Episode II

George Lucas made us wait many years for the conclusion to his Star Wars epic. Get off my case. It’s been only four days. Besides, I’ve had a job interview, car shopping and general errand to run that weren’t completed in my absence. Thank you bro.

Anyway.

Sydney. What a town.

The malaise I had felt when I departed Adelaide had washed away. The flatness of the Hay plain a distant memory as my thoughts tumbled and gambolled over rolling hills and darted in and out of concrete boxes that seemingly held up the sky.

I could not throw a stone without striking some form of construction work. I struggled to ascertain whether the city was in a constant state of evolution, forever adapting to a fast changing world… or whether they were simply patching over the rot and decay.

I asked a friend I met, and he indicated that it was a bit of both teams.

Town Hall station was a mire of mess and filth, which can be initially off putting. But it can be forgiven when you realise that it effectively is the hub, the nerve centre if you will, of the trains in Sydney.

I imagine that it would be used heavily and constantly, and for any cleaners to walk in and start scrubbing, they are effectively taking a huge risk of being trampled to death by public servants who are blinded by the conversation on their mobile phones.

Imagine the miners who are 20 kilometres below the surface, scraping at some vein of ore. Yeah, risk like that. Although I imagine 20,000 tonnes of rock is nothing compared to the fury of an arrogant and ignorant white-collar worker in Gucci shoes.

Well, I guess it’s down to the photos. Naturally, there are going to be the touristy shots of the usual landmarks. Let’s get them out of the way. Besides, it’s not like you lot haven’t seen photos of the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House before.







There. Happy? :)







I liked this building. It reeked of history, and if it had a mouth it would speak many stories of events and people afore. But it would also have a plumb, snotty accent and I wouldn’t listen to it as I’d think it a pompous arse.

The first photo is an attempt at something "arty"




The fountain on Martin Place. Yes, The Matrix fountain. Yes, it’s cooler now. The whole time I was thinking… there is no spoon. No blondes in red dresses either. Just business suits. *purr*




These guys were cool. The sounds of Australia’s indigenous people, set to the backing track of a driving techno beat.

There were other buskers, but none all that interesting. The usual people pretending to be “live” statues, and some kid in a donkey costume that was begging to have his “ass” (haw haw) kicked.




Shot of the Sydney skyline from Darling Harbour. What you can’t see, however, is me climbing atop the benches to get this picture. Classy.

But I know a lot of people who read this might be somewhat interested in Australia as a place. The environment, the weather patterns… and our crazy accents. But crikey… I can’t capture all of that. Bonza, eh?

On the trip to Sydney, I was punching myself repeatedly in the frontal lobe for not having the foresight to possibly fly back to Adelaide. However, it was a most odd, yet inspiring time, to be alone in a car as the world changed before my senses.







Here we have shots of the Three Sisters and the valley just near Katoomba. It’s about an hours drive west of Sydney. Give or take a few minutes.

What these photos can’t tell you is the immense cold that greeted me once I had exited my car. I hadn’t rugged up all that much, and the car’s heater was filling the cabinet with comfortable warmth.

This grand view welcomed me, beckoning me out of the car with its sumptuous panorama. Then it probably laughed, as upon getting out of the car I was smacked in the face with a cold so harsh, my eyes, nose and ears almost let go of my head. The icy wind swept up through this canyon, up the rock face and battered my body like angry warriors.

There was a certain magic in the air, a purity in the breeze that seemed to whisper and hint at the future. Sorry… did I say “magic”…

I had only felt this kind of cold once before. In New Zealand.

Right before it snowed.




Here is some more Australiana. Just outside a little town called Lithgow.




Here is Lithgow. I had always wondered how people could describe a place as “nestled”. Well, here it is. Lithgow. “Nestled” in a neat little valley. Kinda like a little Hobbit village. Cute.

Just outside of Lithgow, something bizarre happened. I cast my mind back to the time spent on the lookout at Katoomba. The feeling of cold.

























Snow. Lots of it… for Australia, anyway. What these photos don't capture is that the snow was falling quite rapidly, floating about me like white butterflies, in a field of lillies. The extreme cold didn't figure into my senses as I stood dumbfounded, frozen to the spot.

Then I realised I had no feelings on my outer extremities. Dressing for Australian winter doesn't account for temperatures below freezing. A Jacket, t-shirt and jeans do little to protect your body from these kind of conditions.

Soon, the snow faded away to a distant memory, as though I had dreamt it. I passed through Bathurst, and I did the normal touristy thing of careening around the racetrack. Yay. I filled the car up with fuel, noticed I missed a phone call, probably from some well-wishers or my parents calling to make sure I hadn’t killed myself somewhere.

From here on in, there are some photos of the landscape Australia has to offer. For years I have thought of this land as unsightly, the dry scapes hardly being the picture of a lush, healthy countryside.

The further and further I got from Sydney, the more I thought the scenery represented my mindset.




Rolling hills. Adventure, excitement. A bit hazy, but nonetheless vivid and inspired.




The hills become smaller… flatter. Hazy...




Flat… maybe a few things worth noting.







Flat… empty. Welcome to the Hay plain. Imagine this scenery for two hours. Yep. I thank Christ I’m not a kid in the backseat.




Sunset over scorched land. This photo doesn’t capture the streams of light that filtered through the clouds, and the tranquillity of the setting.




Another sunset, taken from the driver’s seat. The Inane Asylum doesn’t endorse reckless driving… but I was running short of light, and the next 20 kilometres were heavy scrub. I wasn’t going to stop, and I wasn’t going to get another chance at a shot like that.

Drive safe people. Do as I say, not as I do. Do not lecture me on driving safety and road rules. I’m home safe now.

I spent the night in Mildura, which is about ten hours from Sydney and four from Adelaide.

The next morning, after a restless night of listening to Road Trains and other huge vehicles bashing through a sleepy town, I get going around 5.30am. By about 6.00am, I am greeted by this… which is still representative of my mind.







Foggy. Dark. Unsure.

What have I left behind? Where am I going?




This is just outside Swan Reach, a little town that teeters on the edge of the Murray River. Things are still a bit foggy, but getting brighter.



As I get closer to Adelaide, things become misty. The hills come back, but they feel too familiar. I’ve been down this road many times before.

I know that my place of residence is on the other side of that hill. Fog sits atop that ridge, waiting for me to return.

On the road for fifteen odd hours. Fifteen hours of solitude. Fifteen hours of quiet contemplation. Fifteen hours of nothing but the drone of a car, the beats of the fifteen CD’s I brought and the lyrics in my head.

This road leads back to Adelaide, but does it lead home?

This has been my trip to Sydney.

Thank you.