at recycling fuel until I watched the needle steadily rise as the levels in our bottle disappeared.  The bottle emptied shockingly quickly, and we were worried until we noticed the levels in our petrol tank!  We already had two thirds of a tank, so we also had to keep an eye on our fuel guage so that we didn't accidentally overflow!

The next part of our adventure involved my trekking off to a random farm in the facemelting heat to try to find a longer piece of hose.  If we could rig up the same system with a longer hose, we could siphon out twenty litres into our jerry can which would surely get us to Yass.  As I walked on the cracked and sunbaked dirt, I contemplated simply cutting a hose from their irrigation system, but my healthy respect for karma helped me decide against it.  I arrived at a weird farm with heaps of buildings.  After wandering for a while, I saw an old woman and I approached, saying, "G'day!" as cheerfully as possible.  She jumped with a horrified, "Ah!" and proceeded to glare at me and demand what I wanted.  She turned out to be a horrible, whiny, selfish witch, but I eventually sweet-talked her into leading me to her son, who was a classic Aussie gentleman, happy to help.  I followed him, explaining my woes as the old bag's wails echoed behind us.  After some time, a left victoriously.  I had a long length of the same irrigation hose that I had comtemplated stealing, some random parts to help with siphoning, a spray bottle, and various other farm equipment that might help in an outback "situation" such as the one we found ourselves in the midst of.  

A side note: to all of those people who are grumpy and selfish, just think of what would have happened if this situation had gone differently!  If the hag had turned me away, my first order of business as I exited their property would have been to cut one of their most obviously used irrigation lines and take the hose I needed.  Instead, I got what I needed without any damage, and the farm owners got some major appreciation from me and their own good karma.  

I trudged back to the van, the sweat evaporating off my skin as fast as it accumulated.  Though my body was dragging, I was stoked.  I showed my conquest to Marina and we celebrated by sitting in the shade for a few minutes before resuming the battle. 

After some more petrol drinking and fiddling, we were set!  Our new and improved set up included the long hose which dangled dangerously near the tire 'en route' from under the slightly raised hood, through the window, to the jerry can at my feet on the passenger side.  Marina was in less of a fume-trip than me, so she took the wheel while I held a surgical glove around the tube entering the jerry can to try to stop as much of the fumes as possible from "hot-boxing" the van.   And off we went!  Everything ran perfectly, and as we descended the hill into the tiny town of Yass, we whooped with exhausted joy.  We ran out of petrol at the exact moment that we coasted into the town's only petrol station.  

Phew... The danger was past.  Henceforth there would be challenges, but nothing as intense as being stranded in the outback.  We filled up the jerry can and contemplated our options. It was the 22nd of December, and it was Friday night.  After several phone calls to everyone in Yass and several people from Canberra, we found that no mechanics would be working.  Everyone got off work in about twenty minutes, and wouldn't be back until after the Christmas weekend.  Many of them had New Years in their plans as well, so things were looking pretty bleak.  It looked like we'd be spending Christmas with the other Yass locals at "The Australian," the popular pub/hotel that reminded me a bit of the Prancing Pony from The Fellowship of the Ring.  We had made some rough plans and had gotten about as far as where to spend the night, when we thought it might be smart to ask some locals for help.

A man had pulled up next to us to check his oil, so I said hello with a classic, "How you goin'?"

The man looked up from his car. "Yeah mate, good! Yas all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, mate," I continued, "just havin' a bit of a bit of engine trouble.  Do you know much about fuel lines? Or have any mates that are mechanics? Or semi-mechanics?"

The man thought for a minute, then set down his tools and picked up his phone.  Holding his pointer finger up, he dialled a number and leaned back against his car's grill. A short conversation later, he beckoned, "C'mon." 

We  locked up Xavier and hopped into his Holden.  He mentioned some things about mechanic mates, a guy with a hat and big white beard, and "The Australian," where we were headed.  We parked and followed him into the most Aussie pub EVER.  There was a solid age group from 18 to 85, and everyone knew everyone!  Our guide said hello to practically every person in the pub as we pushed through throngs of drunken locals to reach the bar.  Nearly there, we ran into Jay, who turned out to be the dude with the big white beard.  He had already had a couple rounds, and didn't seem too keen on helping with the van.  He pushed us over to his son Peter, and our guide's introduction of, "Peter, how's your Christmas spirit feeling?  A'right?" seemed to do the trick.  Apparently Peter's Christmas spirit was full-on, and he gave us directions to his shop and drawled, "I'll see yas 'round nine or ten in the mornin', depending on how many stubbies I get my hands on tonoight, mate!" 

We were so grateful.  To shorten this already long tale, I'll abbreviate.  We hopped back in the car with our friend, got our van, then followed him with our sketchy setup to Peter's shop.  We camped outside his shop and were grateful for the toilets and showers, despite the gigantic spiders. 

After all this, the problem was a cheap fuel filter that had been added onto our new pump without my knowledge.  It clogged up right away due to its shittiness, and caused all of our problems.  Such a simple thing caused so much pain! And yet it all worked out in the end.  It always does!  We got everything sorted in no time, hit the road once again, and soon found ourselves in Canberra with our lovely friends and a roof over our heads.

Until another time,

Orion (& Marina)

P.S. As you can see from the date above, we're home! Keep your eyes and ears and social medias out for upcoming gigs and our highly anticipated new album, The Tipping Point! A few more travel blogs entries, and we'll be back in BC business...

It was a Melbourne Mash, It was a Dreadlock Smash!

January 7th, 2014 - Coolum Beach, QLD, Australia

Hello again!  Marina here this time with one of the last blogs ever for our great journey..  We're counting down the days until we return to Canada at last!!  And we are so excited.

Unfortunately I have been seriously disorganized in terms of email writing, and I have a fair amount to catch up!  We'll split it into two or three emails..  By the time you get those, we'll be on the plane back to Canada! SERIOUSLY.

So we left off upon reaching Adelaide.  Welcome to our world of being city bums.  There wasn't too much for us in Adelaide.  We discovered that we were horrifyingly short of cash, so we posted a dread ad and sat in a parking lot and waited for people to respond.  Actually. We were lucky to find a parking lot on the side of the road not too far from the city that we literally just sat in, waiting for dread clients to call.  We didn't really have the cash to drive around every day, and there wasn't much else for us to do, so we just hung out and watched our new favorite show Scrubs on youtube waiting for the call.

We did get a few calls!  And we managed to make a bit of money.  We made enough to decide that we wanted to leave.  The great city of Melbourne was not far off, and we felt it calling us with it's music, art, dreads, and good friends.  Thanks to our Perth clients' word of mouth, we had one client waiting for us in the little township of Digby, in the middle of nowhere between Adelaide and Melbourne, and we decided to head off.

I won't bother to describe too much of the trip to Digby.  We have done a LOT of driving and this short distance didn't wow us too much.  We had some difficulty finding the turnoff, but with helpful directions, we arrived safely that night.  The next morning we got to work!

Our client was actually a 7 year old!  Her mother had gotten in contact with us to do her dreads and we made a special trip to their tiny town for our youngest client yet!  Jazzie was a very wild and free little girl with extremely tangly hair.  Her mother Tammy had attempted to do dreads herself, but needed help, and had called in the professionals!  Jazzie was very patient and well behaved, but she was still 7, and a total of 5 hours of work ended up taking all day beacuse of the extremely frequent breaks we were taking for Jazzie to run free and stretch her legs.

But we were okay with breaks as Tammy's six children were keen to show us around their beautiful farm.  Crisp moist air, tall rich green forests and thick luscious grass was the landscape in the rainforest world.  Peaceful farm animals roamed freely about the property, and we enjoyed soaking up the simple peace of the country lifestyle.  An epic game of hide and seek brought us back to being kids again and gave us a closer tour of the property.  Goats for milk and cheese, chickens for eggs, sheep for wool, a horse for riding, dogs, cats, bunnies, guinea pigs for playing...  What more could a kid need for a perfect childhood?  Or an adult for that matter...

The next morning we said a fond farewell and hit the road again.  This time, the drive was part of our destination!  The Great Ocean Road is one of the top things to do/see in Australia.  It runs along the south coast of Victoria (the state) starting from just past the South Australia border all the way to Melbourne.  The road is famous for its gorgeous ocean views of the rocky, stormy, wavey coasts, and for its winding, swooping curves as the road follows the free form of the mountainous coastline.  

We stopped at such gorgeous sites as The Twelve Apostles: 12 giant towering rock spires that rise out of the water seemingly out of their own accord and defy the power of the huge waves that repeatedly crash against their narrow bodies.  An amazing look to the west showed the glare of the setting sun, with the massive sillouetted bodies of the apostles standing firm in the ocean spray.  

It seemed like every 5 kilometers there was another pullout for some other amazing rock formation created by the waves in some surreal shape.  The were spires and pillars, archways from land to island rock formations, archways between giant pillars, secret tunnels where waves would force themselves through with immense power, and lone bird inhabited grassy homes that somehow developed way out to sea in this majestic place.

High atop the mountains where the road spiraled along the coast, the views of the coastline were surreal.  The massive waves were tiny white specs, massive boulders were tiny pebbles, and the ocean stretched away to infinity.

Along the way there were peaceful little towns that I absolutely LOVED.  With only a single tiny strip of shops, most of these towns revolved around this country's greatest love: the ocean; and the most loved thing to do in the ocean: surf.  Every single town felt like a potential future place to live; I could totally imagine living in a cute little house near the ocean in a tiny hippie town one day... One day!

After our enjoyable and extremely winding drive down the famous Great Ocean Road, up towering cliffs with stunning ocean views of dramatic swells and shorelines, and around the sharp turns of the shapes of the mountains, we were finally approaching the great city of Melbourne.

Melbourne! Home to 4 and a half million people, and considered the arts and music centre of Australia.  We were so excited to visit and enjoy this cultural city.

So it was back to the city life. (Or so we thought.)  I went out and got myself another barista job, and we found a place to stay with some friends.  It was nice to settle down even if for a short time.  But so much changed for us in that such short time...  You can never rely on anything!  But that's the beauty and secret to enjoying life.

We planned to stay almost til the end of our trip.  We rented a room in a house share with two lovely ladies, Anna and Aiala (pronouced Ay-ella) and planned to stay til halfway through January.  We unpacked the van and got cozy in our new fabulous home.  Rich red walls, hardwood floors, high ceilings, stained glass... It was truely a fabulous room!

But things have changed for us...  After months on the road, complete freedom, income coming to us solely from our now thriving dreadlocks business, the life of the 9 to 5 work no longer gelled with our flow.  Orion just couldn't seem to find a job that worked for him, and I started to hate mine with a passion!  Cafe life just isn't for me any longer.  

We set aside all attempts at having "normal" jobs and focused on the dreads.  Suddenly we were booked solid!!!  We decided to leave Melbourne early and clients came far and wide, and we were busy with work straight through.  As we planned our departure, our bank account slowly filled back up, and our smiles got bigger as we confirmed our suspicions that doing what you love ALWAYS pays the best.

Another amazing and unforgettable opportunity came our way in Melbourne as we dug into the music scene.  We met an amazing guy, Steve, from Chasing Records, who offered to set us up with a second OM album, for free!!  Incredibly talented, and owning a full glorious studio set up, but new to the market recording scene, our exchange was a new album for us, and a handle on a solid work profile for him!  Both of us getting major benefits.  We set a date and got right to recording.

Throughout our Aussie travels, Orion had been writing some really unique and different material.  Busking on the streets of Melbourne helped him solidify and arrange the songs to his liking, using a street battery amp and a loop pedal.  (I hadn't been involved in this much because I was busy working at the cafe...  Yet another reason why a "normal" job just isn't for me!)  When we started making plans for the album, Orion and I started arranging the songs for the two of us and it was so exciting seeing our new sounds and ideas take fruition.

The music is all loop based, as it was mostly written with a loop pedal.  There's a lot more of an electronic vibe to the songs when you combine some gnarly tasty synth basses with some sick hip hop drums.  Steve, our incredible producer, happens to kick ass at programing drums, and it was such a delight to combine his skill with Orion beat boxing, which is what he had been using for street performances.  Orion's lyrics are mostly hiphop verses, with sung choruses and random things from me here and there.  It will be so great to hear the final collaboration.  We began to see that we really had a musical connection with Steve, and our vision for the music was really similar.  

We spent two 12 hour recording sessions recording and recording and recording and finally all the tracks were down and semi organized.  When our stomachs were gnawing at our rib cages with hunger, after 8 hours straight on the first day, we ordered pizza.  The second night, Steve's lovely partner Amy cooked for us.  Such beautiful people!

We are now wriggling in our seats WAITING for the finished product to come through.  It will be such a delight to deliver these fresh juicy tracks to you Canadians when we arrive home in LESS THAN A MONTH!  What an amazing thing to look forward to.  Gratitude!

So with all our dreading slots booked up and finally completed, the album tracks recorded and ready to be produced, mixed and mastered by Chasing Records Steve, we were ready to hit the road once more!

Our plan was a nice simple journey to the capitol city of Australia to visit a former dread client from Darwin, lovely Anna, with her sweet 2 year old Jade and husband Justin.  And no everyone, the capitol of Australia is NOT Sydney.  That is correct.  NOT Sydney.  It is a random, and small, and isolated, and somewhat odd city called Canberra.  For a capitol city, there's not many people.  Its VERY hot and VERY dry and dead.  There are a lot of memorial monuments, fountains, fancy government street names, buildings and signs.  All in all.. BORING.  Though a swim in the river was extremely refreshing after the insanity and wild ride of our attempt at a drive there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...  Yes, our "nice simple" trip to Canberra turned into a ridiculous 3 day hectic fest of madness, engines, hoses, petrol, toxic fumes, 40 degree heat and outback exposure, and not knowing HOW we were going to survive this.  All this taking place only a few days before Christmas!  As they say, shit went down.  

Unfortunately for your now peaked interest, you'll have to brace yourself for the next email!!!  Haven't you ever heard of a CLIFF HANGER?! 

I will spoil it slightly and tell you all that we did survive and are perfectly okay, and eventually exactly where we intended to end up.  Somehow the world always works out that way if you trust it to...

Until next time,

Marina (and Orion)

P.S.  Happy belated Christmas and New Years!  We will be flying home on the 28th of January straight home to little Vernon, B.C, Canada.  We would LOVE to see some of your lovely faces when we get there.  Keep in touch! Look forward to a sweet CD release party soon after our arrival as well! (As soon as we can get album art and printing and all that fun stuff done...) 

P.P.S. Check out Steve and his work with Chasing Records at www.chasingrecords.com.au

P.P.P.S. Happy birthday to me, I live on a beach, happy birthday to me, while all of you freeze! :)

I Didn't Climb Uluru

October 20th, 2013 - Melbourne, VIC, Australia

Hello all!  Orion here this time.  The past few weeks have been some of the most eventful of our entire time in this fabulous, rust coloured country.  I'll do my best to keep it summarized, but hang in there, because this might be a long one...

Where did we leave off?  Ah, yes. Darwin!  Our first impression of Darwin wasn't mind blowing, but as Marina told you, we came to love it.  Once we discovered the underground scene, we found that Darwin fulfilled all of our qualifications for a fantastic place.  We left friends and memories behind to hit the open road once again.  By the time we left, the "build up" was in full swing, and the temperature and humidity were nearly unbearable.  Sleeping at night was very difficult. As we left, we had a bittersweet goodbye with that lovely tropical city.  Though we were sad to go, the road called, and the prospect of cold desert nights was highly appealing.

Before departing, however, one of our dread clients offered us the use of her air conditioned home so that "Masta-M" could give the original Rasta Masta dreadlocks again.  Marina spent the next 22 hours yanking on my hair and giving me the most perfect skinny locks that I'd always dreamed of. Though I was in immense pain for parts of it, it was worth it. It's been two weeks now and they are already mature.  The apprentice has officially become the masta. We enjoyed the gracious gift of our friend's king size bed, shower, and mind-expandingly succulent raw cheffing, then bade her farewell.

We spent the next few weeks and 3000 kilometres on an epic journey down the "red centre" towards Adelaide, exploring the many national parks and beautiful places along the way.  This is that story...

Our first stop was Litchfield National Park.  Though it is only a few hours out of Darwin, we arrived near dinner time because of one last market day in the city to say goodbye.  We camped just outside the park next to a perfectly spherical boulder significantly larger than our van.  It seemed to be perched, ready to roll, and it was a powerful spot to get back into "road-mode."  An itchy head on my part made for hours of late night photography which was well worth it. Finally, I joined Marina in the van and slept like the giant rock watching over our camp spot.

When many people think of Australia, they visualize red desert, red desert, red dunes, red bushes, red rocks, red desert, and red desert!  In reality, there is so much more!  There is a lot of desert, for sure, but Litchfield and our journey down to Katherine was quite the opposite.  We spent most of our time hiking in the hills, relaxing in the perfectly pure streams, and swimming under waterfalls.  The streams are amazing.  Visualize one of the perfect mountain streams from BC, complete with deep rock pools and all, and then crank up the temperature!  It was like being at home, but rather than frantically jumping in and out of the water, we lazed around, snorkeled, sat under the falls, and enjoyed the perfect peace while letting our bodies heal as they sat weightless in the pools.  We also explored another spot with a huge waterfall in a setting similar to that of an alpine lake, hiked around the beautiful hills, and marveled at the tantalizingly climbable rock faces in all directions.  We took advantage of every non-crocodile-infested waterhole, and luckily, there were many.  It was fantastic. 

When we arrived in Katherine, we immediately noticed the difference in the air.  The sun was still intense, the air was still hot, but the humidity was gone!  Ah, glorious, glorious dry heat.  It felt so good.  We kept our sights on water though, and we managed to find some more amazing places.  The Katherine Gorge had a big river with a couple hundred metres square monitored for crocs.  We swam there, wondering whether it would take someone getting chomped before they would notice a new croc, and looked down the river at the beautiful cliff walls of the Katherine Gorge rising out of the water.  It was wonderfully refreshing.  After swimming we saw a little wallaby that was nearly tame, and went right up to it and hung out with it for a while. 

The next waterhole on our list was the Katherine Hot Springs.  I was a little skeptical as we arrived, for two reasons: 1 - We have AMAZING hot springs in BC, and 2 - It was definitely hot enough outside.  I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go in!  I definitely didn't want to get any hotter than the air outside.  Luckily, the springs aren't actually heated.  The water is kept at a constant 32 degrees celcius due to the temperature of water underground in that area, but there isn't any volcanic action to bring the water up to boiling or anything.  I'd call them more like "luke-warm springs," but it's all relative I guess.  As far as I know, there aren't any truly HOT springs in Australia, or at least in the centre.  The water was in a narrow canal that was so clear that it looked like it was only a few centimetres deep, when in reality it was up to my chest.  Upon entering the canal, you were immersed in a tropical paradise.  Giant palms stretched overhead selflessly offering shade, thick ferns lined the edges, and underwater was the purest, most beautiful tropical blue you could ever imagine.  The body temperature water was also amazing, because if you closed your eyes and floated, you could easily forget that you even had a mass of flesh surrounding your brain.  It was quite surreal, and we spent half the day there enjoying the little canals and pools.

Eventually it was time to go, but we didn't leave sadly, as there were more springs en route.  The next stop was Mataranka, another beautifully forested area with two perfect waterholes.  Bitter Springs was the first one, and it was like something we had never experienced before.  The perfectly clear, deep water, combined with a rich underwater life cycle made for a unique experience.  We brought our snorkels and paddled down the river marvelling  at the crazy plants, algae, logs, turtles, and so many brilliant colours of the water.  Mataranka Springs came next, and was a nice contrast from Bitter.  Rather than a myriad of crazy things to look at, Mataranka was a small network of brilliant turquoise pools, perfect for lounging in for eternity.  The colour of the water was like so many swimming pools try to imitate, with the white sand on the bottom, blue sky above, and perfect mixing of the two in the phenomenally clear water in between.  We said goodbye to what we thought would be the end of our experiences with water, and went on our way after thoroughly enjoying the beautiful H2O.

One day, we saw a sign for a random town in the middle of the outback a few kilometres off the road, and decided to check it out.  And it was a good call!  It was the typical Aussie experience.  The "town" consisted of two glorious things: a rustic roadhouse (pub/servo), and a bunch of locals drinking and gawkers gawking in it!  The walls were covered with photo IDs, AFL jerseys, random knick knacks, thousands of bras and panties, and about $10,000 in foreign cash.  The vibe was so chill that when I went in to pay for petrol, they asked me how much it came to! I had to go back out and check because I was so taken aback.  It was amazing.  We took advantage of their free swimming pool and not free ice cream before we hit the dirt again.  It was well worth the extra two kilometres.

As we continued down the road, we started noticing an interesting spectacle on the side of the road.  Every so often, amongst the hundreds of termite mounds gathered by the highway, a couple would stick out.  They were dressed up!  They looked remarkably like people, and the clothes made some of them realistic enough to take a second glance.  Roly poly ones, tall ones, skinny ones, fat ones; gangsters, duffers (ravers), business people, rock stars, and a lot of mediocre mud streakers.  Some people didn't have much imagination and just dressed a mound in a T-shirt, but the most creative ones were phenomenal.  My personal favourite was a mound ready to rave.  He was dressed in AFL footy shorts, had a bright neon singlet on, neon bracelets and bling dangling on stick arms, green star shaped sunglasses, a headband, and Nike balla shoes. Surrounding him were two or three of the "streakers," clad simply in dirty Ts, which enhanced overall image.  Ah, the happenings of the outback!  Hilarious...

We also passed many rhyming, inspirational road signs, which were always good for a laugh after driving for four or five hours. Classics such as, "Please arrive alive," and "Stop, revive, survive," as well as more risqué ones like, "We like our lizards frilled, not grilled," and "Drowsy drivers die."  There was also a regularly recurring one that said, "Have a spell," which I still don't fully understand, but find very funny for some odd reason.  It had to do with encouraging people to use the rest stops every hundred kilometres or so.

Suddenly we saw a sign for the Devil's Marbles, a beautiful scattering of giant boulders in the middle of the desert.  We were pleasently surprised, as we had thought that Karlu Karlu, as it is known in the native tongue, was only 4WD accessible.  We spent a few hours exploring the magical place and did yoga on the epic boulders.  I put on my climbing shoes and climbed to the top of the highest boulder as a finale to do some handstands, a somewhat death-defying feat as the climb was not exactly easy, the space at the top was very small, and I was about 25 metres above the ground.  It felt fantastic.

Thrilled by our experience with the boulders, we sped away and reached Alice Springs in "no time," relatively speaking.  We stopped briefly at Wycliffe Well on the way to see the UFO centre of Australia.  It's a town with hundreds of UFO sightings and a tiny population of three people.  Travelers and locals alike have seen UFOs regularly over the years and many people have no doubt in the stories.  It was an interesting break from the road and their bumper stickers were pretty hilarious.  

Alice Springs is smack dab in the middle of Australia, and is the gateway to several amazing places, including the Aussie icon, Uluru (Ayers Rock).  But before I get to that, I have a few more things to cover.  I'll stick to telling the tale in chronological order. 

As I was saying, Alice Springs is in the centre of Australia, and is sandwiched in the middle of an ancient mountain range.  The East Macdonnels stretch off to one side and are mostly 4WD accessible, and the West Macdonnels slither to the other side, with a few more conveniently sealed roads.  We chose to explore the West Macdonnels as we are without 4WD capabilities.  I think we may have to come back on another trip with a fully decked out four wheeler.  Australia is a mecca for four wheeling, and you can penetrate into some seriously amazingly rugged, untouched terrain.  For now though, we stuck to the pavement. 

As we drove in between the crubling mountains, I was reminded of Leh, with its insanely high yet rounded peaks, and also of a distant vision of himalayan grandeur.  314 million years ago, the Macdonnels were higher than the Himalayas are today, and looking upon the hilly yet powerful landscape, I could easily visualize the not-so-distant past.  Rock solid hevitree quartzite walls remained where soaring ridges used to reign, defiantly jutting out of the rocky hills as if to say, "I dare you to look down upon me.  I've seen more than you will ever see, and still I stand tall."  

We had many adventures over the two days that we allotted ourselves in the Macdonnels, and wished we had our backpacking gear from home.  There is a huge 249 kilometre trek through the ranges that I would have loved to do.  Amazing.  Instead, we swam in several ice cold water holes and rivers, bouldered over the water in deep water solo fashion, and I scrambled to the top of one of the huge ridges overlooking a river.  As the wind threatened to blow me off the hundred metre high cliff faces, I looked over a safari-esque flat bottomed valley dotted with stunted bushes surrounded by rock walls and crumbling mountains stretching off as far as the eye could see.  

We ended our exploration of the Macdonnels by going to Standley Chasm, a water carved gorge made out of solid rock.  It was only about five metres wide at the bottom, and the walls stretched high, high above.  We hopped the rope that said, "Do not  go beyond this point, you risk injury and even DEATH," which was a great decision.  We climbed up a maze of gorges, chasms, and hillsides until we were at the peak of the mountain, looking down at the tiny speck that was Standley Chasm.  We could see 360 degrees around us, and as we stood at the top of a cliff face admiring the view of the range stretching to eternity, I considered the implications of becoming a hermit and living the rest of my days wandering in and amongst these gigantic rock formations.  I decided against it, and reluctantly left the indomitable place behind with awe and respect, forever embedded in my memory as a place of unsurpassed beauty.  Viewed from a distance, the Macdonnels command great veneration, but only when you explore into their depths do you truly discover the sublime secrets that they have kept for millions of years.

Our wheels spun madly again, and another thousand kilometres ticked over on our odometre.  We had more rock to meet:  Watarrka, or King's Canyon - the Grand Canyon of Australia. 

We arrived in the afternoon and proceeded to make lunch in preparation for the Watarrka hike.  It was sweltering outside, but this was our only shot to really experience the canyon, so after a hasty meal of fly covered egg sandwiches (the flies were SO bad for the whole centre of Oz, and they were the worst at King's Canyon. There were literally thousands. In your eyes, mouth, on your face, in your food....disgusting. I think I ate one that was too ballsy to move just to spite it for being too stupid, brave, annoying, or most likely all three.), we hit the trail with five litres of water on my back, wet buffs around our necks, and kangaroo hats hiding our noses from the  baking sun.  The hike was steep and hot, but very rewarding.  It climbed up a steep ridge and then circled around the edge of smooth, dizzying cliffs with not a hold in sight for the climber's eye.  At the top were stunning beehive shaped mounds of stone creating mazes of mini-canyons that you could get lost in for hours.  The trail wound and wove through the mounds, veering off to the giant cliff's edge at convenient view points.  It reminded us of Nepal, but with less mountains and more glorious cliff faces.  We took a side trip down to a sacred aboriginal site in the canyon called the "Garden of Eden," which was a perfect year-round pool of water surrounded by soaring rock faces on all sides.  The hike took us about three hours, but with the intense heat it felt more like five.  When we got back to the van we were exhausted, but energized by the powerful vibrations present throughout the sacred canyon.  We drove late that night, excited about the plan for the next day, and...

Lo! Uluru!  How can I describe this incredible place?  It sounds cliche, but words really can't do it justice...  Neither can photography, video, or anything.  I think that it is one of the most powerful places energetically that I've ever been to on planet Earth, and is probably my favourite place that I've ever traveled to.  

When I first saw photos of Uluru, I thought that it would be a big crumbly hill thing.  Majestic, yes, but nothing like it actually turned out to be.  It blew my mind.  Uluru literally is a rock.  It's a legit, solid ROCK, that's been carved and mutated by the winds, water, and maybe even waves over millions of years.  When our van first approached it and I realized that the faces were completely smooth stone, I was overcome with awe and joy.  What's more, I knew that the stone standing 348 metres above the ground was only the tip of the iceberg.  Like its colder cousin, most of Uluru is hidden below the surface.  An estimated two thirds of solid rock extend beneath the unexplored red dirt.  

After we parked and checked out the information centre, which gave us some insight into the aboriginal history behind the rock, we had to decide how we wanted to see Uluru.  As rock climbers, our first thought was to climb it, but after a lot of thought, we decided against it.  The Australian governement basically "stole" Uluru from the aboriginal people and only recently have they gotten their sacred land back.  Back in the day, everyone used to climb "Ayer's Rock," and chains and handrails were even bolted along the climb.  Of course, back then, no one bothered to ask the aboriginals what they thought of it.  Traditionally, Uluru was very rarely climbed.  The aboriginals only ever climbed it in a rare coming of age ceremony for young men, and it was a serious spiritual journey.  We did a lot of reading on the different viewpoints and decided that we would respect the wishes of the aboriginals and not climb the beautiful rock.  What sealed the deal for me was when I saw a big sign posted by the aboriginal custodians that said something along the lines of, "Please do not climb the rock. Uluru is a place to be enjoyed in the silence and observed, not conquered and stood upon.  Please think of our culture and respect our wishes by not climbing. "  Right next to that was an Australian governement stamped sign that blatantly gave directions of how to climb, safety information and more.  I found it incredibly rude.  Although climbing is not conquering for me, and I would be undertaking the climb in the spiritual spirit of the young men who used to climb it, I decided that I would sacrifice my desire for the sake of others who may watch me climb and then follow with a less respectful attitude.  Often actions are stronger than words.  There was also a significant negative environmental impact due to climbing that we did not want to be a part of.  The water in that area is scarce enough.  Damaging the sources and dirtying the water should not be by-products of visiting Uluru.

Instead of climbing, we decided to walk around Uluru.  We started in the afternoon, and the heat was merciless.  The path was flat and extended around the entire rock, giving hundreds of different views.  As the day progressed, we saw the rock in different lights and shadows, with the ever changing, always inventive backdrop of sky.  The twelve kilometre walk was grueling, but as I trudged along I felt a lightness beneath the weight of my body, giving me relief from the sun, wind, and elements.  It's a feeling that is difficult to describe.  The intensity was still there, but I was removed from it, as if I was insulated from the negative feelings of burning and heat stroke.  It was as if my nerves were tuned to only feel the positive through my flesh.  Perhaps my continually renewed awe as we marched was the cause of it, or maybe it was something deeper.  Perhaps it was an energy that emenates from the rock that attracted the aboriginal people in the first place, and the ceremonies and respect offered from then on over the next ten thousand years only added to it.  Perhaps it was a conscious, benevolent force, urging me to go on, urging me towards...something...

Upon returning to the van, we celebrated with another ancient pleasure from the other side of the world: chocolate.  We parked the van with a great view for sunset, and cooked dinner as the light faded and the clouds blew imperceptibly swiftly overhead, like the time lapse video we filmed as we ate.  The clouds obscured the sun early, and as a result we didn't see the famous red glow of the rock at sunset, but we saw a lesser known personality of Uluru, the stormy desert skies. 

We woke up before dawn and hurried to see the sun rise, to make up for our lack of sunset glow.  We were rewarded (along with about 200 other people) by the classic image of the rock lit up bright red by the first rays of sun.  It was freezing cold, but even with the hoardes of people loading off of tourist buses, it was rewarding.  We snapped some photos, basked in the glow, and then said goodbye to Uluru and drove to the other giant rocks nearby, Kata Tjuta.

Kata Tjuta, or The Olgas, is an area with giant rocks similar to Uluru.  However, instead of one giant rock, Kata Tjuta is a "scattering" of 36 impressive domes (Kata Tjuta means "many heads").  Though lesser known than Australia's monolithic icon, Kata Tjuta is equally amazing.  The highest dome is 546 metres tall; that's 198 metres taller than Uluru!  Kata Tjuta's domes are made of a different rock than Uluru, which was interesting to note.  It is a type of conglomerate.  From a distance, the gigantic cliff faces look like one rock, but when you get up close, you see that the giant face is made up of thousands of little rocks, from as small as a pebble to bigger than a person, smashed and glued together to create one HUGE boulder.  In contrast, Uluru was fairly smooth, and was one uniform rock.  I think Uluru is granite based, which was originally sand, wheras Kata Tjuta is a great many things all squashed into one.  

As you probably guessed, we did some hiking through the epic gullys and gigantic gorges that wind through the many heads.  The day was spent oggling at the rocks, scheming about free soloing, and sitting in the silence of the gorges, listening to the wind, birds, and peace.  At sunset, we were gifted the experience of the red glow over Kata Tjuta, and feeling fulfilled, we packed up the van and left the magical centre of Australia.  I'll keep Uluru forever in my heart as an example of the purity and raw power of Mother Nature.  It is a very special place. 

Once we got driving, we were on a roll!  We had two marathon days and before we knew it, we had reached the overwhelmingly condensed and populated East Coast.  We stopped briefely to see Cooper Pedy, a strange town with a post apocalyptic feel... Surrounding the town are millions (literally) of piles of rock where mining shafts had been dug for opals.  As the opal capital of Australia, Cooper Pedy's landscape has been massacred.  Walking through the fields is not recommended, as open thirty metre deep shafts are left when they are exhausted of gems.  Strolling at night or without paying attention is a potentially fatal undertaking.  Besides the massacred landscape, there are other things that remind you of the zombie apocalypse as you explore Cooper Pedy.  As the land there is solid rock, half of the population lives underground in houses carved out of old mines.  The temperatures are forty plus in the summer and below zero in the winter, and there is always a huge varience between day and night climates.  It isn't a very welcoming place, but it was defintiely interesting!  We went to one of the underground churches to see what it was like living underground and it was actually amazing!  The temperature was perfect, it was sound proof, and because the walls, cielings, and floors were all carved of the same block of stone, it had a really peaceful feeling.  The church also had an amazing carving in the wall of a saint or something: another reminder that everything from the entranceway to the art was made of stone.  Pretty sustainable living if you ask me!  No heating or cooling needed, no building materials except a chisel, and there is no way that you'll need any repairs in at least four or five lifetimes!  Despite the feeling that zombies might leap out at any moment and drag you into one of the pits in the fields to feast, Cooper Pedy was a fascinating place.  

As we left the desert, we felt nostalgic, missing in advance what we had come to love.  We had new challenges ahead of us, challenges involving masses of population instead of unbearable heat.  Challenges that I know are far more testing to me than the baking highways.  But all things in this physical universe must come to an end, and as we approached the spiderweb of sealed roads in the South-East, we steeled our minds for the change of pace.  It started with a few towns, more powerlines, more fences, a few bigger towns, then towns with only short breaks of nature in between, then....the city.  Welcome to Adelaide.

And now I will pass the baton to Marina, who will attempt to describe the utter chaos of millions of people compared to the absolute peace of the outback.  The outback is home to me in Australia.  Sure, the rainforests and mountains and lakes are amazing, but where I feel most comfortable is in the midst of the desert, with nothing but the sun and the red dirt to keep me company.

Until next time,

Orion (& Marina)