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Show us who huddled inside the big airship. But soon I’d see a remarkable change and a brand new sky. ‘ We broke through a layer of puffy low-lying clouds to find ourselves over downtown Sydney on approach to the international airport, ten miles south of the city. At first I blanched at the sight of it. Sydney looked as sprawling and urban as any American Moab’s Adventu a? SAY metropolis, with a much promoted world-class skyline and suburbs that stretched to the horizon. But there were differences. All the rooftops were red. I looked for the usual tangle of freeway interchanges and saw none. And everyone, of course, was driving on the wrong side of the road. We touched down at 8:03 am, Sydney time, and I discovered that the airport, supposedly the biggest in Australia, and serving a city with a population of4 million people, was smaller and much less hectic than even Salt Lake City’s. I made my way through customs, but not as quickly as everyone else. For some reason I was pulled out of line and a customs agent carefully inspected every square inch of my baggage. I would learn to get used to this kind of special service. On my most recent trip, just last April, I was shetonighly for the fourth ‘ime: Four searches in oe trips, I Finally auld the ruddy young agent what the problem was. "Can’t really say, mate...but it’s not a random search, if that’s what you mean?" "Huh?" I said. "What do you mean...not random?" CANYON re Center the Zephyr ' Cartoonist Draw Women? 1! hf VOYAGES ADVENTURE I Can Co even oohoue: to make AL GORE Pv | iv : ARE You HOT? Chill out Ml Out ON the Colorado River. "Well...let’s just say you fit the profile." “Profile? Me?" I was stunned. "What kind of ‘profile’ is that?" "Can't really say, mate." : I exited my first customs search and found Reggie waiting for me. I cashed some travelers checks and then he led me to the new pride of his life. It was a 1983 Datsun 720, Raft Tours Boat Rentals Desert Wear River Gear Diesel-powered 4 wheel drive, dual cab Ute, with a shell. "This should get us across the Gunbarrel Highway nicely,” he explained. "The Gunbarrel?" I repeated. "T'll tell you about it later. How about a cup of coffee?" We made our way out of Sydney on two-lane roads and at a town called Wallongong, stopped for a cup. The waitress took my order and asked, "Will that be flat white?" "What's that?" I asked. "Do you want milk in it, love?" she explained. off osos up aoea his ‘give wriets- I nodded. Well, I thought to myself, I think I’m in a different country. I looked around me; nobody was asking for a tall dry quadruple non-fat decaf cappucino with a shot of vanilla. I knew I wasn’t in Moab anymore. In one respect at least, Life seemed simpler...Life was looking up. : "Do you want to drive?" asked Reggie after we had finished our flat whites and prepared to head south along the coast highway. "Not really," I said. "I don’t think I’m ready to deal with left-hand traffic." "Then you'll have to go to the other side of the car...the passenger’s seat is over there." Oh. I nodded meekly and entered the vehicle via the appropriate entrance. Not only was it odd to find the passenger seat on the left side, it was weird to be a passenger in Reggie's car. When Reggie was not working on his doctoral dissertation ("The Plight of the Balkan Peoples in the Aftermath of World War II") he had spent most of the last 20 years hitchhiking around America and the World, and I had never been sure if he even knew how to drive. This would be a new experience and it would take some getting used to. Reggie is something of a cross between Benny Hill and Margaret Thatcher. He is in some ways as spontaneous and free-flowing as anyone I’ve ever known. He will stop the car suddenly and jump into any body of water, despite weather conditions, the size of the surf, or the swiftness of the current and will emerge from the water all aglow and, in his best English falsetto say, "It’s absolutely FAB-ulous!" Reggie can go weeks without a genuine high-pressure hot shower. And he is last known to have combed his hair during the terrific wind storm in Swansea in 1967. Presenting a fashionable appearance is not at the top of Reggie’s list of priorities. In fact, he works hard at being unkempt. But he is absolutely finicky...no...downright anal when it comes to his personal possessions, his stuff and to money. Early on, he chastised me severely for laying my plastic shower bag on the hood of his 4WD Ute ("You might scratch the surface!" he exclaimed. "It could severely limit the re-sale value of the truck.") and he counted his trip expenditures to the penny ("I do believe she overcharged us on those biscuits by three cents!") Otherwise, we were quite compatible. Still, two heterosexual bachelors over 40 were just looking for trouble on a journey this long. It would be interesting. After coffee, we drove south along the New South Wales coast and spotted a dirt road leading to the beach. In Australia much of the coast is Queen’s Trust Land—public lands to us— and we set up our tents just inside the tree line and out of the sand. A couple of curious Haheenont stopped by to say hello... me mates, but are you blokes camping here?" We nodded. "Is that a problem?" “Not at all," one of them replied. "We just never seen anybody camp around here like this...you want a beer?" "Sure," we said. Over a couple of Toohey’s Gold, Malcolm explained the Art of Aussie Camping. "Can’t really say I’d like to camp the way you blokes are, without a bloody toilet or a big tent. And how do you keep your beer cold?" In the weeks ahead, we visited but rarely stayed at numerous national park campgrounds across the country. It appeared to us that most Aussies come to stay awhile when they camp. Many of them pitched massive canvas tents and filled them with everything including the kitchen sink. Many of the park ial power and small refrigerators were everywhere (for all that beer). But we rarely saw a motorhome-that Ugly American Invention is just now making its way to Australia. The evening light began to fade and my first full night in the Southern Hemisphere fell upon us. As the darkness deepened, I saw celestial sights I’d never dreamed of. Here was a night sky that was unknown to me until now. We were looking at the other end of the Milky Way and beside it, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds, two galaxies unseen north of the equator. Near midnight, the moon rose over the Pacific—it somehow looked odd to me and I couldn’t tell why. Then I tilted my head as far as it would pivot and looked again. Of course, I realized, just like the constellation Orion, we're on the bottom of the planet. The moon is upside down. | liked it. Next time: Meat pies, open roads, and the free enterprise system. P.O. Box 416 211 N. Main St. Moab, UT 84532 435.259.6007 800.733.6007 email; cnvoyage@lasal.net www.canyonvoyages.com "WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?" ae varie cox ene eu tee. (SO FAR WE'VE RECEIVED ONE ESSAY AND A BUMPER STICKER...PATHETIC.) mee, < 50-500 WORDS. Dinner nightly at 5:30 Call for reservations 92 E. CENTER STREET 435.259-4295 State liquor license = _ And now an endorsement from the Front-Runner... DUBYAH SAYS: "| like sghetti 'cause it reminds me of this country's great Eyetalian-American heritage." “THE BEST RESTAURANT IN SOUTHERN UTAH" Salt Lake Magazine |
