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| Bar crew holiday party |
After my glory days in NZ, I moved into a new place in West End (with
some great roommates) and mostly just worked. We travelled a lot
throughout Queensland, and eventually when the contract ended I found a
second job working as a glassy (aka night club bus boy) at a bar in the
entertainment district of Brisbane. Although life was good, I had an
inkling to get out on another adventure, and do something I had been
talking about for a while - a motorcycle trip to Tasmania.
For
those who don't know, Tasmania is a triangular island state south of
Melbourne. Unfortunately, Tasmania is also commonly compared to the shape of female pornstar bush from the 70's (erm, also generally triangular)
and used as the butt of inbreeding jokes by mainland Australians (like
how Portlanders refer to "
Incestacada"). However, it is also one
of the purest places on earth, with heaps of untouched landscape,
beautiful scenery, and hilly, windy, car-free roads that have relatively
high speed limits. In other words, a motorcyclist's dream.
I
packed my bike with everything I needed: A swag (a personal tent, not
the slang word used to describe the style of teenage f***boys), my
backpack full of clothes, food/water, cutlery, some tools, electrical
tape (because I am better than duct tape) and a blanky to appease my
inner Linus. I looked like a hobo who just traded his shopping cart for a Kawasaki, but I didn't care. #preparationiskey
All packed and ready, I throttled south to begin my trip
on a ridiculously hot summer's day. Being a bit naive to the strenuous nature of
traveling long distances on a motorcycle, I thought I could
make it to Coffs Harbour, a midway point between Brisbane and Sydney,
before nightfall. Nope. I ended up spending too much time enjoying Byron
Bay, a beautiful hippie town in New South Wales known for their awesome vibe, weed, and a light
house at the eastern-most point of the Australian
mainland. Around 8pm I realized that I had no chance of making it to
Coffs Harbour, and shot for the nearest campsite. Upon arrival I realized I had forgotten an important tool - a hammer - and had no way to drive the swag stakes (lol) deep enough to create the tension necessary to get the swag erect (innuendos lol) enough to sleep in. Around 4 AM I woke up in my slump of a swag and decided to catch the sunrise, which turned out to be a great decision.
The morning of Day 2 I continued
through Coffs Harbour to Sydney, where I grabbed a hostel bed and
planned my trip for Day 3, where I would catch the night ferry from
Melbourne to Devenport, Tasmania. However, I once again underestimated
the time it took and eventually camped about an hour north of Melbourne
in a mozzie-infested free campsite. The airborne vampires stole my blood,
but they couldn't steal my positivity.
The Great Ocean
Road is an iconic section of road along the Victorian coast west of
Melbourne. The road snakes along the rocky shoreline and boasts amazing
views of the natural geography that has come to make it famous. This
creates the perfect setting for a nice summer drive with your best
mates. However, as a motorcyclist it is a bit frustrating to tail a long
line of slow moving backpacker-mobiles whose driving habits necessitate
signs that say "DRIVE ON LEFT IN AUSTRALIA". Anyway, I enjoyed my slow
ride along the beach and eventually made it to Melbourne to board the 11
hour night ferry to Tasmania.
Aboard the ship, we were
given brochures of Tasmanian tourist destinations to inform us on how best to spend our time in Van Diemen's Land (original name for Tasmania). Much to my
delight, the motorcyclists were given road maps with cycle-specific
information such as asphalt condition, road difficulty, and hazard
frequency (such as construction sites, frequency of moisture on roads,
presence of wildlife, etc). The boat was really nice, and even had a
decent live guitarist who was skilled enough to literally play any song
the audience could throw at him and sound good while doing it.
Although
it was the beginning of summer in Devonport, it was still pretty cold.
Luckily I had brought an extra couple layers, cause otherwise I would've
died. Riding at 115km/h in 10 degree weather really chills you to the
bone, lemme tell ya! My plan was to ride all over the state, hitting
several different hiking spots and riding across some of the best roads.
My first stop was Cradle Mountain. Cradle Mountain is a 1545m tall
mountain that overlooks beautiful Tasmanian lakes and forests. I
traversed around Dove lake, the largest lake at the base of the
mountain. The clarity of the water and the colors of the surrounding
forests, vegetation and geology really reminded me of the many hikes
I've done in Oregon. The cold temperatures and constant threat of rain
reminded me of Oregon too, but the whole environment honestly brought a
positive sense of nostalgia that I really enjoyed. In order to get a
view, I hiked up to Marion's point, a 1,223m lookout with a great view
of the surrounding landscape luckily the weather cooperated for some
nice pictures.
I then left for the Freycinet National
Park and Wineglass Bay in the south-eastern portion of the state. I
stayed the night at a free campsite near the bay, during which I put the
waterproof-ness of the swag to the test (it got a C- tops). Freycinet
National Park is arguably the crown jewel of the Tasmanian national
parks, as it is situated on a mountainous peninsula that contains
abundant wildlife, white sandy beaches and great views of the bay. I
hiked to Wineglass Bay and on to Hazards beach, soaking up the white
sand and boisterous forest. I topped the hike off with some fresh
oysters at a small restaurant in the local town of Coles Bay.
I
went to the capital city of Hobart in order to find a hostel for the
night (I gotta charge my phone eventually). Hobart was a great city,
although definitely much smaller than any other Australian capital city
I've been to. Some of the Hobart highlights include crossing the massive
Tasman Bridge and visiting the ANZAC memorial site. Eventually I went
to a bar where I asked for a Tasmanian brewed beer, to which I was given
a beer called a "Portland Pale", and told it was an "Oregon styled
Portland Pale that was brewed here in Tassie". After doing a mental
backflip, I described that I was personally from the city that this beer
was named and styled after. The bartender didn't care, but I was still
ecstatic to know that Portland, OR was internationally recognized as a
beer city.
The following morning was consumed by a hike to Cape Raoul, a small peninsula that boasts massive rock cliffs and stone columns jutting out from the sea with great views of the southern ocean. After riding a couple hours to get there I was dismayed to find the access road to be graveled, which is absolutely hell when you're on a street motorbike. It is the emotional equivalent of dressing up nice for a dinner at a presumably nice restaurant, only to find everyone in T shirts and ordering finger food. Also the weather that day was somewhere in meteorological limbo between being too warm to wear a jacket, but too windy to be comfortable in a T-shirt. Ugggggggh. Anyway, the hike quickly became completely worth it, providing picturesque viewpoints accessed via beautiful forests surrounded by the smell of the clean sea air. Thoroughly exhausted from three days of hiking, I returned to my bike to make the trip to one of Australia's original penal colonies: Port Arthur.
Port Arthur was a penal colony housing criminals from the slums of England in the 19th century. The penetentiary was revolutionary in that it attempted to rehabilitate prisoners by teaching them a trade: ship building. Port Arthur became a self-sufficient prison, with the ship building business providing enough money to support the entire community living there. Prisoners were forced to do everything from cutting down the trees to the skilled labor involved in completing the ships. In the early the days, the main penetentiary was used as a flour mill. Since the nearby creek had a relatively low flowrate, additional mechanical power was sought in the form of forcing convicts to run on a hamster-wheel style treadmill in order to power the mill. that didnt work well either, and eventually the mill inefficiencies and raising convict volumes required the renovation of the mill into a new prison cell. The building eventually burnt down, and once the tourist potential was realized the remains were reinforced in order to preserve the history of the building.
Portlanders, have you heard of Acro-Yoga? Yeah me neither, but after striking up an early sunrise convo with a couple girls at a campsite the following morning, I found that one had been an acro-yoga instructor in Portland, and claimed it was really popular there. And since I was from Portland, obviously I would love acro-yoga, and we should do it while we wait for our coffee pot to heat up. So there I am, half awake and standing in front of an *ahem* experienced acro-yoga instructor as she lays on her back and places her feet on my hips. I then lean forward and feel my feet leave the earth, supported completely by her legs, and move into a superman-like plank above her. She continued to talk me through several other positions, all while airborne. Yoga can be incredibly cathartic, and aided by the sunrise it created a sensational experience. After realizing it was 6AM and nobody should be awake at that time let alone doing acro-yoga in a random field, I got down and enjoyed my coffee with my new friends like a normal person.
I wanted to do one last hoorah of a ride on my last day, so after consulting my handy Tassie motorcycle travel guide I found a road that was described as "very windy, narrow in places, extra care needed." Hell yeah, that's my route! The road snaked through the western side of the state, twisting through several national parks to access the amazing views of the surrounding mountain ranges. The highlight of the trip was the descent into Queenstown, of which I took a shotty cell phone video from my handlebars and can be seen here:
Descent Into Queenstown: Handlebar POV
After returning to the mainland, I finished the trip back to Brisbane via a stroll along the east coast, traveling through some of the Victorian national parks and eventually camping in a park in a little town near the New South Wales/Victoria border. It was a normal park, except for the fact that the free camping area was shared with several donkeys (yes, donkeys), apparently waiting to go home after working a recent carnival that happened that day before. That's all I gotta say about that. I also visited a casino in Canberra so I could watch the Falcons blow a 25 point lead in Super Bowl LI. Once again, ugggggh.
 |
| The route down to Tassie |
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| The route back home to Brisbane |
Finally, I arrived back in Brisbane. I had totaled 5900km on the bike, through 4 states and the ACT (Australian Capital Territory, the Aussie equivalent of Washington D.C.), and lived to tell the tale. My road trip was over, but the vacation was only half done; I was leaving the next morning for Thailand. Stay tuned for the next post about all that craziness.
I
packed my bike with everything I needed: A swag (a personal tent, not
the slang word used to describe the style of teenage f***boys), my
backpack full of clothes, food/water, cutlery, some tools, electrical
tape (because I am better than duct tape) and a blanky to appease my
inner Linus. I looked like a hobo who just traded his shopping cart for a Kawasaki, but I didn't care. #preparationiskey
All packed and ready, I throttled south to begin my trip
on a ridiculously hot summer's day. Being a bit naive to the strenuous nature of
traveling long distances on a motorcycle, I thought I could
make it to Coffs Harbour, a midway point between Brisbane and Sydney,
before nightfall. Nope. I ended up spending too much time enjoying Byron
Bay, a beautiful hippie town in New South Wales known for their awesome vibe, weed, and a light
house at the eastern-most point of the Australian
mainland. Around 8pm I realized that I had no chance of making it to
Coffs Harbour, and shot for the nearest campsite. Upon arrival I realized I had forgotten an important tool - a hammer - and had no way to drive the swag stakes (lol) deep enough to create the tension necessary to get the swag erect (innuendos lol) enough to sleep in. Around 4 AM I woke up in my slump of a swag and decided to catch the sunrise, which turned out to be a great decision.
The morning of Day 2 I continued
through Coffs Harbour to Sydney, where I grabbed a hostel bed and
planned my trip for Day 3, where I would catch the night ferry from
Melbourne to Devenport, Tasmania. However, I once again underestimated
the time it took and eventually camped about an hour north of Melbourne
in a mozzie-infested free campsite. The airborne vampires stole my blood,
but they couldn't steal my positivity.
The Great Ocean
Road is an iconic section of road along the Victorian coast west of
Melbourne. The road snakes along the rocky shoreline and boasts amazing
views of the natural geography that has come to make it famous. This
creates the perfect setting for a nice summer drive with your best
mates. However, as a motorcyclist it is a bit frustrating to tail a long
line of slow moving backpacker-mobiles whose driving habits necessitate
signs that say "DRIVE ON LEFT IN AUSTRALIA". Anyway, I enjoyed my slow
ride along the beach and eventually made it to Melbourne to board the 11
hour night ferry to Tasmania.
Aboard the ship, we were
given brochures of Tasmanian tourist destinations to inform us on how best to spend our time in Van Diemen's Land (original name for Tasmania). Much to my
delight, the motorcyclists were given road maps with cycle-specific
information such as asphalt condition, road difficulty, and hazard
frequency (such as construction sites, frequency of moisture on roads,
presence of wildlife, etc). The boat was really nice, and even had a
decent live guitarist who was skilled enough to literally play any song
the audience could throw at him and sound good while doing it.
Although
it was the beginning of summer in Devonport, it was still pretty cold.
Luckily I had brought an extra couple layers, cause otherwise I would've
died. Riding at 115km/h in 10 degree weather really chills you to the
bone, lemme tell ya! My plan was to ride all over the state, hitting
several different hiking spots and riding across some of the best roads.
My first stop was Cradle Mountain. Cradle Mountain is a 1545m tall
mountain that overlooks beautiful Tasmanian lakes and forests. I
traversed around Dove lake, the largest lake at the base of the
mountain. The clarity of the water and the colors of the surrounding
forests, vegetation and geology really reminded me of the many hikes
I've done in Oregon. The cold temperatures and constant threat of rain
reminded me of Oregon too, but the whole environment honestly brought a
positive sense of nostalgia that I really enjoyed. In order to get a
view, I hiked up to Marion's point, a 1,223m lookout with a great view
of the surrounding landscape luckily the weather cooperated for some
nice pictures.
I then left for the Freycinet National
Park and Wineglass Bay in the south-eastern portion of the state. I
stayed the night at a free campsite near the bay, during which I put the
waterproof-ness of the swag to the test (it got a C- tops). Freycinet
National Park is arguably the crown jewel of the Tasmanian national
parks, as it is situated on a mountainous peninsula that contains
abundant wildlife, white sandy beaches and great views of the bay. I
hiked to Wineglass Bay and on to Hazards beach, soaking up the white
sand and boisterous forest. I topped the hike off with some fresh
oysters at a small restaurant in the local town of Coles Bay.
The following morning was consumed by a hike to Cape Raoul, a small peninsula that boasts massive rock cliffs and stone columns jutting out from the sea with great views of the southern ocean. After riding a couple hours to get there I was dismayed to find the access road to be graveled, which is absolutely hell when you're on a street motorbike. It is the emotional equivalent of dressing up nice for a dinner at a presumably nice restaurant, only to find everyone in T shirts and ordering finger food. Also the weather that day was somewhere in meteorological limbo between being too warm to wear a jacket, but too windy to be comfortable in a T-shirt. Ugggggggh. Anyway, the hike quickly became completely worth it, providing picturesque viewpoints accessed via beautiful forests surrounded by the smell of the clean sea air. Thoroughly exhausted from three days of hiking, I returned to my bike to make the trip to one of Australia's original penal colonies: Port Arthur.
Port Arthur was a penal colony housing criminals from the slums of England in the 19th century. The penetentiary was revolutionary in that it attempted to rehabilitate prisoners by teaching them a trade: ship building. Port Arthur became a self-sufficient prison, with the ship building business providing enough money to support the entire community living there. Prisoners were forced to do everything from cutting down the trees to the skilled labor involved in completing the ships. In the early the days, the main penetentiary was used as a flour mill. Since the nearby creek had a relatively low flowrate, additional mechanical power was sought in the form of forcing convicts to run on a hamster-wheel style treadmill in order to power the mill. that didnt work well either, and eventually the mill inefficiencies and raising convict volumes required the renovation of the mill into a new prison cell. The building eventually burnt down, and once the tourist potential was realized the remains were reinforced in order to preserve the history of the building.
Portlanders, have you heard of Acro-Yoga? Yeah me neither, but after striking up an early sunrise convo with a couple girls at a campsite the following morning, I found that one had been an acro-yoga instructor in Portland, and claimed it was really popular there. And since I was from Portland, obviously I would love acro-yoga, and we should do it while we wait for our coffee pot to heat up. So there I am, half awake and standing in front of an *ahem* experienced acro-yoga instructor as she lays on her back and places her feet on my hips. I then lean forward and feel my feet leave the earth, supported completely by her legs, and move into a superman-like plank above her. She continued to talk me through several other positions, all while airborne. Yoga can be incredibly cathartic, and aided by the sunrise it created a sensational experience. After realizing it was 6AM and nobody should be awake at that time let alone doing acro-yoga in a random field, I got down and enjoyed my coffee with my new friends like a normal person. 
I wanted to do one last hoorah of a ride on my last day, so after consulting my handy Tassie motorcycle travel guide I found a road that was described as "very windy, narrow in places, extra care needed." Hell yeah, that's my route! The road snaked through the western side of the state, twisting through several national parks to access the amazing views of the surrounding mountain ranges. The highlight of the trip was the descent into Queenstown, of which I took a shotty cell phone video from my handlebars and can be seen here: Descent Into Queenstown: Handlebar POV
After returning to the mainland, I finished the trip back to Brisbane via a stroll along the east coast, traveling through some of the Victorian national parks and eventually camping in a park in a little town near the New South Wales/Victoria border. It was a normal park, except for the fact that the free camping area was shared with several donkeys (yes, donkeys), apparently waiting to go home after working a recent carnival that happened that day before. That's all I gotta say about that. I also visited a casino in Canberra so I could watch the Falcons blow a 25 point lead in Super Bowl LI. Once again, ugggggh.
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