Climbing a mountain
Trip Start
Nov 29, 2005
1
17
79
Trip End
Nov 21, 2006
Hobart, Australia
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Friday morning I was woke up early (and by "early" I mean earlier than I wanted to, goon had been heavily involved around the Pickled Frog the previous night) and coaxed to climb Mt. Wellington by a Belgian dude Ben and an English girl Rachel who I had made friends with the previous night over the course of several free games of pool (courtesy of Becky from Liverpool and a Q-tip, but that's a whole other story). The plan, as they had intended, was to meet in the lobby around 10 so we'd be out by 10:30. Like proper backpackers, we were promptly out the door by noon
Dumbest. Bus stop. Ever.
. By the time we left, our group had expanded to eight, including Becky and her recent traveling partner Aimee from London, Ziggy from Israel, Corinna from Berlin and Ralph, another German. (A quick side note -- every time I think Tasmania is pretty much normal and not as bad as the mainlanders say, something goes and screws it up. For example, Tasmanian bus stops face away from the street and are not transparent. I guess they're just born with a sixth sense for approaching buses. Either that or they're city planners were born with a lack of common sense). After a bus ride in which the locals did everything to try and scare the living daylights out of us about the climb, we were at the base of the mountain, ready to tackle the raging elements, brutal terrain, man-eating ogres and all the other perils we'd been warned about. The walk started with a path through the forest that was way too flat if you're planning on scaling a mountain. After about a half an hour of walking we reached the entrance to the Zig-Zag Track, which is the shortcut to the summit, because as you might gather from the name, it zig zags sharply up the mountain. After only an hour of walking (the sign said it would take an hour and a half) we were at the top. It wasn't as if we rushed either, we took plenty of opportunities to rest, take pictures and just enjoy the excellent views of the city. And wouldn't you know it, the girls in the group kept pace the whole way, proving that it is in fact possible
Aimee and Rachel take a break
. The summit was just as cold and windy as I remembered it from a few days back, but this time there was a much bigger sense of accomplishment and the company was approximately a million times better (I know, I know, I have to let it go). Because it was starting to get late -- and we were lazy -- we all decided to "hitch" rides back to the tavern at the bottom of the mountain. I wound up bumming a ride with a Scottish couple from Glasgow before meeting up with everybody else (and Wayne and Leslie, a cool older couple from Perth who drove part of the group down) for some of the worst hot chocolate I've ever had.
On the bus ride back, someone, possibly Ben, came up with the idea to have a big barbecue to finish off the day properly. For $7 Australian, including alcohol, we all had a huge feast. Unfortunately, it was a hot plate party and not an authentic barbecue because the one at the Frog was too dirty. At the very least, I was able to educate all these foreigners about a true-blue American burger and how much better mince is than the crap patties they offer in the supermarkets. Properly stuffed, we commenced tackling the goon and playing free pool until it was time for some Hobart bar-hopping (and yeah, Hobart has more than one place to go out). We started at an Irish bar with a good cover band, but since they closed early -- or normal time in the US -- before moving on to a night club (which I was able to get in to for free thanks to a little white lie) that started off OK before the music selection became increasingly shocking
We made it!
. Now, for another quick random Australian observation. Australians can say and do anything on radio. They can play songs with expletives, the disc jockeys can curse and I even heard one carry out an extended running joke with a caller from a town pronounced "Yapoon." That being said, why oh why, do the clubs play the edited versions?From the second place, myself, Aimee, and a group of Australians went for a snack in Salamanca square where we watched a guy casually eating a pie fall ass-backwards into a fountain. Instead of panicking, he casually resumed eating his pie and hanging out in the water. Only after a few minutes did someone bother to pull him out, at which point he continued with his pie, looked around a little confused and then staggered off, half his body drenched, half completely dry. Afterward, I went with Aimee and an Australian guy who was (unsuccessfully) trying to get with her to a night club called Syrup, which, I can honestly say is the biggest waste of five bucks I've ever seen. If I had set fire to the bill, at least I could've enjoyed the colors of the flame. The top floor was like a sauna and the other floor was playing horrendously cheesy music capped off by YMCA, and the only reason I can see a club playing YMCA is so they can successfully weed out those who are very drunk, those who are very desperate and those who are very drunk and very desperate
Enjoying some cocoa after the climb
. It was 5 o'clock before I tucked myself in, a mere 20 hours after I woke up. More bang for my buck I say.And a few more random things...I just watched an Australian comedy called The Castle. An absolutely brilliant example of ridiculous Australian humor. Best part, one of the bit roles is played by a very young, very Australian Eric Bana. Nine years later he's saving the world from terrorism as an Israeli super-assassin. You've come a long way, mate. Also, last night Ben, Rachel and Ziggy went to a party in a forest southwest of Hobart where a bunch of protesters have set up shop to rally against the deforestation of Tasmania. The protesters have set up a giant pirate ship to serve as a road block to stop the log trucks from getting to the forest. The ship is made of wood.
Cheers
