Hello people,

Back in Melbourne now. Tassie was fantastic.

What made the trip so great was Damian, our guide. I had my reservations
about him at first, but he turned out to be a really smart, funny,
interesting guy. He always had a story to tell or a funny expression to
use. He's very passionate and knowledgeable about Tasmanian ecology. A
real greenie. Vocal and pro-active. He'd stop the bus in front of a field
to tell us how damming or clear-cutting had destroyed the natural
environment, or he'd badmouth a logging truck as it drove by. There was an
article about him and his friends and their search for the
supposedly-extinct Tasmanian tiger in the Fall 1999 issue of National
Geographic Adventure magazine. Damian and I hung out together for most of
the trip.

Damian, or Dumpy as I came to know him, is planning on leaving the tour
company and starting up his own eco-friendly, green tour with his fiance,
Kim. I'm planning on making a Web page for him.

After we left Hobart, we traveled up the rugged west coast, where we did
lots of crazy mountain hikes and freezing rainforest walks. We climbed
10,000-year-old sand dunes and walked among swamp gums that were hundreds of
years old and the tallest trees in the world. We also stopped at a 30 km
uninhabited beach on the west coast. Looking out over the water, you could
draw a straight line over the ocean to Antarctica (we were only 4,000 km from
the south pole), Africa, and Western Australia. And we stopped to eat some
wild blackberries on the side of the road. Some of the most beautiful
sights passed too quickly for me to take a picture while I was riding on the
bus.

The mountain hikes were insane. One of our last stops was Cradle Mountain.
A tough walk, almost entirely uphill, very steep and slippery. There were
chains to hold onto in one section. Scaling the rocky slopes, you'd fall to
your death if you leaned the wrong way. Damian hopped up like a mountain
goat. I couldn't keep up. I'm not nearly as fit as I thought I was. In
all, we did about 45 km of walking.

In Tullah, we stayed in a nice hostel right on a lake. We did some canoeing
and some mountain-biking along trails in the surrounding mountains. And due
to a booking mix-up, I had to take a single room with an ensuite bathroom
that is normally reserved for guides. Paradise.

The highlight of my trip was stopping at a wildlife farm for injured animals
and having a cuddle with Winston the wombat. It was the first time I had
ever seen a wombat. I held him like a baby, scratched his tummy, and he
went to sleep in my arms. They are definitely the cutest animals I've ever
seen.

On the last day, we went to Marakoopa caves for some spelunking. It's the
largest public cave in Australia, filled with stalactites and stalagmites.
It was discovered in 1903. It took the white man 100 years to discover what the
Aborigines never discovered in 60,000 years.

Our cave guide was pretty lousy. She unenthusiastically pulled switches on
the light boxes as we walked and used her flashlight to point out formations
that looked like a clown in full dress, a tuning fork, Jesus, an emu, and
Winston Churchill's ashtray. Hanging out with Damian made me wonder how
much of the cave was destroyed by the construction of the concrete path we
were walking on the the elaborate lighting fixtures around all of the
formations.

The cave is filled with glow worms, and we learned a thing or two about
them. They only live for 36 hours, and the glowing is caused by their
excretory organs burning shit. When they change from worms into flies, they
don't have mouths. Only the female flies glow, and their only mission is to
screw before they die.

The weather while I was down there couldn't have been better. It was
unseasonably sunny, clear, and warm. Even Damian couldn't believe it. And
the day I left it got cloudy and started to rain. It never works out that
way for me.

And our group was fantastic, too. Martin, who looks like a short, blond Tim
Robbins, was a strange one. He would always talk loud, always about sex.
He would fart on people. We thought he was on drugs. Damian said that when
God was giving out brains, Martin thought it was milkshakes so he asked for
a thick one. But he turned out to be a really funny guy. We never figured
out if he was trying to be funny or if he was just naturally goofy, but he
made everyone laugh. He smelled like ass the whole time, but we learned to
enjoy him from a distance. On the last day, Martin taught me some more
Dutch:

neuken op de keukentafel - fucking on the kitchen table
aftrekken - wanking
Wil je my aftrekken? - Do you want to wank me?
Jij bent leujk maar je hebt een goede persoonlijkheid. - You are ugly, but
you have a nice personality.

All the annoying American girls got off in Hobart, and some older people got
on for the second part of the trip. One of the guys, Tom, was English and
hard to understand. He looked a lot like Grimm, a strange guy I used to
work with at the camera store. Tall, skinny. Long, braided,
salt-and-pepper hair. Long beard. And the man could fart like no one I've
ever met. We all got along so well that on the last night, we had a farting
competition. One point for each fart, first one to ten wins. If there was
any doubt, Martin would perform a sniff test. Hitting mud was automatic
disqualification. Tom ran away with it.

It seems to me that in order to have a great trip, you need to have great
scenery, a great driver, and a great group. We had all that. Not only
that, but Damian played a lot of U2 tapes while we rode in the bus. It was
cool hearing Van Diemen's Land while I was actually there.

At the end of the trip, I didn't want to leave. Damian told me that I
should come back sometime so that we could hang out and explore the
wilderness of Tasmania on our own. I told him that I'd return to film a
movie down there.

On the day I left, Damian dropped off everyone on the bus at a scenic gorge
and took me out for some coffee and breakfast. Kim drove me to the airport
and I was back in Melbourne an hour later.

Tomorrow I fly to Perth.

No Regrets.

Jeff