Posts Tagged With: camping

10 Weird and Wonderful Things about Saltspring

Normally this time of year finds us on the deck of a B&B on heavenly Saltspring Island, sipping wine and watching the sunset over Vesuvius Bay, a mere 20-minute ferry ride from Vancouver Island. Regrettably, we had to forgo our annual jaunt this summer for many reasons, the biggest one being that we need to save vacation days for Bali (three weeks!) in the fall. C’est la vie. Summer in the city ain’t so bad.

Saltspring is artist’s haven nestled within the southern Gulf Islands, about halfway between Nanaimo and Victoria, the capital city of British Columbia (and our home). As noted on the official Saltspring website,”there are over ten thousand human residents on Salt Spring Island, several thousand sheep and a sizeable deer population.” That pretty much sums it up.

With its close proximity to Victoria, Saltspring makes a great scenic getaway. (A perfect little day trip, too, if you’re so inclined.) We’ve been going there together for years, starting with the summer we got engaged on the island’s ocean-side campground (more about that shortly).

So, I’m going to tell you about some of the Saltspring things we’ll be missing this year, including the brilliant weirdness it has to offer.

1. Ruckle Park
The camping here is breathtaking. Picture a wide-open field perched on top of a cliff, where you can sit back and watch the sailboats, ferries, and big ships go by. Walk along the rocky beach below, feeling the hot stones on your feet as you explore the tidal pools teeming with starfish and crab. The first time I camped here, I fell in love with it. The next time was with my true love, complete with a proposal setting of sea, stars, and a bottle of Wolf Blass Black Label.

2. Saturday Hippie Market
Famous for its patchouli-scented weirdness, this weekly seasonal market offers everything from dog treats to homemade jams and jellies, colourful pottery, hemp clothing, jewlery, and, uh, ‘rarities’ like utensil wind chimes. You can sample local island delicacies such as chocolate and goat cheeses, all while perusing fresh local produce and to-die-for-breads. Watch for six-year-olds playing the violin – or autoharp, or recorder, or whatever – right in the middle of it all.

3. Wineries
There are several wineries on the island, our faves being Garry Oaks and a relatively new one called Mistaken Identity. Garry Oaks is known for its Fetish, a tasty blend of Merlot and Cabernet Franc. Take a stroll through the lush vineyards at either one – you can practically pluck the grapes off the vine yourself. But don’t – think of the wine!

4. A Mix of Hippie Cool and Upscale Eateries. And Just Plain, Good-old Seaside Eats.
I can’t say enough about SSI’s choice of resos. It’s got upscale European, such as the English tudor-style Hastings House and House Piccolo, tried-and-true Moby’s Pub overlooking the marina, and the local favourite Seaside Kitchen. On the latter, you almost have to be local to find the entrance and the washrooms (watch out that someone from the kitchen doesn’t walk in on you!). It’s also got the best view of ferry-watching that side of the island.

Hands-down, our casual fave is the Tree House Cafe – a funky, outdoor establishment framed by – you guessed it – trees. It’s kinda like dining à la Swiss Family Robinson. This gem of a place offers big and bold breakfasts complete with thick multigrain toast and homemade berry jam. It’s the perfect setting for a hangover-style brunch, or for evening drinks with live folk music as accompaniment. Also a prime spot for people watching: one time we witnessed a guy getting pooped on by the many little birdies inhabiting the trees.

5. Hidden Watering Holes
It seems there’s one around every corner of the island. Whenever we camped on Ruckle, we would stop by a particular one en route to the Fulford ferry terminal to cool off (it’s always sunny on Saltspring – I think it’s almost an island “rule”). Locals and tourists alike swarm this tiny beach, stretching their towels on every bit of available sand. The lake is not too cold, not too deep – just right with a small dock that’s perfect for sunbathing when you just can’t stand the dogs anymore. As long as you don’t mind the kids diving off and splashing everywhere about every five minutes, that is.

One early trip we stumbled upon what we fondly nicknamed “Bits and Bites Bongo Beach” – a long, narrow, tree-lined path opened up to reveal dreadlocked bongo players and, well, hirsute women. Did I mentioned they’re naked?

Above all though, the warmest swimming beach on the island is Vesuvius Bay. I swear we see the same old leathery guy swimming laps in the ocean back and forth every time we stay there.

6. Pixie Pies – and Other Random Roadside Stands
Dotted all over the island are roadside stands with a variety of offerings via the honour system: produce, flowers, lemonade, jams, cookies, and pies. The first time I saw this little cupboard containing the mini-est of pies, I was charmed – but I didn’t have any change. Every time I’ve gone back – armed with coins – the box has been empty. Those pixies are a fickle lot. So, while I’ve thus far never got to try a Pixie Pie, this image will stay with me forever.

7. Long & Winding Roads…
And lots of hills. Saltspring is a perfect setting to learn how to drive a standard (I just had to sneak a pic of the car in there). Imagine the bottom of a very steep hill, my foot on the gas and popping the clutch. A squeal of tires and I was off. We laughed until we cried (and I tried not to wet myself in the process).

8. Famous Local Residents
Saltspring is a home to such celebs as BTO’s Randy Bachman and the artist Robert Bateman, both of whom have residences there. I’ve never seen either of them – then again, that may be the point.

9. The Seafood and the Sea
You can’t beat prawns caught fresh off the boat. Or smoked salmon and crab cakes from a funny little fisherman’s hut called The Fishery, just north of the main town, Ganges. All amazing paired with a glass of cold Pinot Gris on the deck overlooking Ganges Harbour, or the wide-open ocean off Ruckle Park, Fernwood, or Vesuvius Bay.

10. That Laid-back, Small Town Feel
What I love most about Saltspring, though, is the people. They all seem to support each other: such as the local cheese factory displaying their culinary delights on another local artist’s ceramic dish. Best of all, even as a tourist, they remember you (hard not to when we keep coming back every year, I suppose). Case in point: every time we go to market, we stop by our favourite pottery stand to say hi to Annie. One time we picked out some dishes and then shopped around while she wrapped it up. It was only when we got back to Victoria and unwrapped the goods did we notice that she snuck in an extra little nut bowl with a note saying “Happy 4th Anniversary.” Then there was the time when Dan, our B&B host and a captain on the ferry that runs from Vesuvius to Crofton, greeted us over the boat’s loudspeaker with “Welcome back, Cam and Shari” while we were sunning on the B&B deck. Now that’s what I call the personal touch.

– S

Categories: Beach, British Columbia, Dining, Gulf Islands, Sunset, Travel | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

Outback Odyssey, Part 3

The final chapter in our jaunt through the Australian Outback. If you need to catch up, check out:

Outback Odyssey, Part 1

Outback Odyssey, Part 2

Once more we wake to pre-dawn pot banging (I am eternally thankful that this is the last time) to see the sun rise over Kings Canyon and begin our hike before it reaches 1,000 degrees (apparently 850 is a tolerable hiking temperature). A steep 500-step climb helpfully nicknamed “Heart Attack Hill” kicks off the Kings Canyon Rim Walk, a six kilometre loop that takes approximately three to four hours. Cam and I lead the way, our good buddy Argentina not too far behind us, practically running, scattering rocks and dirt in his wake. I don’t know – maybe he doesn’t get hangovers… or maybe he’s still drunk.

Once at the top, we admire the expansive view. Then, bored of waiting for the rest of the group to catch up, some of the more adventurous and restless souls (this of course includes Argentina) decide to press on, ignoring Kyle’s instructions that hike as a group. We figure we wouldn’t go too far; just enough to see what’s ahead. The path is well-marked and the terrain not even remotely treacherous. Off we go for about 10 minutes or so before we hear some frantic shouting in the distance. We stop just in time to see a breathless Kyle run up to us, looking shaken and disheveled. Once he catches his breath, he gives us an earful about how important it is to stay as a group, as it’s easy to get lost if you don’t know what you’re doing (we didn’t really), or where you’re going (ditto to that). Sufficiently chastised, we hang our heads and wait for the others to join us. Under Kyle’s watchful eye, we carry on, marvelling at the terrain with its red and gold rocky outcrops and weathered stone, all set against a stunning backdrop of clear blue sky.

As the temperature begins to rise, we welcome a descent into a sheltered valley surrounded by bonsai-style and ghost gum trees until we reach the Garden of Eden.

This Eden also contains a natural spring waterhole. Out of all of us, only Argentina and I decide to brave the water (a young Irish couple in our group didn’t even know how to swim – not too unusual, considering a ‘hot’ day where they’re from is something like 19 degrees Celsius). We both jump in, Argentina practically somersaulting, landing in the water with a thunderous splash. I swim, revelling in this cool and refreshing escape from the heat and dust of the canyon. However, we soon discover that getting in the water is a heck of a lot easier than getting out, thanks to a nice slick coat of green slime covering the rock we used as a launching pad. To add insult to injury, not too many people were eager to help us back up; Cam being the only one to take mercy on us. Even then, thanks to a severe lack of foot grip, manoeuvering up the slime without sliding back in proved quite challenging. (In Argentina’s case, it was more than highly amusing, as he slid along, falling backwards into the water several times before succeeding.)

After this frolicking of sorts, we climb back up out of the valley and quickly find ourselves gazing upon several dome-shaped formations resembling giant beehives, formed by the erosion of joint bound sandstone. Fittingly, the place is nicknamed “The Lost City.”

We then proceed to go around the ridge to face a severely eroded cliff, the result of a massive rock slide about 70 years ago. The story goes that it literally disappeared right in front of someone’s eyes as they were taking pictures from the other side. Kyle then invites us to lay on our bellies at the over 100 meter-high cliff’s edge and look down. There we lay: all 15 or so of us, lined up in a row on the very edge, with this as our direct view across:

Indeed, the effects were dizzying. The faint-of-heart need not apply.

Tearing ourselves away from this spectacle, we make our way back along the trail’s loop, Argentina in the lead and scrambling all over the place (this time down the rock instead of up). We enter the parking lot to discover none other than an enormous King Brown snake waiting for us – fortunately, it was dead. Kyle expertly picks it up, and after making the identification, proceeds to inform us that said reptile is the second longest snake in Australia, and one of the most venomous in the world. I think one of the Danes almost fainted. Put it this way: if you happened to stumble upon it while it was still living, it would not be your friend. Our timing was undoubtedly perfect.

Somewhat unsettled with this sensory overload, we all enthusiastically pile back into the bus and sputter across the lot to the long and winding road back to where most of us started – Alice Springs. I take in the landscape, experiencing a sad, almost yearning feeling for a place that I will probably never see again in my lifetime. Although I definitely won’t miss the black flies.

Finally, we’re at the outskirts of Alice, en route to our hotels, signalling the end of the tour. And then, out of nowhere, we spot a couple of familiar looking chaps walking along the side of the road. Kyle asks, “Does anyone know who these guys are?” Cam and I perk up and instantly reply: “Mormons!” Looking exactly the same as they do in North America: black pants, white shirt with suspenders. The only difference? Camel packs full of water. A fitting end to a rather Biblical day. Still wish I’d seen a Thorny Devil, though.

– S

Categories: Adventure, Australia, Travel, Unglamorous | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Outback Odyssey, Part 2

Featured photo: the George Gill Range, home to Kings Canyon

For the first part of this story, click here.

A Chuggin’-Long Journey
After the 9.5 kilometre hike around Ayers Rock, we pile back into the bus and head back to our campsite to pack up our things and get ready for the three-and-a-half hour journey to Kings Canyon in Watarrka National Park. The warm desert morning has turned into full-blown inferno at this point, so down go all the bus windows as we chug along the long, narrow road through the desert, with the West MacDonnell Ranges guiding our way.

Much to the dismay of Argentina (our South American companion), drinking beer is not allowed on the minibus. I suspect booze is taking up most of the room in his backpack; if I had to guess its contents, I’d say there’s a couple of shirts, some underwear, shorts, and a flat of Victoria Bitter. What else does one need in the desert, really? Well, water – trust me on that one.

So it goes that when we stop for a bathroom break at some Godforsaken deserted desert ‘truck stop’, Argentina wastes no time jumping off and cracking open one of those beers. He doesn’t even bother to swat away the flies as he proceeds to chug-a-lug the warm beer, foam dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. He then pulls out a second can and quickly makes it disappear. I’m pretty impressed – and I’ve witnessed some serious chugging contests involving Canadians twice as large as our new South American amigo. Belching loudly, Argentina tries to board the bus with the open beer can, but our guide Kyle yells, “Keep it outside!” Much to everyone’s amusement, Argentina is forced back outside to finish the last of his beer. Good, solid desert entertainment.

I Repeat, There Are No Camels
As we approach our destination, Kyle tells us about all the great things to do there, including the six kilometre Kings Canyon Rim walk that we’ll be doing in the morning. There’s apparently kangaroo-spotting, camel rides, ATVing, and even a helicopter tour over the breathtaking George Gill Range. We arrive, and after a brief chat with the ranger, Kyle informs the group that in fact there are no camel rides available that day. We unload the bus, and once everyone is settled, we’ve got nothing but time to kill. Kyle asks if we want to take advantage of any of the activities he mentioned earlier. Without missing a beat, Argentina answers, “I would like to book one camel ride.” Perhaps it was a language barrier thing (or beer-ears). In any case, Kyle patiently explains again that, no, there are no camels.

Meanwhile, Cam and I head over to the helicopter. After some discussion with the helicopter dudes (and after throwing a bag of cash at them), we’re shortly swept up into the air on an amazing and personal tour of the canyon and range. We spot wild horses, running like, well, wild horses, and – what’s that down there? Yup, camels – so that’s where they’ve gone. It turns out to be a great bird’s-eye preview of the hike we’ll be taking the next day.

An exhilarating half-hour later, we make our way back to the campsite, stopping at the one and only store for some essentials (a nice cold bottle of water being one of them). On the store’s shady porch is none other than Argentina, seated before a majestic pyramid of empty VB cans. Not bad for 40 minutes’ work, really. Apparently this was his Plan B when the camel ride didn’t work out. We laugh and give him a hearty slap on the back, and he lifts his last can up in a cheery salute and hiccups. (Mental note: go to Argentina.)

Firewood & Folly
After our return, Kyle tells us it’s time to gather firewood for a bonfire. “Bonfire?” we ask, incredulous. It’s blisteringly hot already – it’s Mars in summer with heat-lamps on Scald. But, Kyle explains that he’ll use the fire to cook a special traditional bread called damper, for our last night’s dinner. An Australian unleavened bread, damper is baked by placing the dough in an iron pot and burying it in hot coals. How do you get coals? Well, starting a bonfire works. So, off we go to some remote (well, even more remote) part of the park and grudgingly start gathering bits and pieces of wood, twigs and bramble. This is pretty much the last thing we feel like doing, as the more we tie up our hands with wood, the less we’re able to defend ourselves against the relentless flies. Why, oh why, didn’t we get one of those stupid net-hats?

As we stomp around sun-blinded and miserable, Cam slices open one of his toes on a bone-dry branch. Out gushes unreasonable quantities of blood. Bandaids? I don’t think so. I try to help, but Cam’s pride gets in the way, despite the fact that bright red liquid is pouring over his sandal – at least it’s sort of cleaning off the 10 layers of red dust and grime. Thing is, the blood attracts even more flies. Someone then produces a weathered bandage that succeeds in staunching the flow for about 90 seconds. Finally, I draw Kyle’s attention to the Toe of A Thousand Droplets, and he quickly retrieves an actual first-aid kit from the bus and we treat and dress the wound. It’s a good excuse to let all those Brits and Danes see to the firewood gathering – we Canadians gave you maple syrup and decent bacon, so …

Angel at My Plate
Back at the campsite, we screw around, swim in the no-bigger-than-a-hot tub-pool (and as warm as one), and nap while Kyle prepares this mysterious dish, served with spicy chicken also cooked over coals. We devour the delicious meal, basking in the fire and the camaraderie of the group. Argentina continues to drink while Cam and I discuss with an Irish couple how he’s going to fare in the morning. Did I mention that we have to be at the trailhead before dawn? And, that’s the easy part: three or four sun-soaked hours of hiking will follow that bleary-eyed mustering.

As part of campsite life, we are expected to clean up after ourselves, which translates into doing our own dishes and so on. At the sink, I strike up a conversation with Argentina’s companion, a young Spanish woman. We chat amiably about where we’re from and the cities I’ve visited in Spain. I then nod in the direction of Argentina and ask, “What’s his deal? Are you guys together?” Aghast, she looks at me and practically shouts, “No way! We’re just studying together at the university in Brisbane. We thought this would be a fun thing to do on break.” And then she rolls her eyes, like she regrets having him along. We both laugh and I turn around, almost bumping into the Latin legend himself. Argentina stands solemnly behind me, dishes in hand, with a look on his face so miserable you would’ve thought he’s next in line for the guillotine. Apparently the party’s over.

Sensing his misery, I take pity on him and hold out my hand to take his plate and cup. Surprised, he comes to life, and wide-eyed, hands them over without hesitation. “You are an ANGEL!” he exclaims in his thick accent, putting his hands together in prayer and bowing before me. I laugh again at his theatrical display and turn back to the sink, my act of kindness done for the day.

Stay tuned for Part 3: hiking up “Heart Attack Hill”, hanging over a cliff’s edge, swimming in the “Garden of Eden”, an encounter with a deadly snake, and, naturally…Mormons. A rather Biblical day all around.

– S
Categories: Adventure, Australia, Travel | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Outback Odyssey, Part 1

One of the best and most memorable adventures I’ve ever had traveling was to the Australian Outback. The itinerary for our three-week jaunt down under offered some varied places to stay: a jungle hideaway in Byron Bay, a luxurious 5-star beach club on Hamilton Island, and a quaint boutique hotel in Sydney. To further add to the mix, I booked us on a 3-day backpacking camping tour through the Australian desert: day trip to the Olgas, camping in the Kata Tjuta wilderness park that hosts Uluru (aboriginal name for Ayers Rock), and finishing with a three-and-a-half hour hike through famous Kings Canyon. We figured since we were flying halfway across the world, we might as well go somewhere we would likely never go again in our lifetime.

Since this post could go on for quite a while, I’m going to take mercy on you and separate it out a little. Enter Outback Odyssey Part 1: The Olgas and Ayers Rock.

Approaching the Olgas

The adventure begins when we land in the tiny Ayers Rock airport, straight from the lovely cosmopolitan town of Alice Springs (no facetiousness there, really – it’s the bloody Paris of the Outback). As soon as we land, the heat smacks me in the face, full-on. It’s I-just-landed-on-Mars hot. Hotter than Melbourne. Hotter-than-the hoary-hobs-of-hell, as Cam and I like to often joke. Pure, unadulterated, 45-something-degree-dry desert heat.

We settle in to wait for our tour company to pick us up. A long time later, bored out of our minds in the tiny confines of the airport, we decide to brave the heat and go outside. There’s nothing out here besides the bare, unforgiving desert, red sand, the blazing sun, and a few taxis. Not much better, but at least it’s different.

We continue to watch the minutes tick by, with only the scrubby flora and the eerie silence to keep us company. Thinking we were going to be forever stuck counting shrubs and trying to wrestle a water bottle out from the broken vending machine, something happens. Actually, a few things happen, and in typical fashion, all at once. The airport gates open up, unleashing the next crowd of arrivals; the taxis come to life; and lo-and-behold, our tour bus appears, chugging, spitting and backfiring across the lot. Cam immediately snaps to attention, wrangling our bags.

Then, so close to me that I almost miss it, a giant red lizard casually crosses the parking lot. I’m not talking about some small commonplace gecko type, or even an iguana. This thing is huge; like Great Dane huge. And it’s not slithering along the pavement, either; instead, it’s walking on all fours. As my brain struggles to catch up with what I’m seeing, the bus pulls up, blocking my view, and I try in vain to catch another glimpse. But as fast as it came, it disappears, amazingly agile for such a large creature. This pic is pretty close to what I saw, camouflaging itself to blend in with the red sand desert:

Of course, being busy flagging down the bus and all, Cam completely misses it. So, I tell him that he’ll have to trust the that I’m not exaggerating (for once), and yes, it was as tall as a Smart Car. He’s dubious. However, I’m later vindicated when, en route, we stop for lunch at a place which happily is right beside a museum with dioramas with Outback flora and fauna.

It’s here where I learn what the small dinosaur I thought I saw (and find proof that I wasn’t completely losing it) is a Perentie, (you gotta watch this video), the largest lizard in Australia. I point out this awesome fact with pride. It’s my first Aussie freakshow animal wonder, the first of many to come. (Think: giant poisonous snakes, king toads, and plate-sized spiders. It’s true what they say: Australia is trying to kill you.)

Back at the airport, I am suddenly fueled with adrenaline as I help Cam throw our bags on the bus. After brief introductions, we find the only two remaining seats, one of which is right beside our guide and driver: Aussie born-and-bred Kyle, a young, amiable fellow, who looks like he walked straight out of Crocodile Dundee. Our small group consists of a smattering of Europeans, including a British family of Mom, Dad, daughter and son-in-law, a couple of Danes (natch), a young Spanish woman and her companion: a young Argentine fellow whose name we instantly forget, but upon whom we bestow the nickname “Argentina”. I have an instinct that this guy will no doubt be a constant source of entertainment for the rest of the trip, and sure enough, he doesn’t disappoint.

Olgas: up close and personal

Off we go to the Olgas, a group of large domed rock formations in the middle of the desert, a place where many spiritual ceremonies are performed. As we all clamber out of the bus and start making our way to the rock trail, we quickly notice a lot of tourists wearing funny hats with a mesh net draped across the front. How ridiculous, we think, sniggering to ourselves. It doesn’t take long before we realize why they are wearing them. Within minutes, we’re swarmed by black flies, who, attracted to sweat and the liquid protecting your eyes, literally cling to you. It’s a good thing it wasn’t more than 517 degrees out.

We then join the ranks of those who were stupid enough not to have purchased a ridiculous hat, and begin endless swatting motions, AKA the “Australian wave”. Let’s just say at that point, we would have paid $100 on the spot for one of those hats. The people wearing them certainly looked comfortable – well, in the sense that they were only melting rather than melting and being pestered to the point of insanity.

Next up is Ayers Rock for sunset, and a preview of what we’ll be hiking around the following day. Although we aren’t the cheapest tour group going; we’re not top-level luxo, either. Put it this way: when it comes time for the viewing, loads of massive air-conditioned coaches show up at the viewing spot and tourists spill out, quickly overrunning the place. They busy themselves with setting up lounge chairs and helping themselves to champagne, water crackers and brie; a supposedly perfect accompaniment to sunset over the rock. By contrast, we’re in a tiny lemon of a bus reminiscent of the 70s, the air conditioning being the windows, and chips, dip, and wine from a box at our disposal in case we get sunset-hungry. Chairs? I don’t think so. Turns out it didn’t matter; with a backdrop like Ayers Rock, you really didn’t need anything more. The sunset was, in a nutshell, out of this world (see above), just like the 10 million pictures you’ve already seen of this … rock.

Many oohs, ahhs and camera clicks later, it’s time to head back to our campsite in the pitch-black dark. When the sun goes down in the desert, that’s it; no lingering light, just complete, utter darkness. Definitely no streetlights. As we were the last people to be picked up (due to a scheduling error; don’t get me started), this is the first time Cam and I actually see our campsite.

Or not see, as was the case. Because we didn’t have the daytime advantage of the rest of the campers, things become quite tricky quite fast, especially since we can’t find our flashlight. I think it was at the bottom of our humongous backpack; the perfect place for it. We commence unpacking our gear in utter darkness, careful not to bump into a bilby, or God forbid, a Thorny Devil. As is the only sane thing to do, most Aussie outback animals tend to hide during the harsh heat of the day, coming out to forage at night. A comforting thought when you’re tiptoeing to the loo in the middle of the night with nothing but flip-flops on and armed with a roll of less-than-pointy paper.

A cool rock formation at Uluru

Pre-dawn arrives way too quickly. We rise to the sound of Kyle banging on a kitchen pot, our cue to move. Although slightly primitive, it definitely works, and I feel like I am 10 again, back at summer camp in BC’s interior. Rubbing our eyes, we trudge to the communal bathroom to wait in line with numerous other sleepy, crabby campers, brushing sand and picking dirt off their bodies. The line-up is out the door, and it’s survival of the fittest for a bathroom stall. As soon as I see a free one, I lunge. So does our good friend Argentina. Desperately having to pee means manners are out the window, so I swat him away and he grudgingly acquiesces. Machismo does come in handy sometimes, I think.

With less than 10 minutes to departure, there’s no time for modesty, let alone any kind of primping. All I can manage is to splash water on my face, run a brush across my teeth, check my clothes for spiders or other creepy-crawlies, and I’m done. The Fairmont, it ain’t, and that’s just fine with us.

Stay tuned for Part 2: Kings Canyon. For those of you who have seen Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, be warned that the only thing our experience has in common with the film is the geography.

– S

Categories: Adventure, Australia, Travel, Unglamorous | Tags: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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