Final Blog: No. 10 – Australia

Blog 10 – Australia
(Darwin, Kakadu, Katherine, Daly Waters, Alice Springs, Kings Canyon, Ayers Rock/Uluru, Coober Pedy, Adelaide, Narrandera and Sydney).


Well, I have a few more days left Sydney and the time has come to sit down and to write this final blog. When I published my last post in Bali a few weeks ago, I had notions of squeezing in definitely two, if not three more blogs. What do they say about ‘best laid plans going awry?’ For what it’s worth, it would have been absolutely impossible as we have driven almost 6,500kms through Australia since we landed in Darwin and our free time has been both rare and invaluable.


It has not also been helped by the fact that we have spent a full week camping out in the bush in some of the most remote and isolated places that I have ever experienced. After the first few nights, I stopped myself going around the tent to find the electrical sockets to charge my laptop, phone and ipod. Can I clarify that the ‘going round’ took three quarters of a second and it’s more of a ‘swiveling’ of one’s head as opposed to wandering aimlessly from room to room and annex to annex searching for hidden plug sockets. Believe me when I say that the tents were VERY basic and consisted of two built-in platforms with slim plastic mattresses. Each tent was located a couple of feet apart from each other and during the night, when I’d turn over to face the ‘wall’, I could almost feel the breath of the person in the next tent on my face. Am I doing a good job in conveying how basic a set-up camping in Australia is?

I have found myself to be so excited whilst being in Australia. For many years, it is a country that I have longed to travel to and it has exceeded my expectations in many respects. Standing at Ayers Rock and watching the sun rise was a sight that I never thought that I’d be fortunate enough to witness, but I did and it was so memorable. I have been shocked at how sparsely populated it is and whilst driving on the Stuart Highway which is a 3,000 kms highway from Darwin to Adelaide, it is possible to travel for thirty or forty kms, (sometimes even longer) without meeting another vehicle. I have seen every type of wild animal, dingoes, kangaroos, lizards, camels, possums, snakes and lots and lots of very ugly spiders with big hairy legs. However, the dreaded Redback spider has eluded me – although I worry that he (or she) is nestled securely in the folds of my rucksack waiting to make an appearance when I’m innocently emptying my case in Renvyle. And what do you bet but on the day I’m bitten, the roads will be too frosty to travel to Galway A&E and I won’t get the antidote in enough time to stop the venom going through my blood system ….. and I’ll become a Redback Spider statistic in my little grey home in the west.


But in saying all that, it hasn’t stopped me LOOKING for the Redback Spider – especially after our tour leader’s comment on our very first night of camping. I had been very cool and collected about camping in the bush in Australia and although there was much talk about poisonous insects and wild animals devouring us during the night, I really was quite laid back about it all. As we were eating dinner in the campsite canteen (that night I think it was Kangaroo steaks and Camel sausages … and I’m NOT joking!), Lana informed us that when she was leading the same trip earlier in the year, on her first night camping, she discovered a Redback spider IN her camp bed. She then kindly showed us a video recording of the said spider … and ON closer inspection, (my contact lenses stuck to the laptop screen), the arachnid most definitely had a large red stripe running down his back … as well as fangs! From then on, I changed my strategy and became, shall we say ‘less laid back’ and each night prior to getting into my sleeping bag, with my little flashlight in hand and my can of Redback spider spray, I stood at the door and fumigated and decontaminated every corner and orifice of the tents interior. Whatever poor soul I happened to be sharing with – usually Christina from Germany, invariably needed resuscitation as the spray and odours from the aerosol can really take ones breath away. And more often than not, it did hers! But I didn’t care, I had my Mount Merapi volcano ash face mask on me and had became so competent in my murderous role that Rentokill would be head-hunting me if they knew how good I was at exterminating and eradicating Redbacks.


But in saying all of that, you know, I really didn’t mind camping too much and for the most part, I slept relatively well. Some nights it was freezing cold and other nights, the heat was unbearable. It simply shows how large a country Australia is when we could experience the different nightly temperatures over the space of days. The heat was probably more difficult to endure than the cold. I mentioned Christina earlier (she has all the gadgets – being from Germany, she is very organized and came prepared for every eventuality!). I entered the roasting hot tent one night, spent my customary fifteen minutes spraying ahead of me, undressed in the dark and got into the sleeping bag. Then I heard it – a whirring noise – like a food mixer noise, coming from the direction of my right ear. Do Redbacks ‘whirr’ was my first thought? Christina was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her. So up I got, located my flashlight and went on the search of the ‘whirr’. I wandered around the tent like Sherlock Holmes with his magnifying glass – shining my beam in our rucksacks, walking boots, daypacks, and toiletry bags and still couldn’t locate the noise. I then shone the beam directly at Christina and she awoke with a start – full sure that she was being pillaged in the wilds of the Australian bush.” “The noise’, I said, ‘can you hear it - what is it?’’ She yawned and said “Oh, ignore it - that’s just the fan for my face” and she then produced this battery-operated windmill shaped yoke from the top of her pillow – with big silver propeller wings on it. I apologized for waking her, put in my earplugs and climbed back into bed. All through the night, I eyed the device nervously and slept with one eye open. I was convinced that one of the whirring stainless steel silver blades on the machine would detach itself, fly across the tent and embed itself in my right jaw. As we were so far from civilisation, I had visions of the tour leader being forced to make a call to The Flying Doctors to airlift me to hospital and have my jaw re-constructed with bone taken from my right hip. This would be after the medics had used a crowbar to dig the wing of the fan or the propeller out of my face. Anyway, it didn’t happen and I lived to tell the tale – meanwhile Christina emerged from the tent in the morning having experienced the best sleep of her life and I emerged like the Wreck of the Hesperus from not closing an eye ….. and the people in the two adjoining tents are still giving us funny and confused looks as to what the noise was!


Over the last few blogs, I have mentioned my poor sense of direction but I’m afraid that it hit an all time low since I arrived in Australia. Almost every night whilst camping, I found myself losing my bearings going from the tent to the bathroom during the night. Although I’d have my flashlight with me, I really struggled to make my way across paths and campground. Generally I’d be able to find the toilets but never able to find my way back to the tent. Whilst camping in Kings Canyon, we arrived in the evening time and having found myself lost on the previous two nights, I really made a conscientious effort to get my bearings – i.e. locate the tent and locate the toilet block and work out the route between them. I mean, how difficult could it be? A journey of about two minutes – seems easy enough! Well in daylight it was! That night I was fortunate enough to be allocated my own tent and after opening my bottle of bubbly in excitement at the prospect of not sharing, I went to bed. At 3.30 a.m. I awoke just bursting to go to the loo and confident that I had done my recce earlier that evening, I grabbed my torch and in my best sky blue pyjamas and flip flops, headed out to find the toilet block. Just as I had done earlier, I walked up the path, through the two bushes, down the hill, across the flat plateau bit and saw the lights of the building, entered, used the loo, washed my hands and wandered out. I walked across the flat plateau bit, did the hill bit and searched for the bushes to walk between … and they were GONE …. disappeared! I stood there in a state of confusion, turned north, south, east and west … and returned to the toilet block thinking ‘I’ve missed something - I’ll start again and re-trace my steps’. So back I went to the toilets, came out the door, walked down the flat bit, did the hill and shone my torch in every direction, including skywards, in case the bushes had elevated themselves into the sky from when I entered to when I exited. But there was still no sign of any foliage. I was so convinced that I had done nothing wrong but I just could not get my bearings or figure out where the bushes had gone, or more importantly how could I get back to my tent.


I decided that if I tried walking a few directions I might just stumble across the fifteen tents – in fact, considering they were only two minutes walk from the toilet block, one would thing that it was highly probable. Well, probability statistics doesn’t always work out because without doubt I did plenty of stumbling, but unfortunately not across any of the tents. If you could just imagine it – my little frame (!) clad in my little pyjamas (!) with my little flashlight wandering through the darkest campsite that I’ve ever seen at half three in the morning … for what seemed like ages. I felt that I couldn’t go too far from the lights of the toilet block as I would disappear out of the campsite and would never be seen again. The thought went through my mind of the Oz Bus group finding my bones scattered across Kings Canyons the following morning – mauled to my death and eaten by the starving dingoes. (and you think I might be joking!). And I wouldn’t mind but fresh in my head was the revelation that only that evening, someone had spotted a big black snake on the ground under the trees – and I figured that when the search party was looking for my body, when they sliced open Sid the Snake, his stomach would contain my full unchewed body …. and my still lighting torch! At one stage throughout the forty minutes of being lost in the wilds, I lost sight of the toilet block and found myself surrounded by trees and I honestly thought that I was well and truly fecked! You know those articles in the National Enquirer which read ‘LOCATED: Missing eleven year old boy found deep in jungle ….. raised by wolves’. Well, I’m not a boy and I’m not eleven but I thought when I lost sight of all lights that I really could be the headline in the Enquirer. When I’d be eventually discovered in the jungle in the year 2037, I’d be crawling around on all fours and would have forgotten how to speak except to communicate via ‘wolf’ or ‘dingo’ language. My first interview with Oprah would be via a series of growls and howls and every five minutes, her Production Assistant would have to wipe my saliva from my microphone – for fear that I’d electrocute myself – with the physics of water and electricity conduction being what it is.


Anyway, to make a long story short, I found my way back to the toilet block again and decided that I should just wait there until someone else came to use the loos. And that’s exactly what I did. Poor twenty two year old Norwegian Kenneth innocently made his way up the path with his flashlight and I saw him coming and hid inside the cubicle door of the women’s toilet. When I heard him exiting the toilet block, I launched myself – almost piggybacking on him down as far as the tent. He really said hardly anything – I wondered in fact if he was sleep walking or if I had just petrified him into being unable to utter a single and decipherable word. I have no doubt but he thinks that I’m a lecherous old woman who stalks young men, using the urinals as my hunting ground.. but you know what, I don’t care. I made it back to the tent and I swear, I was never so glad to see my bed in my life. I lay there for at least an hour unable to sleep and still could not figure out how I had found myself to be so lost. I discovered the next day that the women’s toilets had two exits and my problem was that I entered one way, come out the other door and not realized that I was heading in a completely different direction …. and it was no wonder that I couldn’t find the two bushes when they were the other side of the building. After that experience, I adopted a new strategy when camping and from midday onwards, I refused to put a drop of liquid of any description to my mouth and as a result, didn’t have to leave the confines of the tent to use the bathroom. I decided that regardless of how many recces’ I had performed, I’m simply not able to be left to my own directional devices in the dead of night. Perhaps if I had the contact lenses in I might have a better chance, but I’m afraid, without them, there’s a 50:50 chance that I’d fall to my death, be eaten to my death or starve to death ….and my flip flopped pyjama’d corpse would be a sorry sight to behold. So even at deaths door for several nights with dehydration, I decided that there was still a higher likelihood of survival rather than dying alone in the bush.

As the nights went on, I became more and more used to the lack of luxuries and when we eventually had a night in a hostel, in my mind, I may as well have been booked into a five star hotel, such was my excitement of upgrading from camping. I walked into the eight person dorm and thought ‘Oh my God … I have died and gone to heaven … pure luxury’. Did I care that the bathroom was shared with about ten other dorms and was about a three minute walk away up and down a series of corridors? Not one bit – I couldn’t believe my luck that we were indoors and had electricity and could put away our torches! This Oz Bus trip has really taught me to appreciate the little luxuries that I wouldn’t even have noticed prior to coming on the bus. In fact, at times over the last three months, I have found myself lying in bed at night in a six or eight person dorm, all my laundry has been washed, I have been washed, I’ve talked to the folks at home, I’m ready to drift off to sleep, and I just think .. ‘how could life be any better?’ Now, the alternative view is that ‘she’s sleeping in bunk beds with people she hardly knows, no bathroom on the same floor level, she’s wearing the same few clothes for months, queuing for and sharing pretty grimy cold showers … and how could she inflict that on herself at her age?’. But you know, at no point since I came on the bus have I felt that I had made a mistake in doing so, and with only two more days remaining, that in itself is a wonderful feeling to have.


Getting off the bus in Sydney for the last time was sad and emotional and saying goodbye to all the Oz Busers was difficult – obviously depending on how well we got on with each other. It was so strange for the first couple of days not being told what time to get up at, what time to be on the bus etc. etc and we all felt that we had become quiet ‘institutionalised’ over the preceding 92 days. We have laughed together about how it must compare to how hostages must feel when they are released from captivity after a long period of incarceration. For the first few days, we didn’t really know what to do with ourselves and tended to turn to the other Oz Busers who were still around and staying the hostels. Now we’re finding our wings and are all gradually separating and proceeding with our own personal plans. I have absolutely no doubt but I have made friends with certain people on the bus which will last a long time ….. and I’m told that we have the Oz Bus 20 Reunion taking place in Renvyle. My generosity when drinking pints knows no bounds! I reckon we’ll hire Michael Nee’s Bus for the event and drive up and down the length and breadth of Connemara for the duration of the party!


So to conclude this last and final blog, I want to thank you all for reading it and being part of my journey with me over the last fourteen weeks. The emails, the comments and the Facebook posts have mattered hugely and I can not stress to you how good I have felt when I have received feedback about how you may have enjoyed reading the blog and if a particular story made you laugh. Anyone who does any sort of writing will know that it takes quite a lot of self-discipline to put pen to paper (or in my case, fingers to laptop!) and I would be lying if I were to say that throughout this trip, sacrifices were not made in finding the time to write and update the blog. I frequently struggled with personal conflicts such as thinking, ‘Debbie, you’re only in this location for one day, you’ll never be back here again, and you’re spending your free time writing and seeing nothing of the place you’re in’. I am being honest when I say that whenever I questioned myself as to whether I was making a mistake in missing particular tours or forfeiting sight-seeing trips because of my opting to blog, it was most definitely, your positive feed-back that always made me choose to write and made me believe that I was making the right decision. I’m aware that it sounds so egotistical to admit that it was praise and encouragement that spurred me on but credit where it’s due – in so many respects, it is you and your enjoyment of this blog that has kept it going.


And with two more days left until I come home, I am experiencing such an array of emotions. I feel a wonderful sense of pride and satisfaction that I have completed the Oz Bus trip – it is a dream fulfilled. I also have a strong sense of nostalgia as it is the icing on the cake in relation to the changes I have made in my life over the last four and a half years, i.e. leaving work, returning to education, etc. Although I have absolutely no idea what I will be working at or where I will be in 2011, I’m experiencing a mixture of nervousness and excitement about what the future will hold. And, as I sign off on this final paragraph, I feel a genuine and heartfelt sadness that my communication with you all has come to an end. Again, I thank you sincerely for reading my blogs, for making me believe that what I was writing was worthwhile, and for accompanying me on my 26,000 kilometers Oz Bus journey.

My love to you all,
Debbie x

Ode to Oz Bus 20

To all the Oz Busers ..... publishing the poem as promised.
To anyone else who reads this, apologies for all the 'in-jokes' ..... its simply a wrap up to our Bus trip.

Final blog will be written from Sydney next week.


Ode to Oz Bus 20
The journey it started on the fifth of September,

It’s now thirteen long weeks, let’s reflect and remember.

When we reached the Embankment, each with rucksack or case,

Three months of possessions taking up every space.

Our life long belongings wrapped in plastic containers,

Each with two pairs of flip flops, and one pair of trainers.

The men had their pen knives, their torches and crampons,

The women, meanwhile, had their case filled with tampons.

‘Bring as much as you can’, it was Lana’s suggestion,

For they won’t be on sale, in the countries, in question.

And being keen to comply and obey all Oz Bus laws,

We’d all brought supplies ‘til we reached menopause.

On that very first day, there were visa inspections,

Also talk about jabs, and who got, what injections.

And what network for roaming you’d set for your phone,

And who had invested, in costly, Malerone.

We talked at the start, about each person’s plan,

We lamented the visa we’d bought for Pakistan.

As the journey progressed, with Danis at the wheel,

Through Europe we drove, it was all quite surreal.

Many hours on the bus, we learned all about patience,

The bus stopped by itself when we reached Service Stations.

Surviving on crisps, diet coke and white bread,

Meant teeth became loose and hair fell from our head.

And despite protestations and despite mounting pickets,

We succumbed to bow legs, and we contracted rickets.

When we’d reach a new city, we would all get quite tetchy,

As poor Danis’s directions, to hostels, were sketchy.

With Sat Nav on the blink – Oz Bus life, wasn’t dull.

We spent two days, on the bus, circling round Istanbul.

Streets being too narrow, made the atmosphere terse,

And half of that time, the bus drove in reverse.

But the good times were many, we moved into Iran,

And discovered that life there, was good for a man.

We all risked being stoned if revealing one’s body,

No alcohol served, just four types of Mi-Wadi.

And each night without gargle required sedation.

Wearing scarves round our heads causing asphyxiation.

But we survived the country, without getting killed,

People’s journeys have differed, diverse needs being fulfilled.

We’ve acquired new skills and through practice each week,

We’ve mastered the art of the squatting technique.

Many countries ago, there were shrieks all around,

When confronted in Turkey with the hole in the ground.

Despite best intentions, and regular strops,

Less pee hit the target than what hit our flip flops.

Water consumption – it became the solution,

The females adopted camel-like constitutions.

But when desperate to go and when forced to the loos,

Colostomy bags, were discussed in the queues.

And with time, we discovered that the squat had an art,

And this knowledge my friends, I now will impart.

Before you go in, there’s some steps you must follow,

You must practice your breathing, so the flies, you don’t swallow.

You must roll up the trousers, and stretch out all your muscles,

And loosen your buttons, so there’ll be, no mad tussles.

You retrieve your loo paper, say a prayer for your plight,

And to Allah you beg, that you don’t, get stage fright.

For whilst queuing for toilets, there’s no difference in classes,

As the women on Oz Bus all become braying asses.

And you know you’re in trouble, when you exceed your times,

Through dawdling, committing the most serious, of crimes.

As you exit, you see the queue checking clock watches,

Their faces like thunder – each one holding their crotches.

As you shame-facedly pass, you’re guaranteed a hard thump,

Best advice being to run - …. the Oz Bus, Forrest Gump.

Throughout the adventure, we’ve enjoyed different scenes,

We’ve acquired new friends, we know each ones routines.

We recognize clothes, we know each persons towels,

We know intimate workings of each passenger’s bowels.

There’s been laughter and gossip and we’ve shared many hugs,

We have learned the importance of a set of ear plugs.

And the fun we have had as we frolicked on beaches,

Has been matched by the horror of detaching black leeches.

Despite the precautions and a can filled with Deet,

Leeches just loved all the Oz Busers feet.

And whilst wandering the jungle, the Guides deep in a trance,

The Oz Busers behind, doing their own Riverdance.

With the shrieking and howling, the wild beasts didn’t wait,

They had adequate time to be in the next State.

With our trip almost ended, we have gained so much knowledge,

Surpassing all that which we could learn at College.

We now know that crutches result from a fall,

When starjumps are performed from a two foot high wall.

Penicillin we’ve learned just does not make the grade,

And it turns people’s legs a deep purple-type shade.

This trivia I stress, isn’t just to fill cracks,

It’s important to stress that they’re all Oz Bus Facts!

And now in Australia, we’ve been blessed with MacGyver,

We’ve discovered a gem in having Rick as our driver.

Even driving through rain, intense sun and sand blizzards,

He can spot from the bus, obscure species of lizards.

As they sit in his hand, and he highlights their features,

The girls, taking photos of Rick, and not of the creatures.

So to finish this ode, without doubt there’ll be sorrow,

When we won’t be hearing Lana tell the plans for tomorrrrooooow!

No more days on the bus twisted into the seats,

Drooling and snoring and toothache from the sweets.

Our bodies contorted, thirty bored and pained faces,

Our heads like a rag doll and our neck requiring braces.

Tonight as we sit here, we’ve memories plenty,

United by being, a part of, Oz Bus Twenty.

And on journeys in future, we can say ‘what’s the fuss?’,

Cos’ we’ve travelled from London to Sydney ….. on a bus!





Debbie Ruddy

1st December 2010