Australian Adventure: Log 7

The adventure is underway, the heaps of rain that fell last night has soaked the airstrip, but that didn’t stop Mark and Glenn from lifting up into the air after yet another few early morning anecdotes from eccentric Roy, the airfield custodian. Mark takes a few try before he’s able to get up into the air, then Glenn lifts off in follow. Craig and I break camp and after another chat with Roy, a couple shots of the local Kangaroo, we’re off down the A6 in chase of the “Jellyfish in the sky,” as Glen and Mark quickly become known as. We are relieved that we are finally doing what we were supposed to be, and that we could now concentrate on the task at hand and not all the little worries about what could go wrong.

We’re headed for the prescribed landing point just past Challengers Towers, a gold mining city about 90 km down the road. Along the way we keep gazing in to the sky looking for the colourful wings and into farmers paddocks just in case. We see nothing for 70 km, then as we round a bend, there is Glen, circling above the road only a couple hundred meters in front of us. A quick look into the paddock to the left I catch Mark on the ground. We pull over, not knowing if there was a physical or mechanical problem that forced the two onto the ground well before the goal. Craig runs into the tall grass beside the road, jumps a fence and checks on Mark. I go to follow, but pull up short of the grass, in the back of my mind; I know that this is snake country, and that that tall grass is snake territory. I yell to Craig to ensure Mark is unhurt, he yells back, Yeah, he’s fine, just misread his fuel level,” and I get away with not having to venturing out into the unknown. There isn’t a whole lot I’m scared of, but one of my biggest frights is snakes, and Australia is home to eight of the ten most deadliest. We pack up the wings, lay the paramotors by the fence and shove off to Challenger Towers to get some food and internet.

Challengers Towers is an interesting mining town built during the gold rush, with classic Outback architecture. The people are extremely friendly and we are approached everywhere we go, asking what we were doing. “Whats a Paramotor?” After a long break at a caravan parking lot, Glenn and Mark came to the conclusion that the conditions were not clearing up enough for an evening run, and so we packed up and headed out of town, stopping at a tourist stop near a display mine shaft and wooden elevator tower to see if overnighting was allowed.

The mosquitoes were out, and as the sun dipped down to the horizon, a massive bat came flying over. Soon another one flew over, then a couple more. Glenn has seen this phenomena several times, and comments, “here they come, we’re going to see millions of the little bastards.” Sure enough, the sky was being blacked out with the dark wings of hundreds of thousands of bats. They were coming from the south west, and three main arms stretched over us, as the herds moved off to the East. What a phenomenal sight, it was rare that I ever get to see a single bat in Canada, and now the Moon was being blackened out by the sheer mass of Bats from horizon to horizon. After a good half hour of watching the spectacular sight, our stomachs started talking louder than the squeal of the Bats overhead and we pushed out to “6 Mile Bridge” where a camping friendly rest stop was found just on the other side overlooking the long bridge. As we pulled into the lot just up from the water, a warning sign read, “WARNING – This area is inhabited by Crocodiles!” However, the others did not fear these words, and to be honest, it didn’t bother me much either, my fear was of the serpents in the tall grass. A quick dinner is made, and we’re off to bed, Glenn and Mark not fazed by the proximity to the river and its rather large deadly inhabitants, and string up the hammock and tent once again.

The Next day, we’re up with the suns pre-dawn light, and get out to the motors just after the sun breaks. I know that I now will have to venture into the deep grass over to the paddock to help Mark and Glenn get up into the air. The other three trump confidently through to the fence not fearing the ground they walk, while I stumble along at a snail’s pace, carrying as much equipment as I can, so that I only need to make the unnerving walk once. I prod the grass with a long stick, but the ground is covered with old cuttings, disguising the bottom few inches. As I make my way to the fence line, the other three chuckle at my fear, however in the freshly munched grass of the cows paddock, I’m much more confident. Mark has a couple failed attempts to get into the sky, narrowly missing the barbed wire fence, then the wind changes and we need to relocate the runway up over the hill. With another attempt, Mark runs down through the paddock, ironically over the bleached bones of a dead cow, then loses his feet and comes crashing down to the ground. His Paramotor smashes into the ground, the rear frame bends and catches the carbon fibre prop. RACK… the black propeller explodes into tiny shards, pieces hitting me several meters away as I try to film the event. Mark has broken a prop, and the only spare we have left is 10 klicks down the road at the rest area, where we left the trailer.

Australian Adventure: Log 6

That night was one of the worst I’ve ever experienced. The heat was relentless, the humidity was just gross and there was no breeze to cool down the camper. Still suffering from heat stroke, not able to sleep in the heat, I lay in bed sweating profusely. It really is gross, no mater what I do, I can’t stop sweating, its like I’m in the middle of a hard summers run, but I’m just lying in bed, creating a pool underneath. I pull out a towel to lay on and another for the pillow to save some kind of hygenic sanity, but the water is coming out faster than I can replace it.

It is a night from hell, and the sun just couldn’t rise fast enough. I didn’t get one wink all night, and all I wanted to do is get up and sweat somewhere else, other than in my bed. Like a cruel trick, the sun breaks just as the early morning temperatures come to a non-sweating level, bumping them right back up again. Enough is enough, I’m getting up. My head still aches from the heat stroke and my energy is at zero as a meander over to the washrooms for a quick shower. It feels great to get under some cold water, but all the washing is for not as I’m a sweaty mess as soon as a make it back to the trailer. All its good for is taking off the layers of old sunscreen, bug spray and previous perspirations in turn for fresh layers

It’s an early run out to an airstrip about 50km out of Townsville, we are greeted by the airstips caretaker, an eccentric old guy named Roy, who amusses us with all the anecdotes we could ever ask for. Then when he’s not chuckling out a story, he’s “whooping” with amazement at everything he sees. He’s a character to say the least. Glen and Mark are setting up the Paramotors for their first flights. However, it wouldn’t take long for drama to ensue as Marks first take off is late and sketchy at best. He clips a tall bush at full throttle, and circles around the airstrip looking rather uncontrolled. Then he makes a dart for the ground, not letting up his speed and crashes into the ground at nearly 50 kmh. Craig runs to the crash site while I get the money shot on video, problem was the sun was obscuring the screen and missed the whole shot. Regardless, Mark is on his feet, just a couple bruises to tell he had just fallen out of the sky. The issue was a mirror strapped to his wrist to check his fuel levels. It had become tangeled in his steering and brake lines on takeoff, and sent him on an uncontrollable ride into the ground. However, he’s all fine and after a couple flights, both pilots know what needs changing and what’s good to go.

Headed back to town, its still early in the morning, however, with the sun much higher in the sky, I can feel the heat stroke soaking back in. I’ve had a camel back hanging from my mouth for nearly 24-hours now, and I’m already on litre number 4 of water today. A headache, bit of nausea and very little energy had me and Craig moping around the site, slowly loading up the truck and camper to move out to the airstrip that night, so that the pilots can take off first thing in the morning and we can hit the road.

Arriving back at the airstrip, We’re greeted by Roy once again, and yet another couple stories distract him as we set up camp next to a barn. I start cooking up some sausages for dinner while darkness falls, multi-tasking as I set up a camera to shoot a spectacular lightning storm that his floating in from the west. Glen and Mark are making last minute modifications to the paramotors before we all sit down to eat dinner and watch the spectacular light show going off in the distance. A full moon and clear sky behind us shines more than enough light for us to eat. It looks as though the storm won’t quite make it to us, then a few minutes later, we see that it is spreading out to the sides, and an arm of cloud has actually reached around the back of us, almost like a hook, reeling us into the storm. A quick cleanup and we’re off to bed; I throw a towel over the hole in the roof above my bed, just in case it rains. in the darkness, then a quick clean up and off to bed.

Out here the temperature is much cooler, less humidity and a breeze being sucked in by the storm is making form one of the most comfortable nights yet. I’m just about to fall asleep when… CRACK… the inside of the trailer lights up as a streak of lightning strikes somewhere very close. All of a sudden, the silent streaks of lightning we were watching earlier were now upon us with the upmost fiery. Sheet lightning fills the sky, Buckets of rain begin to fall, and the trailer begins to shake with the force of high winds. At first nothing is coming in as we have all the windows open to cool the camper down. Then, water starts to spray in from the left side, and Craig and I close it up. Then the wind picks up even more, one of the paramotors just outside topples over and I notice a light in the garage. Glen has dragged his tent into the barn then runs out to save the paramotors in the driving rain. Craig in nothing more than his underwear, bolts out the door to help, quickly returning completely soaked, while I’m trying to zipper up the right side as the wind has changed. Then the trailer begins to rock back and forward, the wind pushing it, the walls bubbling in like some great force on the other side wants to get at us as the lightning continues to streak all around us, great booms of thunder quickly follow. Somewhere out in the tree’s, Mark was still in his hammock, likely getting rocked around more than us.  I jump back up into my bed, the angle of the rear window is currently enough to keep the rain out, at least for now. However, the tear in the fabric roof above my head is giving up the ghost as the towel has blown away and water begins to stream down next to my head. I spend several more minutes maneuvering my mattress and laying down another towel to soak up what was getting in, but it was a fruitless attempt.

Mercifully, the crashes of thunder became more and more distant, and the rain eased to a slight shower to nothing at all, and the bright full moon showed its face once again. With a mattress only slightly damp, I could now get some much needed and earned sleep. Our introduction to the expedition proper was official and something we will not soon forget. The boys will be in the sky for the first leg in the morning.

Australian Adventur: Log 5

Still in a shiver, I’ve watched the sun come up, unable to sleep in the cold damp humid camper. The rest stop we laid up in was quite a nice large park with a pond in the middle. Several different kinds of birds scoured the ground in search of their early morning breakfast while a thick eerie fog hung in the humid air. Enough is enough, I’m getting up and going to have myself a bird bath over in the washrooms, grab my towel and go for a walk in the early morning fog as the others sleep. Walking past the pond full of vegetation and wildlife, my mind can’t help but realize that I’m now getting into crock country, and my senses are on high alert, even though I know there is little danger. A quick splash, wash and dry and I’m a new man heading back to the camper.

The rest of the crew are now rolling out of bed, getting ready for a long days travel towards Townsville, 1200 kilometres away. As we hit the road, the fog lifts and the blazing sun beats down, temperature shooting north of 30-degrees and it isn’t even 8 in the morning. While the rest of the crew are basking in the heat, my Nordic blood is reacting in a much different manner. The refreshed cleanliness of my morning wash turns into a mid-morning mess of sweat and burning skin. I figured a day spent in the car wouldn’t require slapping on the sun block for at least a couple more hours, oh how wrong I was.

As is becoming a morning ritual, we find a McDonalds in Bundaburg for a bit of breakfast and short jaunt of Facebook and blog updating. Then it’s back on the road heading north, where more heat and humidity lies in wait. Now with sunscreen on, it doesn’t seem to matter, with the sun beating down at an angle; my left arm is a slave to the unrelenting rays. Stuck in my seat, the Nissan just keeps getting hotter and hotter, and word of stopping on a beach a ways up the coast is a refreshing sound as I sweat away, only the hot breeze coming through the window keeping me sane.

As we work our way north, the scenery change is magnificent. The lush tropical hills of Surfers Paradise fads into the wide open expanses of savannah, wide open flat country with large trees sparsely spread throughout, with low pointed mountains far off in the distance, it’s a mixture of the African savannah and coastal mountains of Asia. By 2 pm, I’m working my third litre of water, and it occurs to me that I haven’t gone to the washroom yet.

Soon, we come across sand dunes, and just beyond the beach, and we pull over for a much needed dip, four men peeling themselves out of the hot stinky Nissan. The ocean never looked so good, it’s just a shame it’s so far away. We hit at the height of low tide, and the long shallow beach stretched on for kilometres, a refreshing dip a frustratingly harsh hike away. So, a quick moment to unwind on the beach, and we are back into the stink box for another 8-hours.

By the time it was my turn to drive, darkness had fallen, and reaching Townsville today was just not going to happen. As fatigue took its toll, I searched for a rest stop to spend the night. However, it would take another hour before we would find anything, and in our desperation, a truck stop would have to do. However, the Nissan began to run rough pulling into the stop, stalling several times when jumping on the clutch, a new challenge is likely ahead.

I wake up in another sweaty mess, just wanting to get out of bed, very little sleep as big diesel rigs pass by all night. However, a glorious sunrise gives some beauty to an otherwise uninspiring truck stop. Back on the road, it only takes us a couple hours to reach Townsville, a nice tropical city on the ocean that wraps around a large plateau. It’s a beautiful city, and we find a caravan park right on the ocean. Ah, we’ll get that ocean swim after all. “Nope, there’s stingers in the water there, the closest swimming area is down the coast,” utters the attendant at the park. Damn.

We set up, and do final checks on all the equipment and electronics giving Glen and Marks issues, while the truck is giving me and Craig stress as well. The humidity here is ridiculous and the temp is well over 30, how far I have no idea, and I don’t want to know, however, it all hit me in an instant, lifting a load into the roof rack. All of a sudden my head goes light, and my heart begins to race. I know exactly what going on and stumble over to the tap to douse my head and body with water, which doesn’t make me any wetter than my already sweat drenched cloths and take in as much water as I my stomach can handle. My energy level plummets as heat overtakes my body. “I’m out,” I comment as I stumble over to the shade of a tree. The heat finally got me, I’d been battling it since I landed two weeks ago, and now I lay exhausted and useless against a tree, as mosquitos attack every inch of my body; a camel back tube constantly hanging from my mouth.