The Professional Hobo » World Nomads Ambassador Trip

Our World Nomads Ambassador Trip Legacy

theprofessionalhobo — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 07:17:00 +0000

Having come through sub-tropical rainforests, learned to drive on the other side of the road, squished squeaky sand between our toes at beach towns, slept in the chilly high-altitude tablelands, fossicked for treasure in opal mining towns, driven through the great outback, and hiked through yet more national parks, before seeing the ocean again along the great ocean road, we feel we’ve managed to see a small but pretty diverse chunk of this wonderful country of Australia.

And having seen the critters at night, gone into the opal mines, caught some yummy fish for dinner, listened to the mining bells chiming through Broken Hill, toured the inside of a Royal Flying Doctors emergency plane, and enjoyed the hospitality of oh so many people we have come across, we also feel we’ve managed to meet a few of the characters that live here and get a feeling for the pulse of the place.

So when set with the task of leaving something with the van; something that characterizes our trip and says something about us, we were torn.

Do we leave a chunk of opal we fossicked for? Nah. It’s mostly potch, and if you don’t look closely you’d think it’s just a rock with some shiny blue stuff.

Do we leave some fish? Nope. Caught it and ate it already.

Do we leave sand from our squeaky beach? Rather not. Gets between your toes something fierce.

How about a kangaroo, since we got close enough to pet one? No can do. I doubt that future ambassadors would appreciate this furry friend as a travel companion in the van, despite its cuteness.

Click Here to read the rest of this post and find out what we left with the World Nomads Ambassador Van to leave our mark. Thanks World Nomads for six unforgettable weeks!

Winding Along Australia’s Great Ocean Road

theprofessionalhobo — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 07:13:00 +0000

As the road south from the climbing and trekking Mecca of Grampians National Park spilled out onto the ocean a few hours later, we knew our World Nomads Ambassador adventure was coming to an end. But it wasn’t a sad moment, because we plan to go out with a bang!

Australia’s Great Ocean road meanders from Warnambool on the western end to Melbourne in the east. In the next few days we would see an array of spectacular vistas covering the gambit from raging ocean on eroded limestone cliffs, to serene fishing villages, to surfing towns with the merchandise and awesome off-shore breaks to prove it. Although you can technically drive Great Ocean Road in a day, you’d miss almost all of it to stay on the winding road that some locals have dubbed the Great Bitumen Sea Snake for all its twists and turns.

We were sure we saw other couples in passing cars doing exactly what we were doing: gaping from the awesome scenery to the local guidebook (Lonely Planet of course) and maps, then frantically pointing at the nearest turn-off to snap a few hundred more picture-perfect moments.

Interestingly though, there weren’t too many other couples in other cars to identify with. Why, you ask? Well, characteristic of the drum we march to that nobody else can figure out, we’re here in the off-season. Yes, in the south of Australia, the winter weather does not make for plentiful tourists.

But we also like it that way thank you very much. Rolling into towns such as Apollo Bay is a treat when you can:

A) find parking

B) nab an ideal place to sit at the local waterfront café

C) take a picture of the scenery without a dozen wandering people unwittingly getting in the shot.

Sure, we had to wear a few extra layers, and swimming was on the very outer edge of possibility without hyperthermia kicking in after about a minute. (We chose not to test that theory). But at least we had lots of sunshine and none of the rain that is characteristic of the region at this time of year.

And sure, the towns didn’t quite have the life and energy you’d feel if it was peak-season, but we actually got a chance to chat with the locals more so than we might have otherwise.

While chatting with one such local shopkeeper in Apollo Bay, we asked him about what it is like to run a business in such a seasonal town.

“It’s getting to be a year-round thing, slowly. We’re seeing more and more tourists in the off-season, and the actual off-season is getting shorter every year,” he said. “But for avoiding crowds, you’ve come at the right time. We have a permanent population of 1,200 that swells up to 10,000 in the summer.”

Great for business, bad for nature photography and hermits.

There is more to this engaging article! Check it out on our World Nomads Ambassador Trip Journal. One more post to go, then this part of our Aussie trip is over!

Setting the Records Straight at Brambuk Cultural Centre

theprofessionalhobo — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 06:23:00 +0000

Being from Canada, we feel right at home in Oz. We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again.

Everywhere we turn, we see more and more similarities between Australia and Canada, and are amazed that two countries so far apart geographically can share so many commonalities.

One such common bond, and one neither country is particularly proud of, is the struggle with our respective countries’ aboriginal people, history, and culture. In settling both countries, our aboriginal people were ill-treated, not respected, and their history was largely erased instead of preserved.

The tragedy persists as now aboriginal people are left fighting for land, rights, and respect. Relations are strained at best, and although apologies have been issued by governments for historical blunders, there is a lot of ground to cover before everything is really okay again. Who knows – maybe things will never be okay again.

Before our journey into the outback, we were warned by some people of towns along the way that they considered unsafe to even stop at, much less chat with the locals (who were predominantly aboriginal). We were told not to make eye contact. We were warned of road-side ambushes, and told our fair share of horror stories – some possibly true, and others obviously not.

But knowing our own aboriginal issues back in Canada, we’ve always maintained that there are two sides to a story. So in many of the towns we have passed through, we’ve made a point of visiting the local aboriginal cultural centre in search of that balance. Some centres were informative, and others were not.

Which is why we were absolutely elated when we rolled into the Brambuk Cultural Centre in the heart of Grampians National Park. Free to all, and run in conjunction with Parks Victoria, this museum-cum-souvenir shop-cum-café is a place you could easily wile away a good chunk of the day.

So naturally, visiting Brambuk on the day of our departure from the Grampian mountains and spending the whole rainy morning there was heaven.

If you’d like to know more about what we saw and learned at Brambuk, then check out the full article over at our World Nomads Ambassador Journal here!

More Brilliant Caravan Parks

theprofessionalhobo — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 05:59:00 +0000

Pursuant to my earlier post on caravan parks, we have become quite acquainted with the likes of these travel stops as the weeks have progressed on our World Nomads Whirlwind Trip. And no two parks are the same, which is part of the charm of such travel.

When you check in at a big name chain hotel or motel, you know exactly what you’re going to get, right down to the brand of mints on the pillow. But even among franchised caravan parks (which are a rarity), you will get some terrific variety. Everything from the amenities, to the scenery, to the surroundings; it’s a crap shoot.

And unlike the variety of accommodations we saw in the guesthouses of Bangkok, the variations are all relatively appealing; it just depends on what you are looking for.

Like Forrest Gump said, “Caravan Parks are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.”

Wait a minute. He didn’t say that. Ah well – something like that, I’m sure.

Since we are constantly on the move while in the World Nomads van, and since we enjoy the great outdoors, we tend to gravitate towards parks that are a little secluded and scenic. Not to say that our times smack dab in the middle of some of the towns we visited were bad – but it’s just not our idea of camping. For the permanent or long term residents of those parks though (and there are those in almost every caravan park), I’m sure being close to town is heaven on earth.

So when we rolled into the town of Mildura, we got a list of caravan parks, almost all of them directly across from the mall. Wireless internet access was a need since we hadn’t been online for a few days. So that alone became a deciding factor and brought forth a range of candidates. And the cost of the wireless internet ranged from $6/hour to over $20/hour.

While getting overwhelmed weighing options, nightly costs, and internet fees, we decided to fill up on petrol (that’s “gas” for non-Aussie readers). While crossing the bridge over the pretty river, we saw a small sign for another caravan park, right on the river. We looked at each other.

…And I’m sure you want to know what happened. If so, then check out the rest of this post on our World Nomads Ambassador trip journal! The trip is coming to an end, but our adventures aren’t!

The Mining Horns of Broken Hill

theprofessionalhobo — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 04:38:00 +0000

A long blare of a not-too-distant horn echoed throughout Broken Hill around 6:30pm, while we were preparing dinner. Shortly thereafter, a short blare of the horn followed.

Being of a volume and pitch similar to what we heard in Hawaii when the tsunami warning system was tested each month, we wondered what these horns meant. We were pretty sure that a tsunami wasn’t an immediate risk in Broken Hill.

Broken Hill, otherwise known as the “accessible outback”, is a destination, but not. Some of the key draws of Broken Hill aren’t the city itself; rather the surrounding areas. Between the beautiful outback surrounding Broken Hill, sculptures in the Living Desert, the national park to the north full of aboriginal sites, the quirky ghost town of Silverton (home to many movie sets including Mad Max), the mining town of White Cliffs where people live underground to escape the summer heat, and the expansive cattle stations, Broken Hill’s appeal largely lies in the area 100kms around the city.

The town of Broken Hill itself is a heavy mining community with over 100 years of history. With lodes of iron, zinc, silver, and other metals, the landscape of Broken Hill somewhat resembles an open pore on the face of the Australian outback landscape that has been squeezed for its underground riches. This is not a particularly savoury analogy I know, but then again mining – as necessary as it is – isn’t a particularly savoury industry.

That is not to say that the city of Broken Hill should be avoided, by any means. There are numerous wonderful art galleries to enjoy – almost too many proportionate to the town’s size, but you won’t hear me complaining.

One such art gallery, and one not to be missed, is the Silver City Mint and Art Centre, where you can not only purchase beautiful hand-crafted jewellery and art made by a variety of local talent, but you can also view the Big Picture. Which is just as it sounds – a beautiful big picture; in fact it is the world largest canvas painting at 100metres in length.

Broken Hill is also home to some of the most friendly people, and conversations with passing strangers sometimes last 10 minutes, or even through tea. In our time at Broken Hill we have been invited into people’s homes and hearts, cattle stations, and places of business with warm welcomes and generosity that appears to be characteristic of the Australian Outback and even of Australia itself.

But you still don’t know what the mining horns mean yet! If you want to read the rest of this article and find out, please click here to see the article in full at our World Nomads Ambassador Trip Journal!

Royal Flying Doctors to the Rescue!

theprofessionalhobo — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 10:52:00 +0000

For once, this isn’t a story about Kelly needing medical assistance (as he did in Thailand and Hawaii)!
No, instead, this is about an incredible tour we did of the Royal Flying Doctor Base in Broken Hill.

Australia is big. Really big. And although Broken Hill is known as the “accessible outback”, most of the outback isn’t so easy to get to and through. So when a medical emergency strikes, there aren’t many options. Until John Flynn entered the scene in the early 1900s, the options were either to survive or die. No outside help would be forthcoming.

But John Flynn, a visionary who was distraught that the outback’s 2 million square kilometers was serviced by just two doctors, saw possibilities. Against odds and criticism, he set up a program with radio alerts, a little canvas plane, and medical supply boxes that changed the face of medicine in rural Australia.

The programmed blossomed from its start in 1928 to now: with 22 bases across the country, medical help is never more than 2 hours away, no matter how remote you are. These 22 bases serve a chunk of land larger than Western Europe.

The program has two components: medical clinics (with a focus on prevention), and emergency service. So not only can the RFDS help travelers and residents in the outback who are in need of emergency assistance, but the communities throughout the country are empowered with their own medical kits and regular clinics to prevent people from becoming ill or injured in the first place.

We had a chance to chat with some of the employees at the base, and we even were so lucky as to get a peek inside the emergency services plane and speak with two emergency nurses. Stories of adventure and courage were plentiful, and we could tell that there is a strong bond among employees at the base peppered with lots of humor and fun.

“I couldn’t imagine going back to working for a living,” said Brendan, of his career as an emergency nurse. “Sure, you’re alone in the back of a metal tube at 20,000 feet providing medical care. It can be tough at times. But the view is incredible,” he said.

The view was indeed incredible. We saw a full rainbow from the plane, and learned even more about the incredible outback and its medical angels. Read all about it at the full article here.

Outback Adventures

theprofessionalhobo — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 10:44:00 +0000

When people told us about the colours of the outback – the stark contrast between the red of the dirt with the blue of the sky, and the silvery green of the eucalypt trees that dot the landscape – we were somewhat blasé about it. We knew it would be beautiful, but really.

And when people told us of the vast nothingness that we’d encounter – some people speaking of the isolation with fondness, and others with uncomfortable dislike – we also were a little blasé about it. We knew it would be isolated, but really.

Being from Canada, everywhere we turn, we se many similarities between Australia and our home country. From both being Commonwealth countries, to vast amounts of land and small populations, to large chunks of essentially uninhabitable land, to politics, to aboriginal issues – you name it. There are many similarities, which is why we are generally so comfortable and happy here in Oz. It feels like home.

And even venturing into the Outback, we knew we’d feel a sense of home – large flat chunks of land that go on forever. It screams of Canada’s prairies to us, except we trade unending fields of wheat for unending pastures of scrubby brush dotted with the odd goat or sheep.
But to really see it, to see the dirt go from white to yellow to brown to rust, and eventually to deep burnt sienna red, is quite incredible.

To see the landscape change from hilly and full of trees, to so flat that you can see the trunks of trees miles off on the shining horizon. To eventually almost no trees, save for the odd river gum or eucalypt, and a loose dusting of scrubby brush. Wow.

No wonder so many world-renowned artists derive their inspiration from and continue to live in the Australian Outback.

If you want to see more pictures, learn more of our outback experiences, and read about our close encounters with a Road Train full of explosives, read the rest of this article at our World Nomads Ambassador Journal!

Lightning Ridge: Catching Opal Fever

theprofessionalhobo — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 10:28:00 +0000

“When I close my eyes, I see opals,” said Kelly, shaking his head.
It seems he has a touch of opal fever.

Lightning Ridge and the surrounding areas are famous for its abundance of opals, and in particular the black opal, which can basically only be found here. For decades, people have visited, and never left. They were entranced by this fiery precious gem; one that constantly changes and flickers in the light.

While I appreciate the area and the gem (and in fact acquired a few for my own personal enjoyment whilst here), I didn’t quite understand the fever itself, until I saw Kelly come down with it.

Lucky, this is one fever that didn’t require a hospital, as it did in Hawaii and Thailand.
There are a few ways you can mine for opal:

Own a claim. A few thousand dollars, a few safety and environmental courses, and some heavy machinery later, and you have yourself a mineral claim, and the ability to go underground for opal. More on the opal mining process in a minute.

Go fossicking or “noodling”. You accomplish this silly sounding task by going to the rubbish dumps, where miners have dumped truck after truck load of sandstone from their mines. Although miners have a pretty keen eye for opal, it is very easy to miss a chunk while chipping away at the sandstone underground. This is where the fossickers and noodlers can make a living if they work hard enough. A full-time fossicker in a heavily mined area about 60kms from Lightning Ridge can make an average income of $20,000. Some may say that’s pretty meager, while they will say that they’re outside, with nary a care in the world, and enjoying every day. Fossicking is also the most common way for a short-term visitor or tourist to try to get their hands on some opal.

Actually, the most COMMON way for the average tourist to mine for opal, is in the jewelry stores. In Lightning Ridge, you can mine through store after store and dealer after dealer looking for that perfect piece of opal to take home with you.

There are also a number of different types of opals, and ways of fashioning them into gems too. The two main types of opal are:

Black Opal. Since the back of the stone is black (or almost black, for the “semi-black” or “grey” opals), the colours of the opal shine magnificently. This is the rarest kind of opal, and the Lightning Ridge area is one of the few places in the world to find it.
White Opal. This is a more common form of opal, with an array of glittering colours shining through a milky white stone. White opals can also be found at Lightning Ridge, as well as the well known mining town of Coober Pedy and other places.

As for finding the opal that will suit your pocketbook and still be “the real deal”, here are a few pointers on the different types you’ll find:

Solid Opal. Being the most precious type of opal, your wallet will feel the effects of buying a solid stone the most. It is just as it sounds: solid.
Doublet. A doublet is a thin slice of solid opal, glued on to a black backing of potch (which is technically opal, but is colourless and therefore worthless). Doublets can be quite magnificent since the colours of the stone shine against the dark backing.
Triplet. This is the lowest grade of opal, but also the least expensive. Similar to a doublet, a triplet is a thin sliver of opal glued onto a dark backing, and then covered on top with a layer of silicone or crystal. This protects the stone, makes it look bigger than it is, and helps the colours of your tiny slice of gem to shine radiantly.

And of course, ask anybody in town what they prefer, and they wouldn’t be seen with anything other than a solid opal. Then again, they find the bloody things laying on the ground half the time around here.

THIS POST ISN’T FINISHED! We got to visit a personal underground mine, spend a Friday night at a pub/library/community center/general store with a rascaly bunch, and we even scored some opal! Read the rest of our story here at the World Nomads Ambassador Journal.

Lightning Ridge: The Black Queen Experience

theprofessionalhobo — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 02:18:00 +0000

“Outback theatre with a twist,” says the flyer for Black Queen, with a picture of an oil lamp and a woman with a mysterious look. I didn’t really anticipate that this mining town would exactly have a bustling theatre community, but there it is.

And being an actor/singer/dancer, of course my interests are piqued.
We drive along one of the five guided tours through Lightning Ridge, through old mining settlements. The white sandstone gravel roads weave in and out of this small off-grid community, and without the red car door signs leading the way, we would most certainly be lost by now.

After driving by rusted out trailers and toilets and cars and whatnot, my hopes for a genuine theatrical experience wane. I must admit there’s a sort of artistic beauty to an old car with about 12 cats milling on and around it, surrounded by flat white ground with sandstone piles everywhere. But I’m busy dashing my hopes of seeing a real show so I try not to be too taken with this unique scenery.

Pulling up to Black Queen, though, re-engages my imagination right away. The property, located on the very edge of Lightning Ridge, is charming and unique. The walls of the three cottages that make up this home are made of bottles, stones, and hand-mixed cement, and the surrounding property is filled with old signs about the Black Queen, monuments, and various little surprises for anybody looking hard enough.

We are immediately met by Gail, who is our fearless leader in this piece of outback theatre with a twist. I look over at the other four people joining us for the show, and think “Eek! Awkward. Doing a show for only six people? And I can only imagine how strange it would be if we were just two.”
But as we settle into the first cottage, and the first act, I realize that she can’t fit in many more people than what we have. We are almost a full house. And I also realize that we are actually sitting in the set. This theatre does have a twist indeed.

We have some incredible pictures of the Black Queen, along with the rest of this story, over at the World Nomads Journal here. Check it out!

Lightining Ridge: The People, and The Appeal

theprofessionalhobo — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 02:07:00 +0000

When we rolled into Lightning Ridge, after a series of unfortunate and displeasing coincidences, we were ready to roll right back out the following day.

I was crushed.

Ever since reading about it in the Lonely Planet, I wanted to go, and was prepared to travel out of our way to get there.
Lonely Planet says:

“Near the Queensland borer, this fiercely independent and strikingly imaginative
mining community (one of the world’s few sources of black opals) has real
frontier spirit. Battlers still dream of striking it rich underground here, and
now and again some of them even do. Consequently, the streets are trodden by
eccentric artisans, true-blue bushies and the general unconventional collective.
And that’s all ridgy-didge in the Ridge.”

So luckily, while attending a local Rotary meeting, and consequently spending the following few days enjoying the hospitality of many of the locals, we too had a chance to fall in love with Lightning Ridge.
The Rotary meeting was, of course, wonderful. As Rotarians, wherever we are in the world, attending Rotary meetings gives us a chance to trade stories with other people, all sharing the common goal of providing Service Above Self. We always have a good time.

Chris (short for Christine) was the first woman to open her heart and home to us. She had an additional flat on her property that was empty, so it was “no big deal” to her for us to stay there. Neither were the bacon and eggs in the morning, the wonderful dinner, contacts in Broken Hill and Melbourne, parting gifts, or unmitigated access to her laundry and small fruit orchard. She shrugged off all our accolades of appreciation, and said that it was just as nice to share company with somebody from abroad. We have opened up our (so far nonexistent) home in Canada to her; as soon as we get one, we hope she’ll visit!

I asked her why she and her husband (who was out of town) like to live here, since they are some of the few residents who aren’t here for the opal mining. And it seems that what makes Lightning Ridge attractive is also what makes it hard to take: isolation. At first, she and her family loved small town life, and lived in many of the smaller towns in the area. There is a rampant sense of community, and a real beauty to this chunk of land on the edge of the Australian outback. But now for Chris, with grown up children living in Perth and New Zealand, one with two kids of their own, the negative side of the isolation can be tough.

“It’s hard for somebody to visit us,” Chris said one day. “You have to fly into somewhere like Brisbane, and then it still a full day of driving to and from Lightning Ridge. Not a lot of people have that kind of time these days.”

This is true. You can’t just happen to pass through Lightning Ridge; you have to want to come here. With only one road in and out of town, no railway, and an insignificant airport, it’s not a thoroughfare by any means. We had basically planned our own road trip around Lightning Ridge being one of the determining factors of our route.

While we’re on our sponsored trip courtesy of World Nomads, we’re publishing all full stories to our journal over there. So to read the rest of this post, click here and check it out!