My involvement with Angus and Erin began with a phone call. Port Douglas was pleasant enough but there was more of Australia to see. It would require overland travel. When I was younger and an art student, I printed an image of a railroad disappearing in the Australian sunset. Stark and vast filled with loneliness. My Mother saved all my art work. That artwork disappeared in the many hurricanes that swept over the City of Dreams.
Meeting Andrea at Port Douglas was the highlight of this trip. She quickly became a confidant. A beautiful young blond from Germany who was confidently confident and well-poised but nervous as a beer drinking deer.
The Australian Pygmalion was about to begin the dance. I left her to her own devices. I thought I would get laid in the shade. She quickly said goodnight.
Angus and Erin are so into Australian culture it became infectious. Maybe it's because they are Australians. The drive to Darwin was beginning.
The Tropics at last. The learning curves were curling up like potato curls. Barefoot and footloose driving cramped in that little diesel Lica van 4X4 from Tokyo made the trip incredibly special. But who is this blond skinny girl sitting in the back?
The blond girl is always watching, never speaking. The rustle of the plastic white bread wrapper is the only sound coming from behind me. The conversations are brief and filled with gloomy silence as if they never happened.
The road goes on forever. Just like life. Deep and shallow thoughts prevaded my mind depending on the perception one relies on.
We went everywhere. The Katherine Gorge had been the home of the aborigines for eons. Like any good, upstanding Sapien, they left their mark in red orchre.
Renting kayaks was the order of the day because if one had to paddle up shits' creek without a paddle. You get the idea. Paddling Madeline home was not easy.
Me and the blond girl made an unlikely pair. If its not one thing, its another. She wanted to steer but the rental operator told her its the man's privilege. Rubbish! Whatever. Get in the boat and we will sort this out some other time.
The abo paintings were truly remarkable. I've seen a great deal of this type of art all over the world. What is significant is how similar they look to scenes in other locales almost as if the artist was the same. The similarities are striking. Great minds think alike? Same art teacher? We paddled on to the very end then got out to view these frescos up close.
When we got to Darwin, I bailed. I rented a space at the Hostel in Darwin. I invited everyone I knew to come for a free shower much to the chagrin of some the patrons. Everybody got along just fine and backed off. I was too sturdy of a guy to argue with. I always find the library just to immerse myself reading the newspapers.
I was there in Darwin to meet with a yacht I contacted looking for crew. This ship was from the small islands off the Southern shores of England. Not the Channel Islands but different. The Cillies or something like that. North of Darwin I met the ship.
It was a long walk to the docks. I got used to it though, stopping at various hostels along the way to grab a shower to freshen up without being questioned. They all have outdoor showers which makes sense in the Tropics.
I found the ship and signed on as the Medical Officer. The only time I had to practice my skills when the English blokes went drinking and one of them stubbed his big toe. It inflated with fluids and took the whole voyage to heal up. All I could do was soak it in salt water to draw out the fluids and keep infections at bay.
The skipper was sailing with a longtime friend whose ship was much older and in need of repair. Thus the trip to Singapore. The shipyards in Singapore are super cheap.
Lonnie is an Aussie junkie, fully recovered and reasonably sane. However, there were a few incidents that made me see things differently. He had a young woman as part of the crew whom I grew fond of. Unrequited love is distressing.
I was chosen to change the masthead light because I am a fittest of the overfed crew. The shipmates hauled me up to the masthead in the boson's chair. It was a great view.
I was a bit frightened by my shipmates being they were older, inexperienced men from England. They failed to belay the line which means taking few turns around the deck cleat. They held me up there by pure determination. I hurriedly unscrewed the globe, sanded the connections and inserted the new 150 dollar bulb. I gave the signal to lower the chair. I could see these guys' exhaustion in the hot sun. All's well that ends well. They bought the beer that night.
We staged up for our turn through the locks. The locks are there to drastically cut down on invasive creatures. That meant one has to scrub the bottom coming and going. Those Aussie dockmen sure loved to harass a tourist ship by laughing and joking about their cleaning skills. You missed a spot...
Not a puff of air the whole trip up to Dili. Everyone was cranky. We could hardly believe how shoddily we were being treated by Nature. We motored all the way.
This makes for a restless time in the rack with the engine coughing diesel fumes as you try to rest while throwing your cookies up. Puke smells the same no matter who is seasick. When you get down to Green Bile it's time to drink water again. Bile burns like fire coming up.
We finally raised Dili. The ship stood off until we received clearance from the Harbormaster. Nothing works like a roll of 100 dollar bills clearly showing in your shorts.
Lonnie proceeded to ground his ship on the only giant boulder in the small harbor. He put on his scuba gear looking perfectly foolish. He splashed overboard to take a look at the damage. There was none. Only a few layers of bottom paint were scrapped off. Australian wood is tough, mate.
I had decided not to continue on this nonsense voyage. I packed my seabag and rowed ashore leaving this geriatric crew to learn the hard way.
My next stop was the hostel. This was a pitiful affair in itself. I was shocked at this place where so many young people lost their way. I met a beautiful Korean gal whom I kept company with for a few days. No sex. You think western girls are tough?
We all caught the ferry to Atauro Island. Geez another boat ride and seasickness. The Atauro adventure begins.
