KIWIBOOM

It is truly amazing how many times I have started to write this and then been distracted, now the distractions range from needing to feed the ducks to wandering around Auckland with a (large) box on my head. So this might be a long one people, it will ramble but there are a few choice moments so hang in there.

I love New Zealand, the people, the hot water beaches and even all those damn hills; which are much more enjoyable now the van doesn't overheat. But I get ahead of myself, on route to KiwiBurn the van temp gauge skyrockets and it is quickly apparent that the thermostat was not the problem and the radiator was truly fecked. So the convoy heads onwards without me and wind my way through very poorly signed back roads and eventually rock up to the site 6 hours behind everyone else. Travelling at 60kmh (when not going up hill) really does give you an opportunity to enjoy the scenery, but it was definitely getting old so to arrive on site and find the forward party well inebriated was a welcome sight, Karl 3 bottles certainly earned his stripes that night.

9 days I was in that paddock (well with some time off for good behaviour to go get supplies, at 60kmh AGAIN) and it was by far and away my most favourite moment of my trip and possibly my favourite burn, I certainly have never put so much effort or time into a burn. What started out as a project lightly discussed out the back of Kiwi's domes with beer and a smoke, turned into a complete mission that shaped my whole KiwiBurn right up until that sucker burned. Even with the Burrow at Nowhere I didn't put that much solid work and determination into. It hit me I wasn't just working on a little el-wire project but the centrepeice for the whole festival/ community. Fuck. I know. So after the initial set-up it was down to the task of designing, soldering and installing what elwire we had. It worked out rather well, although if frenchie had cut one more bloody curve I was about to throttle him. By the time burn night came round I think everyone involved was out ready to see it reduced to ash.

As always there is a problem with the sequencing, Kiwi's cat-09 was shonky as and half the channels were less than optimal. So whilst I potter about, Ryan, Frenchie and Kiwi run about getting ready for ignition. It must have been roughly as the sun was setting 6 liters of gasoline was decided to be enough to trigger the fireworks and start the whole show with more enthusiasm than last year. So the plan goes, 2 liters in the mans head, 2 liters in each side, everyone gather at the front by Kiwi and then the burn can begin. Simple. Job done! Well not quite. As it turns out when I felt the gas from the mans head leaking on my arm as I poured in my share, I should have deduced exactly how much fumes would thus have time to build. We all gather round the front and as Kiwi is telling people to get back the first shot from the roman candle in his hands goes off. Way way out to back field the first shot goes, the second bounces off his knee, the third the same but on the opposing side, the fourth however ricochettes into the base and...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLMB8gpEH8c

... it suddenly becomes very bright and very dangerous to be standing exactly where were all standing. As the base of the man decides it is going to attempt flaming orbit I manage to get clipped in the knee by one of the front planks. Knocked on my ass I decide its probably best not to lie down amongst the falling debris I stagger back to the shouts from Skat of "MEDIC!", proper Nam style. Aw Skat. So most the rest of the burn is only visible through peoples legs with Snowstorm feeding me whisky and Anne Bonnie aiding my new Gamy limp. It seems every burn I have to develop some sort of walking ailment. I thus missed some more of the drama with Ants and Ryan having running around with a plank of smoldering fireworks that have yet to go off, people trying to encourage the rumour that maybe something else was in there (yeah like the 6 liters wasn't enough) and the firemen roasting whole branches of marshmallows for the trippers. Apparently the explosion was heard 5km away in the local village, nice. Cannot wait for next year.

Other moments of particular note

Not sleeping - Seeing like 3 sunrises and just wandering around gibbering about elwire and asking Carl for my gift (More later)

Green Fairy - Enjoying Absinthe at the Green Fairy with Bruce and Kathy trying to ignore the bugs that kept interupting my blinkie fix. My neon jumpsiuit I picked up in murder house Geraldton was the perfect accessory.

Acid Saturday - Carried on from the Nowhere tradition but on a much, much wider Scale. I blame the hippies personally.

Sunrise Swim - Naked sunrise swim off the pirate boat with the goldfish. Which I am glad to say other people seen. The water was ridiculously warm which was good on one hand when you are in there, but makes you never want to come out as you know it will be so cold.

Little Moo Van - Was perfect for the festival, it spending each night in a different spot ut just failed to be the art car it could have been. Curtains would have been a good idea as well, I now know first hand about the greenhouse effect.

Sheep End - Having the balls to go right through to the end, not like some of the other camps I can mention...Skullfuck. Matt black is the new black.

Fashion Patrol - Wandering around screaming at people and wedging them into costumes, extreme makeover style. Sleep deprivation can explain alot of my actions that afternoon.

Wendys Box - Where all the possible glowstick and balloon interactions were explored. With a trashy American accent where possible.

Kiwis are Pussy's - Seriously the first night of the festival it is just Snowstorm and me wandering around wondering if we missed something, all of them in bed. Their performance did improve near the end. Just.

Trailer Trash Skull Fuck Wedding - Loving how completely trashed everyone is and trying to hold it together long enough so they can get married. Arnau creating mayhem in the middle of the proceedings with comments about Daves Mom, a true highlight.

Stag Night - Never have so many young adolescents been so thankful to so few, Squirrel and Zeut we salute you. Whilst everyone was distracted by the boobies I took a handful of good soldiers on a covert mission to corrupt the man, with my Nimbin skull/ shroom T-shirt over his head. I love it when a plan comes together.

Gifting - In another moment of blazin sleep deprivation out on the Pirate boat again for sunrise I ask Karl for a gift. One thing that would make my whole year, it would be like christmas. Just let me kick him in the head so he falls in the water. Simple. Yet still he refuses me.

MOOP - Same sunrise on the pirate ship picking a can floating 100ft away in the weeds and screaming MOOP until someone swam out and got it. As I stumbled round the paddock with my gamy leg picking up endless MOOP I often wondered about the viabillity of the Karma notion.

My life since that point to now has more or less been spent between View Road (Where all the kiwi kids are based in Auckland), Piha (Where Ants and Jen live) and beaches. View road is where braincells go to die, Piha where they are reborn again. And that was never more true after the boys 21st. What a truly grand and fitting affair it was, everyone fully kitted out in suits, everyone in decompression mode and $200 worth of bar to be drunk in 30min. Well one thing leads to another, one after party to the next and you find yourself with love boat captain Hi-DIve, cornflake Mel, Hana has no lighter and me (in full smoking jacket mode) wandering around in the drizzle trying to find a light. So things are a bit disjointed but there was defintiely a head long plunge into a MASSIVE pile of boxes to the shrieks of MINE! Wandering the streets in a cardboard box with Mel giving directions. Max's trippy sheep, a very sweet sequen dress, no sleep and just endless View Road hours only interupted by the return of Poppy. Aw Poppy.

After somehow regaining some of my whits (thanks Piha) with Eric, we return to the scene of the crime for Eric's D&B gig which turns into absolute carnage as we demolish his $100 bar tab. Not much of the night is clear on that one, apparently there was some traffic cone injuries, the police were nice and everyone involved felt like death the next day. All day. It was a relief to have the van finally fixed and at a damn reasonable price considering how many hills you have to negotiate in this country. Can you tell I am kind of over all the hills.

What else, what else, well I failed to get into one festival (despites Zeuts hoopin skills) and totally succeeded getting into another one. It was quite decent and ridiculously easy to blag it past the gate with some super glued bracelets and some wild promises to help clean up; Myself and Zuet used the super glue method, the boys the wild promise route. Its why they fled scene early and missed one of the best Reggae acts I have ever seen. Fact. Just dont ask how many live Reggae acts I have ever seen.

About this time the KiwiBurn Lergie finally caught up with me which meant the trip to the Coromandel had to be cut short. Did get to play on the Hot Water Beach under a nearly full moon, burning my feet every 30 or 40 seconds and giggling, hot sand, hot sand I love hot sand. Not medicinal at all, but geology rarely is. So it is back in Piha I find myself recuperating, trying to mount enough energy to escape and rock Paula and Ryans Wedding, for which I have been so cordially invited; think I was still on my ass with my knee bandaged watching the temple burn when they asked.

I KkkkkkkkkknnnnnnnnnnoooooWWWWW!

(apologise for the in joke, anyone who know either HiDive or Kiwi will only get this)

Its been a while and I feel lax, so where did the tale leave off...Hobart, yes I think it was Hobart in Tasmania. By the way for information, the reason for my longer than normal recurrance period on the blog front is due in the most part to actually doing stuff , which is positive.

I feel this may be a long one, could be wrong but we shall see, I warned you. So I made my way to Hobart by way of Bicheno. On arrival I spot a fine tavern to set up shop and wait for the arrival of my host, we met in Launceston when he was steering me clear of the dodgy guy trying to get me to buy a car for him and be a driver for a week. We arrive back at his family homestead in the middle of lower suburbia and I am instantly made to feel at home. Even the Sawn off shotgun falling into two pieces when I was shown could ruin it.

The weekend with Aaron, his uncle "juicy" Mooney was intense but completely worth it. We sat on the top of a waterfall, had a barbie in the park and I even got chased by daleks, very satisfying. When I left on Monday I was totally used to uncle Mooney randomly bursting into pitch perfect impersionations of everyone from the film 300. They are planning to visit the UK, can I sign anyone up for hosting duties? Seriously these guys have good hearts, the amazing saying of "juicy" every 4 or 5th comment and 2 really nice dogs; although they may not be coming across before you get your hopes up.

Wandering through the earliest convict prison at midnight by myself in the dark trying to get a lift I did wander on my decision to hitch to Port Arthur to check out the old buildings. That was about the most scary part of the whole evening, the ghost tour previously was more informative. Although saying that at one building where this bad ass reverend ghost stays one of 3 lantern bearers (I was the rearguard) had to o and knock on the building door. The guide then joking said as there was no answer to go in, into the room on the right. With more than a little trepidation lantern bearer one wanders into this house and starts wandering round into the areas cordoned off from visitors; completely shitting it but so full of peer pressure feels he has to.

After a very nice police officer returns me to Hobart I manage to hook up with Callum, my bartender and friend from Inverness who has moved back home to Tasmania. It was really good to see him and on his turf, we started a very long session in the glorious afternoon sun by the marina enjoying the finest potato wedges (that were sold as chips) that man has to offer. The rest is a blur, there was a pink hat, many bars, some serious ribbing of Oz blokes and more alcohol was sensible. I obviously missed my bus but Callum sorted me a lift to the airport 3 hours away with an old work colleague. My chat on the trip was suprisingly good given the stranger status and the level of my hangover.

Landing back in Melbourne and being dragged to an indie night by some Germans was the only way to defeat that hangover.Although I may have won the battle it certainly won the war. I would certainly recommend St Kilda to anyone visiting Melbourne, there is a definite Brighton vibe about the place.. What was meant to be my staging post for NZ turned into a serious of comical adventures that caught me completely unawares. Missing my flight and spending 8 hours in the airport did little to diminish my feelings towards the place.

Having a welcome party meet you at the airport at 3am does a lot for moral, Karl Poppy and Captain Anne Bonnie merrily led me to a party "near" the airport, damn right it was near I could see the lookout tower. I used the excuse of duty free to pick up some whiskey and it manage to last all the way up some extinct volcano in Auckland to watch sunrise. A very fitting start to my whole NZ experience which I always hoed would be the highlight of this trip. Finally ended up Kiwis domes (guy Chris from Burning Man I met who lives in purpose built water converted water tanks) and it was a fine welcome. Jess from Nowhere randomly found he way here an with Kiwi, HiDIve, Arno, Jess, Ingrid and Arno it was a whole flock of burners. Probably why I ended up buying an old Nissan Vanette an turning it into my first art car. The title Is the Mad Cow Death Project, which is more descriptive than anything else; what the main motivation was behind the project. Look at flickr for photos.

Tomorrow we head for Kiwiburn, project galore, friends to make and brain cells to lose. T'will be a grand adventure. Everyone is wired, everything (as far as possible) is ready and I think the idea not to fit the external cow ears prudent.

Report Ends.

Freakin Nimbin

Freedom to do what I want, be who I want to be and sleep in a bed with clean white cotton sheets and not one fuckin mosquito. It was time to move on and as my grasp of all things temporal had slipped somewhat I suddenly had only 2 days before I was meant to be in Melbourne, then Tasmania. So with my usual style I made a whirlwind exit and it was not till I was bumping my way across the landscape and finally out of Nimbin that I felt glad to be moving again but really was going to miss the rainbow retreat and all who sail in her.

Before I completely leave Nimbin behind in this blog I shall quickly relate my last day to you. Thoughts of departing for Brisbane are quashed totally when the single greatest concentration of rain falls from the sky and starts a small flashflood that starts to make its way through the chill space. Quickly stripping tops off we set about diverting the water and trying to catch the fish that are making their own bid for freedom through the new created stream that is now leading out of the pond. The storm was right above us and at one point there was a crack of lightening so intense that you could smell the electricity and it fried one of the computers. Watching storms from a distance is one thing, when you are perched on top of a hill whilst one breaks above you is another more exhilarating experience entirely.

In celebration of my departure, the whole one fish we recovered and the fact that Craig had yet to go out into town at night we toddled into Nimbin and sunk some piss on the pubs back porch. It was inevitable that the sound lounge would figure in out night and as I was eager for more juice on the latest conspiracy's we didn't stay too long in the pub. Only till closing. Little hairy guy was not on form, however we did speak to Heidi who is a member of the lost generation, believes she is growing the badness out of her in the manifestation of poor dental hygiene but its OK she will grow some more, convinced George Bush is an alien who runs all the gold mines in Australia and is currently homeless after some altercation with the local mayor. Again was not disappointed in the caliber of patrons to this Establishment.

Melbourne was a rushed affair, but I did manage to splash out a bit and with some serious Internet searching I scored a 4 star hotel for the evening before my flight to Tasmania well on the cheap. I don't think I was the sort of guest they imagined when the place was built, damp, muddy and wearing a Freakin Nimbin T-shirt. Feeling quite smug I relax in the expanse of the king size bed, flick idly through various TV channels and take shower after shower. The honeymoon period ran out when the train yard next door completely failed to stop operation and continued all night, after the lullaby of natures elements sending me to sleep every night, this disruption took the edge off what could have been a truly wondrous affair.

Flight was a piece of piss although when they said I had to get a thorough search and my bags scanned, chemically tested, etc I knew wearing the damn camokilt was not the best idea, but its just so damn comfy. People say Tasmania is slightly behind the times, bullshit I say people are just more laid back and don't believe in making things complicated. For instance, at the airport instead of unloading your luggage from the plan onto a cart then onto a conveyor, they just drive the cart right in and you help yourself. Cut out the middle man.

People are friendly, it does help if you are Scottish, glowing in the dark and slightly intoxicated. As I found out when my room mate and me hit the town, nearly blagged free entry in tot he night club after convincing the ticket girl the bouncers said I get in for free if I impressed her. A 10 second burst of the T-shirt and she was onside, but the bouncers intervened and extracted the full entrance fee from me,these were a particularly poe faced variety. What goes up, must come down and so the morning after finds me on a trampoline, in suburbia with no real sense of where I am, kids running about and temperatures way to high for a man to reasonably be expected to deal with his hangover in. The spring imprint on my head from the trampoline lasted all day. A quiet hair of the dog led to another session and me almost buying a car and driving The Hag around Tasmania for a week. Pay cash in hand, I get to see the country, etc , etc. After some more drink and a bit of a smoke the guy starts to get a bit more than flaky so this morning I returned to plan A and caught the bus; which according to The Hag, are just for tourists, he would rather steal a car than get on a bus.

On route right now to Hobart, stopped off at a little place called Bicheno where I have just spent the afternoon scouring the coast for treasure. What is it with me and Australian wildlife, always, always I see more dead animals than alive, small dead penguins dot the coast here. To counter this I'm booked on a penguin tour tonight and I pray no natural catastrophe occurs between now wiping out the colony here. Although maybe if it does happen I can make some sort of costume out of them for Kiwiburn (which is just around the corner and I am particularly excited about), not a very attractive or great smelling costume but certainly unique.

Hanging In There

That about sums up how my life is going currently, not in a bad connotation but getting by, meeting people and having fun, all under the wettest weather recorded in these parts. These parts by the way being Nimbin NSW, a hostel run by my burner friend Wildduck (Doug) called Rainbow Retreat (http://www.rainbowretreat.net/). Kind of ahead of myself though, Hope you all had a great Christmas that wasn't too fraught and a New Year that wasn't too disappointing. Missed you guys.

Christmas with Jess and her family was perfect, it was such a difference to back home which meant comparisons were at a minimum. Last night in Sydney we blagged our way into the posh bar at the top of the tower for a spectacular view that went past slowly, very slowly but felt quite elegant really. Road trip with Jess and Chris brought us to a tidy little hostel where we had a particularly fine session in a microbrewery on route, crashed the hostels staff Christmas night out. Not sure how many days consecutive drinking this is by now but the end is not nearly in site. Just the right atmosphere of family, alcohol, covert smoking and food. Chuck (Jess's Granda) roped me into a just-hit-myself-in-the-head-with-a-boomerang ruse, which I know I am never going to hear the end of but did make me feel right at home.

Hitchhiking. Interesting. It is never a good sign when your driver points out the tree, or more accurately what is left of a tree where he wrote off his last car. Door to door service though and Doug instantly welcomed me in. He has had some seriously epic events happen to him and my heart just went out to him. The setup here supports the more "alternative" traveller with the option for sleeping in a beach hut, gypsy wagon, tree house, tree hut and in my case a storage shed. People come and go, but less go really after the rain started. Like my god am I in Nam tropical rain. Which is yet to stop, roads and bridges flooding, people stranded, phone lines out. Isolated by circumstance truly.

2 Stories stand out, well 3 each is an example of how things have gone since I got here:

1) Sound Lounge- A more dodgy than not smoking cafe where we stopped into after a successful mission to the laundrette; which will culminate in me rolling on the bed in a pile of warm dry clothes. Small hairy englishman starts some chat, he helps out there so we are chatting away quite pub fashion. He starts to tell me his story how he ended up in Nimbin. Basically he was breeding some posh birds, they all got robbed and the police knew about it and covered it up. He revealed that conspiracy and then went onto expose more cover ups higher in the police the hierarchy, which ended in them trying to kill him. However because he was taught by some aborignal people he was able to kill the guy with a boomerang, true story. So he is in hiding in Nimbin but he thinks he has been spotted so he is hiding out in the Sound Lounge. He has more to tell, I'm gonna crack his story out of him on my next visit.

2) Hogmanay - New Years Eve was more wet and cold than any I have ever experienced in Scotland. Night started in the chill space with a fire, watching Eddie your average crooked sort of a fella do more buckets than a whole underage party. Hooked up with some burners who got me to the pub in town, was just starting coming on wasted and there is this little Kiwi dude asking a whole barrage of questions. Distracted him with my el-wire glowing mushroom/ skull T-shirt, not the only time it saved me that night. Pub shuts at 11pm and we hear there is a band at the YHA Hostel, so obviously we are keen, having not spent the last 3 hours outside. Very wet, very dark. Through the trippy light of my flashing T-shirt we walk onwards, ever onwards through the heaviest rain I have experienced, laughing at 3 burners on a standard random burning experience but just so god damn wet.

Through the haze I remember the path being like a river, telling a hairy irishman with a beard in bra and pants that he was lovely on the inside and walking through more wet, not being able to go back only way is to survive by walking onwards. Surfaced into the firelight of the chill space these radiant pillars of damp and cold, everyone was smashed though so we slipped right in. Be-decked in smoking jacket and flip flops we discuss the events of last night and all I keep get is "Hanging In There" my apparent catch phrase of the evening.

3) Doug was just coming back across the bridge in his 4x4 before everything was cut off again Yesterday and he found some lads about to jump into the torrent that once was creek and try and bodyboard it. UPSTREAM OF THE BRIDHE. He tries to talk them out of it but the are so full of weed/ male pride that they jump in and instantly regret it. Screaming one of the guys makes it into a tree his board catching in the eddies of the bridge as the water is sucked under it. Other fella was not so lucky and got sucked under the bridge and disappeared. The guys mate is screaming and there is just no sign of him. There is a shout from downstream and the boy appears scratched and not nearly so certain of himself, his bluff hollow and fragile. Doug ends this story about how he wishes he had his camera to catch it, and a lesson could be learned.

Nimbin feels so very much like certain elements of the festival scene that I love, people gather round out of the rain and stories start. I might start a few but mostly in the good name of group dynamics, and partially small part of centre of attention syndrome as well. It is time to get out, Tasmania is calling and I am really done with the rain. Got a dutch travellling companion now called Caspar who I am training up in the way of the Zombie Apocalypse, coming along nicely. We just have to prise him out of Nimbin, there is Nimbin time here which runs even slower than playa time.

Dougal

Goodbye Sweet Jesus Fish

Handing back the keys for Jesus Fish on Monday morning I was little sad to be leaving what had become my shelter, my transport, my home. The things was in better condition than when I got it after a some serious superglue action, a change of oil and a run through the carwash. Definitely recommend the people at wicked campers, think I will get one when I hgit NZ.

Didn't cover nearly as much ground as I had hoped, plans top cross frpom West coast to east cost were quickly scuppered after close examination of a postcard that imposed Britain ontop of Australia. Hell I didn't even get that far north, the creepy dolphins at Monkey Mia were the zenith of my travels; Seriously forget the hype, dolphins are way to intelligent, have way to many teeth and when you see them looking at you with just one eye you know they are up to something.

My home base was Kalbarri which is beautiful and managed to hook up with Germans, Norwegians, Austrians and a couple of actual Australians. The local pub became my second home with maybe not everyone knowing my name but after a couple of nights I could walk down the street and bump into people I knew. It was here I discovered that your average Australian male dances like a teenager at a school dance, there were some fine example on show but the fat-belly-wobbling-thrusting-on-the-florr-dancing-with-a-chair-throwing-up everywhere-and-then-rolling-in-it-guy was probably the best. Just as I was conquering my new dances moves in flip-flops (not nearly as easy as I thought) the night came to a crashing end as the pub had exceeded its dickhead quota and shut early; no security so instead of ejecting the trouble makers they eject everyone.

Next morning as well as a slight hangover greeting me in the morning there was a park ranger giving me an earful for illegal parking and threatening a fine, there was a few of us so we got away with a warning. On exitting Kilbarri the Australian couple stopped me and invited me to a BBQ at their place in Gerladton, as it was on my way and I did fancy some fish (after catching sweet F A the previous evening) I said yes. Evening started well with a trip to the drive through bottleshop but quickly became apparent I was going to be stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a house where the previous occupants were all raped and murdered by a drug crazed lunatic, with my host an Australian version of Francis Begbie.

Fire is blazing with the wood we had successfully foraged from the surrounding spider and snaked filled bush, when it occurs to my hosts that as it is fire season and so we manage to ercect some barriers from traffic road signs that have recently been "acquired" along with some other material, best not to ask. Shark was a winner as well as the fish and for dessert I was taken 'roo spotting. There were moments where I felt my life was slightly endangered, crossing the highway, drunk at speed was one of those moments. Strangely at several points I had severe Deja Vu with moment form Burning Man and the surreal situations you find yourself in there, where 2 hours previously if someone told you where you wer going to ewnd up you would never believe them. Kangaroos really do move quite fast when chased by 3 drunken humans in a 4x4 with Country and Western music blaring at them.

Conversation was so liberally laced with profanities that I am only now losing the fuck and shit from every sentence. Despite the fact that we had so little in common it was a great insight into a side of Asutralia not usually discovered on the tourist trail, although steering the conversation around some of the more racist, bigotted and masochinistic views became more frequent near the end. Also given the nature of what happened in the house you would maybe expect some reverence or reluctance to talk about it, but no jokes were made frequently about the previous occupants, including a guided tour of where the attrocities took place.

Kindly declining the option to sleep on the couch a very wasted Dougal climbs into the Jesus Fish, locks all the doors and tries to keep thoughts of ghosts, axed craxed monsters out of my head. Wandering if the Jesus would protect me from the supernatural. So when the dog decided to jump on the van, starts scratching and howling outside I more or less hit the celiling and messed my pants. Fucker. Made as quick and quiet a getaway in the morning as I could after an night of very bad dreams and constant interuptions from that damn cannine.

As I flew across the country from Perth to Sydney, passing through 2 timezones in the process I was glad I changed my mind about driving. One day I will I know but for the moment I wil ahve to pu up with Mr Elbows, who just loves to share. Met up with Jess in Sydney and I get to feeling my alcohol consumption is about to spike over the festive, my first outside of Scotland wouldn't ya know. Really looking forward to it, my get sunburn on Christmas day just for the sheer novelty factor.

Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen

So you read all the guides, speak to all your friends and might even get some research on the old internet done, but nothing can prepare for the fact that one week in the country and you NEED to buy flip flops. Fuckin flip flops. They are just the most practical footwear possible if you are going to be spending anytime on the beach or in the sea, which I am, a lot. Ggrrrrrr. As if to somehow compensate for this I have to know here they are at all times, they have their own space in the Jesus Fish.

Jesus Fish by the way is my camper van, although its really a van that you camp in before you get images of some massive BM style RV. I was asked upon collection of the keys if I was religious, not really I respond, thats good I am informed because some people get a little arsy driving around in a van called Jesus Fish (cause there is a large christian fish on the side with Jesus written in it. Also having "honk if you know Jesus" sprayed on the back is comical to start with, but when people honk you, you can never tell if it is 'cause something critical is wrong with the van, I am driving pish or because they actually do know Jesus. Oh the fun.

So there really are very large patches of bugger all broken up with very small patches of stuff here in Australia, it takes some getting used to. Especially coming from a tiny overpopulated place like Inverness, no really the places I have visited are making it look quite the bustling metropolis. Still I am loving the beaches and not giving a flying fuck who gets to see my pale white frame as I take a ridiculous amount of joy walking the beaches, splashing in the waves and trying to avoid collisions with wind surfers.

Last night I was regaled with Christmas carols involving Joey the kangaroo, something about a rusty ute and had to witness a massacre on bagpipes of amazing grace; which everyone lapped up, he couldn't hit any of the high high notes the useless sac of shit, I had to get up and hide behind a hill. There were lots of glow sticks and LED candles which made me happy seeing all the youngsters playing with their blinkies, it was probably the best part,. I would have said the fireworks were but the soundtrack which was on loop and out of sync kind of detracted somewhat from the experience, call me a snob I know.

Anyway I am about to head inland and up north whereby I hope to see live kangaroos, do some snorkling and visit some more national parks that might, just might contain something more than bushes and dust.

So It Begins!

Departure
I sit in some vastly overpriced airport eatery and in between mouthfuls of my last ‘real’ food before the mercies of airplane meals the reality of departure hits me. Frantic does not describe the pace of events leading up to this moment, leaving my job, boat, friends, family, girlfriend and the fitting send offs they all gave me (from which I am still recovering), this was my first reflective opportunity. This is by no means the worlds longest/ most extreme/ notable trip in traveller’s history but from my perspective it is. Another continent, no job, no real plan and 4 months to kill, I am out of my rut and seeing the wider horizon is a little daunting and a lot exciting; might even get a tan, imagine that.

Arrival
So I have this lingering feeling that things have gone a little too easy, seating and movie selection were acceptable, I cleared customs with the sanctity of my back passage intact and I did not die in a plummeting fireball of twisted metal and flesh. When the receptionist informed me my room would not be available for another 10 hours and that they were fully booked, at least I knew everything was well with the world. So homeless I get bounced around with decreasing degrees of politeness from hotel to hostel at 4am until I track down what seems like the last bed in Perth. Meaning I have a slightly more auspicious start to my travels than sleeping rough on a bench. Instead I get a bunk on top of the world’s loudest snorer in a room overlooking the (active) train yard.

Welcome
Perth is not a big city, easily navigable by foot and thankfully the cloud cover was up and the temperatures down. Important if you have just undergone a hair massacre and your scalp is seeing the light of day after a good 25 years. Friday night in town is intense but with careful application of that old favourite alcohol as a social lubricant, friends are made and group of local lads take me under their wing and offer a tour of the nightlife. Before my new friends can make good on their tour a passer-by takes offence at their chat up line of “shows us your tits, give us your number!” (I know genius) and spits on them. A brawl starts and my tour guides flee the scene leaving me in need of a new guide.
A guide in the form of Sam, a local whom I befriended when she was visiting Scotland came to my rescue. With a more reliable guide I begin to see underneath the tourist guide version of Perth and I get my first introduction to a local tradition- the Sunday Session. We swim in the ocean, walk on the beach and top it off with a pint in Sam’s old local. A pint that turns into 2, 3, many and a very good night ends with us drinking wine in her car before falling uncomfortably asleep in the foot well. Cultures change but serious sessions all remain the same.

So It Begins
Driving back after a hung-over dawn wander along the beach I decide that when I get my campervan, after the mandatory tourist stops I am going to pitch up on some deserted beach and take up beachcombing; whilst using factor 60+ sun cream obviously. Tomorrow I get my campervan, become independently mobile and start my travels in earnest.

Difference Between Men and Women

Actual dialogue took place at about 3am

Katie: So who is your favourite person in the whole world?
Dougal: hmmm....JACK BAUER! definitely.

Katie: Who's that?
Dougal: Like from 24, saves the world, "Your gonna have to trust me".

Dougal: What about you?
Katie: It would be my best friend Kate.

I chose a ficticious character who runs around with a gun, Katie chose her best friend who actually exists. I stand by my choice.