Nowhere : The Trees of Tincurrin

Ever wonder how to possibly survive six weeks in the middle of nowhere??
*Nowhere* being 58km from the nearest shop and a little over 15km from the nearest pub... a town with a population of 7.5 humans, 300 odd kangaroos, about a billion mosquitoes and a trillion trees??

...This is Tincurrin for you... this is how you plant 196 503 trees... and this is how you survive the in-between times with only a 7 year old's bicycle and an array of bizarre backpackers to keep you company...

... This is Nowhere....

Survival of the Hitchhiker : 17 Rides to [R]adelaide

Ever wonder what sort of person picks hitchhikers up?? Ever wonder why they leave their passengers dilapidatedly dead in the dessert? Ever wonder if you could survive a hitchhike... if you had to??

I had no option. I had to hitch:

I had to be in Adelaide by Friday Feb Fourth. Yes, music festivals are important.

The train was full. The bus took too long.

Flying was not an option (principal not price).

I had no car. No bicycle. Only feet. Feet and two thumbs.

Sally Ball thought hitching a great idea as I sat in her sunny Bunbury-an house. She must be the only mother in the world who believes that hitching is potentially the best way to travel; even despite all the “Wolf Creek” nonsense everyone else had tried to deter me with. She and one of her loveliest daughters, Jess, even gave me my first ride [1] – all the way to the Albany highway - on their way to work. I won’t pretend I wasn’t a little petrified as I watched them drive away leaving me stranded with my “Towards Albany Please” cereal box sign. It was to be my first ever lonely hitch.

In only a few minutes I was on my way again with Voodoo [2] who was carrying with him radio-active material (he repeated this information twice). He’d agreed to take me to Kirup. I had no idea where that was but I was keen to get moving. He’d successfully lived on the dole for 6 years by completing his own rejection letters from imaginary companies – but eventually he became tired of skating his life away and got himself a real job (something to do with soil and of course “radio-active” material).

Not long afterwards Ollie [3] picked me up. It was quite a scenery change climbing in with the suited-up sales rep. He was on his way to the Chain Saw shop in Manjimup. Obviously images from the Texas Chain Saw Massacre flooded my brain...

Codie [4] took me as far as the turn off to Northcliffe which was literally a “nowhere” 45 minutes down the road. It began to rain.

There was no traffic at the turn-off to Northcliffe. At least I was getting a bit of a shower. By chance a car drove out from the campsite down the road. They waved, shrugged a “we’re full” and disappeared. And then they came back. “We forgot we have a fold up chair in the back” said Steve “...couldn’t leave a girl stranded on the side of the road. Especially not in the rain.” Alli (aged 3 and a half was so intrigued by Dora the Explorer that she didn’t realise I’d climbed on board and the Grandparents were just glad to see that the years of hitchkiking were not dead and buried. And that’s how I joined a family holiday [5] and got to see Fenbrooke Falls and climb Mt Franklin.

From Warpole I hopped in with Tina [6] a mother of three on her way to see the principal at her daughter’s school in Denmark (The town, not the country).

Seconds later John [7] pulled up. The 73 year old’s mullet suggested he may have been a psycho killer – but the 2 toddlers in the back seat seemed to suggest that he was more the human trafficking kind. I was okay with that. John had just left his 24 year old [third] wife in Thailand and was obviously living out of the car whilst getting settled back into “the real world.” I’m unsure if he remembered that the tarred road was where most of the driving was meant to occur – but fortunately the road shoulder didn’t kill us. He gave me a tour of Albany before taking me to an Albanian hostel where they give you free luminous green cake and breaky.

Saturday greeted me with rain – lots of it. Fortunately I stopped to ask the direction to the highway because Ron [8] offered me a ride out of town – it was a good 8km...

As I prepared my “Towards Esperance” sign a car pulled up. I should have noticed the alcohol straight away and probably should have waved them off – but I hopped in with Marti and Chook [9] who had just finished an all-nighter and were still drinking. They took me as far as the fork in the highway and offered me a cash “job”... I opted out and walked a bit for obvious reasons.

Spencer [10], a uni student, was on his way to his parents farm and dropped me off at Manypeaks where I did not see many peaks or rides or anything much. Several local famers pulled in for a friendly chat – but rides were looking scarce.

Some boys pulled in to ask directions to a campsite. They returned 20 minutes later to tell me they’d given up finding it and may as well just go all the way to Esperance – now to find some space in their car... While they rearranged an insane amount of luggage, a bus pulled in and Ian and his son Lachlin [11] smiled kindly and said “Esperance? Why not?” So I waved the other boys farewell and clambered aboard. The 6 hour drive flew past as the Scotsman told me life tales of his 18 years in Australia and the future rock star son (look out for “Sympathy for Tiffany”) discussed music. And if the ride wasn’t enough – they let me crash in their school bus for the night and proceeded to feed me bacon and eggs in the morning. I think I may well be God’s favourite!

Ian's good friend Sussie [12] who had the most charming smile and incredible life story gave me the loveliest tour of the picturesque town on Sunday before driving me to the Norseman road and giving me the massivest hug goodbye. I needed the hug!

The whole of the Esperance golf course looked on and laughed as I patiently thumbed on the side of the road. Derrek [13] pulled up. When he found out I was headed for Adelaide he made it very clear that under no circumstances was I to attempt to walk across the Nullarbour. I laughed – but he was serious. He didn’t let me out of the car until he was certain I understood that trying to walk the 2000 odd km desert would be foolish.

I grabbed an ice-coffee in Gibson as I waited for the next ride. It was a long wait. Paula[14] was on her weekly Kalgoolie commute and made excellent conversation about breast cancer survival and kids and marriage and forensics all the way to the turn-off to Adelaide. Another hug.

I started off by talking to the truckies. They were all headed for Perth. Apparently they all run on the same schedule – but they offered to pick me up on Wednesday if I was still around. With the flies and the heat and the dust I could imagine nothing worse than being in Norseman till Wednesday. A massive storm hit. I ran for the pub. Trash cans flew around and the wind whipped whirlwinds of dust all over the place. The power went out.

My heart sank as the cashier told me that the last hitcher had been stuck there for 5 days before he got a ride. But I decided to stay positive. The storm died down, but daylight was fast disappearing. One more try for today I figured. I walked up to the “Wright” truck pretty sure that this would not be the “right” one. Jason [15] said he could take me as far as Port Augasta. I said that was awesome – although once again I had no idea where that was - I started celebrating when I found out that that was only 302 km from Adelaide.

A word on long distance truck riding. Choose carefully! Even if you have limited options! Hitching in Aus is nothing like Africa – there is only one passenger seat and health and safety prohibits the 1678 other passangers you would find cramped on the truck bunk in any other country. In fact, many of the trucks only come with one bed. You don’t want to have to share that bed with the truckie... Again my luck was impeccable – not only did I get a really wonderful, kind hearted trucker, but I got a whole container to spread myself in and make my bed which was amazing because the 54 degree temperatures the next day bought stretched our trip over two nights.

I almost blew away as I tried to hold my now crumply cardboard on the side of the road in Port Augusta on Tuesday. I knew that someone would pull up eventually and thankfully Dennis [16] did. His only concession was that we needed to stop and feed his pets on the way. What he didn’t tell me was that his pets included a herd of cattle, a horse, 100 birds that he was breeding, 3 dogs and an iguana. He gave me the tour of his property and showed me his family pictures. He grinned massively as he told me all about his favourite grandchild –Spork. What a lovely man – at 70 he was still trucking every day and single-handedly running a farm at the same time.

My phone had committed suicide a few days prior and all my numbers had been lost. But luckily enough I had typed out a “to visit” list for Australian immigration just in case they didn’t want to let me in. I found the number and sent the text from Dennis’s phone. “Adeena will be at the Gold Fields Highway and Port Wavely Road pub in 25.” I willed really hard for it to send. It was nearly 11pm.

And that’s where Dennis sat and very courteously waited with me for my final ride. My final sign was scribbled just in case – Adelaide couldn’t possibly have a population of much more than 20. But low and behold Shane [17] arrived and drove me to the Homette.

And that’s how I made it across the 3116 km from Bunbury to Adelaide where tomorrow’s music festival better be worth it. Oh, and if you’re waiting to hear more about desert murderings, thievery and sellings into slavery; I’m sorry to disappoint... those days may well be over.

The "Before I happen to Die or Stop Existing" List

The “Before I Happen to Die” List
(The Jan 2011 version)

1)    Overcome my fear of tomatoes
2)    Start an empire (Look out Mr Branson!)
3)    Lick a kangaroo
4)    Get a criminal record for something cool (age 80+)
5)    Milk a goat // cow // camel // cat
6)    Accidentally discover a cure for a major disease
7)    Taxidermise a pet
8)    Drink a beer in every country in the world (and hence every continent)
9)    Elope // Get married (After I find “the one” of course)
10)    Have kids (3+ ...maybe)
11)    Give one kid a truly ridiculous name
12)    Add a word to the Oxford dictionary
13)    Survive a plane crash
14)    Brew my own beer
15)    Swim the English channel // Northern Sea
16)    Write and publish a book on why Speedos should never be worn
17)    Write and publish a travel book // novel
18)    Win a noble prize
19)    Plant 200 001 trees for future tree huggers everywhere
20)    Live on a deserted island
21)    Grow a beard (I have Portuguese blood, this may be possible)
22)    Cook and eat roadkill
23)    Bake a cake taller than my smallest friend (I may need to befriend some shorter people)
24)    Stow away on a ship // train
25)    Climb Everest
26)    Make a full length feature film
27)    Survive a month without a shower (yuck)
28)    Run a marathon
29)    Death road in Bolivia
30)    Find Unicorn Island
31)    Reunite Butt Mullett for at least one more awesome gig
32)    Fly to a country just for one gig // music festival (or maybe just for dinner)
33)    Walk on Fox or Franz Josef Glacier in NZ
34)    Spend a whole day eating junk food without feeling guilty
35)    Buy a camel // lama
36)    Complete a week(+) long “spiritual” pilgrimage barefoot
37)    Cycle across a continent
38)    Dive in the Jellyfish lake of Palau with Simone
39)    Lick the statue of Liberty
40)    Defy gravity
41)    Participate in Carnival in Rio
42)    Do the splits
43)    Join a nudist colony
44)    Smoke a pipe
45)    Survive the predicted 2012 world ending
46)    Raft through the Grand Canyon
47)    Own a pirate ship [or yatch or canoe] along with the crew and an illiterate parrot
48)    Attend Oktoberfest in Munich
49)    Finish two Eisbeins (Pork Knuckles) in one sitting
50)    Be a Mermaid
51)    Visit the Aral sea
52)    Leave my “mark” on at least 7 major wanders of the world
53)    Own my own homey home
54)    Go up in a hot air balloon for a sunrise breakfast
55)    Build a raft and sail it out into the ocean
56)    Lasso a cow (from the back of a horse)
57)    Sky dive
58)    Climb a pyramid
59)    Organise a rock band to trash a Celine Dion concert
60)    Get a random tattoo chosen by a stranger
61)    Lick a porcupine
62)    Patent something [preferably something awesome]
63)    Complete the iron man
64)    Swim the Golden Mile (Midmar mile X 8)
65)    Convert a Jew
66)    Look death in the eye and make it blink
67)    Tame a wild animal and make it my pet
68)    TP a national monument
69)    Sheer a sheep and turn it into to dashboard fluff
70)    Get someone else to add this task to my list
71)    Smash a guitar // banjo rockstar style
72)    Pick up at least 16.5 hitch hikers in a really small car
73)    Set a Guinness World Record
74)    Travel overland and sea from Australia to Spain
75)    Walk across a country
76)    Transiberian railway (and hopefully continue from there across Russia to Alaska)
77)    Live on the beach
78)    Marry two people
79)    Snowboard [in Kazakhstan]
80)    Swim in every ocean
81)    Learn how to play the guitar
82)    Swim in a pool of money
83)    Date a royal // celebrity [and dump them]
84)    Finish reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy (I gave up half way through the first book)
85)    Write a song and actually sing it to people
86)    Learn to surf properly [and then attempt to surf a tsunami]
87)    Learn a third language (Spanish??)
88)    Learn a fourth language
89)    Get my dive licence (and hence have ears that work properly)
90)    Bungee jump
91)    See the Northern lights
92)    Motorbike across South America
93)    Kite surf
94)    Snorkel the Great barrier reef
95)    Climb the stairs of a 101 story building
96)    Mug a hobo
97)    Orchestrate a mass burning of evil pop music CDs
98)    Running of the Bulls
99)    Moon a president

The World by Toilets : Perth

It does not matter if you are man or child or ware wolf or criminal or woman or heshe... at some point or another you will need the toilet. If you do not then this is pretty unhealthy and you really should see a doctor.

So, here begins a journey through the toilets of the world. We begin with Perth. A fairly cosmopolitan little city with a park the size of a small country that has no kangaroos and a pretty river that smells a lot.But the thing that impressed me the most so far is the Exeloo.

Yes they have normal toilets and the paper one likes to find accompanying; but the Exeloo is special. With one button the iron door slides open, music starts playing and a God-like voice welcomes you and informs you that you have a maximum of ten minutes to whatever it was you came for. It also makes you wander if there might be someone watching you. The classical tunes continue; either distracting you from what it was you came for or making your 'stay' more pleasant possibly lulling you to sleep. And as you finish up, in aid of personal hygiene, the toilet does not flush until you have washed your hands.



Obviously there are other things to see and do in Perth: buy expensive beers, eat an array of oriental foods, visit the zoo, visit the plethora of beautiful beaches, go gambling, explore the roofs of hotels, claim to be the queen, ride the free buses... but a visit is incomplete without the Exeloo - Try it - you never knew public toilets could be so Star Warsy!

Where the Sheeps have no Name

This week I planted 21 300 trees. Which is quite a lot really. More than the average [wo]man plants in their life I assume. I may be wrong.

I applied for only one job last week (it was a good idea at the time) before being distracted by the beach and the park and the spectacular views from the roofs of Perth’s premier hotels. I got that job.  So on Saturday I hopped and a bus and set ‘sail’ for Tincurrin. Population 7 and a half (Which has now been more than doubled by just the members of my house).

As I sat on the bus pretending to listen to the life story of Theresa from Albany, I realised that I had no idea what I was actually doing and that I may actually be in the process of being human trafficked...  A sweat shop would have been far more exciting....  Instead I now spend 38 hours a week hanging out with trees and dirt and sheep and the rest of my time trying to get clean. Which is not so bad really because there is nothing else to do out here.

Most long-term travelers pack up their lives, sell what they have and venture off to find their inner hippie. They go all flower-power and save the whale and tree-hugging ... I’ve just found my inner farmer...  but at least I’ve done my part for future tree- huggers everywhere.

The Art of Licking Strangers

Many have called Australia the land of the free, the land of the brave; the land where all your hopes and dreams can come true... but I’m still not convinced!

In the real world it is easy to lick a stranger. You stick out your tongue and wait for an unsuspecting passerby. Done. In Australia it is not.

Firstly you have to do all lickage in shoes. You have to do everything in shoes. And, if that’s not bad enough already, “thongs” aren’t good enough – They have to be closed shoes or even high-heels. As a staunch anti-shoeist this is hell!

Secondly being discrete is not an easy task. Trying to avoid the gaze of the 20 odd security on constant alert for barefooters, is near impossible. And even when they are looking away, there’s still the cameras... if they fine you for being barefoot, or drunk, or smelling funny; what do they do to lickers??

It’s normally best to discretely lick on the clothing (or at least this is what my friend Robyn, a professional lickest, has taught me) – in Australia they barely wear any clothes... it’s all ‘wife beaters’ and skirts that once functioned as belts...

I’m not even all that keen on licking strangers. It’s just nice to have the option!

If this is Australia where are the Kangaroos?

“Welcome to the real world!” said the passport control man. I shot him a slightly worried “Surely you’re not talking about Australia?” glance and he quickly waved me on to customs...

It’s been almost 24 hours and I have yet to see a kangaroo.  I’m starting to wonder if I’m even in the right country.

It’s all getting a bit worrying really - South African immigration told me that my visa had been declined and proceeded to let me on the plane anyway... We were forced to keep our window shutters closed for the duration of the flight and were instead shown a picture of our plane veering towards Perth. Nine and a half hours “in the air" and I didn’t even have Kankles to show for it – explain that??

So before I go on to describe the ridiculous accents, the bizarrely excessive rules and the state of their “dunnies” (which are ever so slightly nicer than the plane’s) - let me first confirm my whereabouts. For all I know [apart from the extreme lack of people of colour] I may never have left South Africa!