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Published: October 14th 2007
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Safe Harbour
Storm's a comin' Hello again!
Not going to waste much time with intro's. Kangaroo Valley.
So, here it is:
The morning I left for Kangaroo Valley, to do some volunteer work, I had a mission to complete. Still going off the previous night's energy (which I thought I'd depleted at the school's SAM Bar (Yes, our school not only has a bar, but they host events every Thursday night for 'happy hour')), I grabbed my longboard and made a mad dash to the Macquarie University Centre (the mall) to buy a sleeping bag. Pouring sweat, and with my eye on the clock, I thought for sure the bus would leave without me. When I made it back to the MUV at 8:00am, my group was sitting around piles of backpacks, sleepingbags and pillows. Our van was 45 minutes late. This was going to be an interesting weekend.
Jen, our lighthearted Aussie guide, finally picked us up and escorted the lot of us out to the middle of nowhere. Let me be more specific: the most beautiful middle of nowhere I had ever been to (at this point). We traversed a up and down a large mountain and descended into Kangaroo Valley
around noon. Being Friday, we knew we had a day's work to catch up on. Jen walked us around the camp grounds (a couple of scattered cottages surrounding a larger A-framed house that consisted of a kitchen, mens and womens bathrooms, a game room, reading room, and mess hall). We met one of the more permanent residents of the compound, who informed us of two things: that we'd be eating very well and that we'd be doing a lot of work.
At this point I was a bit apprehensive about the other members of my group. Although I was lucky to have a friend with me, we were surrounded by 8 other kids who not only lacked a cultured background, but seemed to be averse to building one. After our brief orientation, one of the girls opened up the lunch cooler and began serving herself a hefty plate of ham. A volunteer from another group - a weird American guy sporting a long duster and an Indiana-Jones wannabe hat with a feather tucked in it - shot us looks of disgust and disbelief. I shared the same anxiety.
Luckily, feeding the group was quick because they were soon
Be Careful
My nose looks huge, I know. handing us tool belts with gardener shovels, hoes, and knives. As if that wasn't enough to sport in the wilderness, they had us sport bright yellow neon work vests.
We walked along a dusted trail and learned some history about a fellow that used to live in the valley with his family and three kids. Their whole house was the size of the dorm they'd shacked me up in at the MUV! We continued along the path until we were told to stop and begin our work. Being in a conservation area, we were each given a large burlap bag and told to fill it with weeds. Dad, you would have been proud, I don't think I've pulled that many weeds in my entire life (and hope I never have to again!). Surrounded by wombat holes, we were anxious to see some wild life. At one point a kangaroo whizzed through the shadows of the forest and scared us half to death.
The woods out here are a funny thing. Back in Colorado, even in the Catskills in New York, you have a lurking fear of bears, snakes and mountain lions. Kangaroo Valley was child's play. Their most
dangerous predator was lack of rainfall. Still, we did see some fuzzy wombats, possums, bandicoots.... that sort of thing.
After our first day's weeding, we slowly paced back to the campground. Out on the paddock (a small field) near the compound, we watched the sunset behind the valley walls as a few dozen wallabies and kangaroos quietly munched on their grassy dinners. It was spectacular. After a decent half-day's work we were rewarded tenfold by such an unforgettable sight.
Our dinner was a bit better than our marsupial friends- we ate enough to feed a Greenpeace army.
Day Two: Jen woke us up early to make sure we were fed (I've grown accustom to a vegemite toast brekkie), and soon piled us into the van. We left the valley for the day and worked for (no joke) 45 minutes setting up plastic barriers around growing trees. She thought it was going to take us all day to complete the task, but with literally hours to kill, Jen didn't mind driving us to the nearby "7-Mile Beach."
We walked along the sandy shore and stuck our feet in the freezing wintery Pacific. Most of the group went
off and collected shells - since the beach was teeming with gorgeous ones - but I was in complete awe of how far the beach stretched on for. Not to mention, I couldn't help wondering, in a world that functions on the metric system, why name a National Park "7-Mile Beach?" That was mind boggling.
Becoming increasingly irritated by the rude and boring individuals in our group, my friend Ben and I went headlong to the local pub once we stopped in the town of Berry. The rest of our group could be heard gawking up and down the road about 'how Australian everything was.' Not my crowd.
Seated adjacent to our outdoor table was a group of three girls that were still at the top of their pints. I struck up conversation with one of them, and they were quick about inviting us to their table. After a few rounds of Carlton Draught we had all become relatively acquainted. They were draped in gucci sunglasses and designer clothes, but I didn't care, so long as they were nice and un-American. We hung out with them for a little while and had a great afternoon in the small town of Berry. Just before we all went our seperate ways, we stopped off at "Berry Bon-bons" - a local candy store - and loaded up on sweets. It was novel!
That night we all ate well and I sank into Robert Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - suitable for the journey I was embarking on - and I ended up playing Scrabble against a bunch of volunteers from another group (made up mostly of English and Chinese people). I must have been 'on' because I won by a landslide. Still, it was nice to meet foreign people and hear about their adventures.
Day 3: Jen woke us up early again to get more grunt work out of the way, and I remember feeling a bit sad about having to leave the valley. First, we formed a sort of 'congo-line' - armed with rakes and steelbrushed brooms - and cleared a 3 kilometre trail. THAT was some hardwork. We were handsomely rewarded with both breakfast and certificates establishing a 'job-well-done' for the Conservation Volunteers of Australia. I spoke to the compound manager about coming back in the future to volunteer, so hopefully I'll be able to do that before my time is up.
Before we headed back to the dreadful Macquarie University Village, Jen was gracious enough to stop off at a few worthwhile sights. Fitzroy Falls National Park was unbelievable. We walked along trails that peaked out across seemingly endless forests and waterfalls. I felt like I'd been transported back a few million years! The museum giftshop didn't have anything very interesting, although I snapped plenty photos.
When we returned to the MUV I was pretty sad. Kangaroo Valley, surrounded by national parks, beaches, and hundreds of miles of untouched land, seemed like a dream compared to the monotony of this sterile atmosphere. Still though, I looked ahead and grew more and more anxious about my upcoming adventures.
The following weekend: Wollongong.
Stay tuned!
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Celin
non-member comment
so exciting!
Hey Colin, I was so glad when I got your first few blog e-mails. I am very jealous of all the new things you are seeing and doing. Your classes down there sound like some of mine at school. Now I know who to go to when I want to head down there. What exactly is vegimite and what does it taste like? I heard it was really popular, but didn't taste that great, but I have never tried it. Also are these trips you are writing about part of the program or are you doing them on your own? Keep the updates coming and post as many pics as you can. Can't wait for some more fun stories!- Celin