I moved on from Brissy this weekend, leaving behind the most mismatched, disfunctional set of housemates in the most unsanitary house I've ever experienced. I feel like a year's experience living on a Vietnamese island, complete with "pet" rats, ants, spiders, snakes and a howling cat, combined with my general penchant for mild disorder, allows at least some validity to the above statement.
I also left behind the land of places known as the Sunshine Coast, Gold Coast, and Surfer's Paradise. (Yes, it's a legitimate place on the map. It also happens to be accessed through exit 69 off the Pacific Motorway.)
My last few weeks in the city were somewhat laid back, scattered with some super fun random experiences with a new roommate.I watched night fall over Brisbane from Mt Coot-Tha, a promontory rising high above the rest of the city.
I argued with a group of 8th grade girls about the popular phenomenon known as Drop Bears, in which unsuspecting tourists are regaled with tales of koalas with butts made of stone that drop from trees to kill you on the spot. Oh, and slathering your hair with vegemite is a "natural" drop bear repellant... Obviously.
I ate some stellar fish and chips in the 25th story penthouse of a five-star hotel in the city center... and paid absolutely nothing for the experience.
I went to my first Greek Festival since one memorable middle school field trip. I watched a speed eating champion decimate his competitors in a honey puff-eating contest while I munched happily on baklava and spanakopita, then wandered through a carnival ground complete with flying, spinning terror machines and giant creepy stuffed animals heavier than the kids who win them.
We took a solid day to explore the area around Mt. Warning, leaving early to visit a place called Natural Bridge. The winding road crested and dipped into Mt. Warning's ancient caldera amongst twisting ridges and rivers blanketed in old, dense forest. A mellow wander brought us to a short drop where a waterfall plummeted into a pit, glancing off a well-worn log before rushing past haphazardly piled blocks, through a cave and emerging from a dark stone span dripping with ferns. We climbed the mountain for sunset; although the more novel idea would be to watch the sun rise on Australia from the top, that would have required (a) putting up with some seeeeriously drugged out backpacking hippies and (b) a companion willing to wake up early enough to arrive and begin hiking around 2:00 am.
On the way in to the car park we crossed a small creek where dozens upon dozens of rock cairns and arches had been pieced into a miniature wonderland in the dappled shade. Soon after we began to hike a rhythmic scratching off-trail revealed a lyrebird-- probably one of the coolest animals on the planet-- foraging in the rainforest duff. (If you've never heard of a lyrebird, check them out here; those things are crazy cool! Even better: the bit is narrated by David Attenborough.) The trail headed straight up for 2.5 miles– none of that bullshit hiking up and dropping down to lose all your hard work before starting up again. We climbed until rainforest gave way to brittle, whippy trees and dry brush, and howling wind greeted us at a last small landing before chains lined a final scramble to the mountain's peak.
From the summit we looked north through biting wind all the way to Brisbane, faintly visible between the caldera's border ranges. We looked east to the Gold Coast and the sea before turning south to spot Byron Bay, its distinctive cape marking Australia's easternmost point as it extended into the sea beyond Mt. Warning's lengthening shadow.
As we circled back to our original position, a carpet python crept into the brush alongside our path. A sinking sun bathed the land in a golden glow before disappearing behind the westward mountains in blazing crimson clouds, and then we began our descent.
No comments:
Post a Comment