A bit of a snake problem

We went to Australia because of math and weather. The math: our visas ran out in Bali and it was too early to go to France due to the particulars of the Schengen region. The weather: after spending nearly all of April in Bali, we were hot. (I think I might have mentioned that before.) In the before times, we dreamed of visiting Japan and New Zealand. But Japan opens June 1 and New Zealand remains closed through July. So there we were, straddling the border of Asia and Oceania, with a two-week window that could not be filled by Japan or New Zealand. And did I mention, hot? Meteorologically and mathematically we had just one option: Australia.

We chose to see Australia via our second-string family standby, the long road trip, punctuated by our MVP family standby, the backpacking trip. After landing in Sydney, we drove south through New South Wales to Victoria via the Grand Pacific Drive, then ferried across Port Philip near Melbourne to the Great Ocean Road which we followed as far as the Twelve Apostles before turning northeast and cutting up through Victoria to the Australian Alps and finally back to Sydney. In all, we drove more than 2000 kilometers and just barely skimmed the bottom right corner of the country. Australia is astonishingly huge.

Coming from California, Australia feels simultaneously familiar and foreign. For one thing, it’s comforting to hear everyone speaking English despite their charming accents and ludicrous idioms. And things more or less work the same in Australia as they do at home. You can wander wherever and feel confident you know what’s going on, what’s likely to happen next and what’s probably expected of you. At this point in our year, this homeyness is welcome.

Australians love putting signs everywhere about everything

But Australia does have some element of strangeness too. For one thing, it’s spotlessly clean which is weird enough coming from America but weirder still after, erm, every other place we’ve visited (except Ireland and Rwanda). Next, Australia has a palpable feeling of social and economic fairness which may be strange but after you get used to the (not unrelated) high cost for services, is also lovely. (Also related, crime is low and not one person mentioned safety as a concern during our time in Australia.) But of course the strangest thing about Australia is its flora and fauna, the result of eons of biological isolation. Plants and animals are flat out bonkers in Australia.

Primordial rain forest with amazing tree ferns

For our backpacking, we chose Wilson’s Promontory National Park on a bit of a whim; Australia (again: HUGE) has an overwhelming number of national parks, all of which, from the remove of the internet, appear spectacular. Having not see all the ones we didn’t visit, I can’t say for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that Wilson’s Prom is the best. We easily were able to secure a reservation for wild camping just a few days in advance of our trip, entrance to the park was free and camping was just A$7 per person, the park was freakishly well-signed and the ranger cracked jokes as we registered.

We hiked in eight easy miles, much of which was along a well-maintained boardwalk, to find a comfortable camp just a few meters from a stunning and entirely empty white sand beach.

The beach at Little Waterloo Bay, adjacent to our campsite

Our campsite also included friendly Australians who shared our camp table, bursting with good cheer and colorful stories, as apparently all Australians are. Wasting no time, we got right to the heart of it. “Why,” Brian asked, “does everything in Australia want to kill you?” Our new Australian friends objected straight away to this characterization.

“The risks are overstated,” Kelvin said, frowning.

“Hardly anyone dies of shark bites, or jelly stings, or crocodile attacks,” Liv said. “It’s SO exaggerated.”

“Besides,” Louis went on, crossing his arms across his chest, “what about bears? What about cougars? American has all those large mammals. No thank you.”

“But but but snakes?” Sam countered. “All ten of the world’s ten deadliest snakes live in Australia.”

There was a pause while our friends considered in silence, bobbing their heads philosophically.

“Oh yes. Well. We do have a bit of a snake problem,” Louis admitted finally. And then the three of them proceeded to spend the next, oh, 45 minutes regaling us with deadly snake stories. Snakes at the worksite. Snakes around their houses. Snakes IN their houses. Killing snakes with shovels. Killing snakes with wheelbarrows. And the undisputed coup de grace: killing snakes by holding them by the tail and whipping them around so fast, their heads pop off. A bit of a snake problem, they said. I’ll say!

Birds in Australia are astonishingly beautiful. They also sound completely different from birds at home, which was a treat every morning

It was with these stories ringing in our ears that we hiked back out the following day. Part way along the trail, as we were tromping along enjoying the sunshine and the view and the adorable cubes of wombat poop, two women coming in the opposite direction stopped us to say they had just seen a common brown snake on the trail. Sounds harmless, right? It’s not. Super deadly. As in, the second deadliest in the world. The women went on to describe the location of this snake in almost tedious detail: 400 meters along the track, where it transitions from red dirt to sand, on the left hand side, on and on. Our eyes glazed over a tiny bit. But are you getting this? This is a deadly snake and these women were for sure taking it seriously. Sufficiently warned, we continued on our way, Brian in front of our little hiking line, thinking he would be likeliest to scout the snake. After a half kilometer or so, and still no snake, we figured it had slithered back into the bush and we resumed our usual hiking order with Joe out front, setting our pace. And then, I saw the snake. Not gonna lie, I screamed, even though it was a very unassuming snake, small and brown, no distinct markings and no helpful rattly hello like snakes at home. This particular common brown snake was eating a lizard. Seemed like he was pretty well occupied at present and unlikely to bite us; still, after snapping a few pictures and declining Joe’s offer to swing the snake around his head in an attempt to pop off its head, we hurried along the trail.

Common brown snake, eating a lizard. Move along!

This is what looking for koalas looks like

Sam also found two leeches under his pant leg that same day

My last animal story about Australia is by far my favorite and I am sincerely sad I don’t have a video to share. As we drove north from Melbourne, we skimmed along a two lane road that wound through the foothills, up and up. The day we were there, it was raining and cool, a few degrees above freezing. As we drove, lulled by the dreamy drizzle and lovely scenery, we were all startled to attention by a legit mob of kangaroos, about six or seven of them, hopping urgently from the sloped shoulder and down into the center of the narrow road. Brian braked immediately and we stopped cold on the road. What happened next is difficult to convey with words but the mob of kangaroos proceeded to hop frantically away from the car. When they tried to veer in either direction, they slipped on the wet tarmac and fell down, then scrambled up and continued hopping. Back and forth, left and right, up and down. We laughed so hard. So hard, in fact, that even though Brian tried to shoot a video through the windshield, he was laughing and shaking and unable to push the button. Traffic showed up from the oncoming direction, also stopping to watch the festivities. Finally the kangaroo mob managed to remain upright enough to hop back off the road and up the shoulder and disappear into the bush. But we didn’t stop laughing for several minutes and in fact even now, all I have to say is kangaroos! !FALLING DOWN! and Joe dissolves in giggles. And frankly, so do I.

Thanks for the laughs, Australia.

A bit of a snake problem

What we spent: Australia

Tide pooling in Bali