Globechadder

I am at the office on the Friday before my last weekend in Oz and I excited that I am fulfilling one of my initial goals: I am leaving for Tasmania today. After printing out the bus pass for travel to the airport, I write down my itinerary on the back of the pass for a quick reference.

1. Bus Pass – Check
2. Hostel Information, including address and reference numbers – Check
3. Flight Information, including flight numbers and times – Fail

For whatever reason, I have been the awkward traveler for these past few months. Last month, I booked the wrong return airport and this time, I booked an 8:00 AM Sunday return to Melbourne. Fail! Flying Jetstar, whom I know to be a stickler for their flight change rules, I was upset by this challenge. The difference in cost for the two flights was sixty AUD and the flight change was fifty AUD; my round trip flight was only 189 AUD from the start. I knew that I could do only one thing: I had to stay in business attire, go to the airport and talk to a representative, and turn on the Southern Charm! It worked! Feeling sorry for the American who was spending his last week in Oz, she wanted me to enjoy my last trip as much long as I could, so she changed the flight for me at no charge! Needless to say, we are best friends now. I am now ready, I leave for Tassie, and I get my full weekend under Down Under.

Feeling a bit like Atreyu escaping The Nothing, the flight into Launceston was a bit frightful… and I did not even have my luck dragon. Looking out of the window, it is not even sunset and I see nothing be thick, ominous gray clouds threatening our landing. These fears only increased when the plane refused to stabilize as it was rushed with 50 kph winds after the landing gear was extracted. Weaving side to side in pendulum motion, we finally slam into the ground; I am tired and relieved. Thinking that I would love nothing more than unloading my pack and grabbing a bite to eat, I find a shuttle into town and head for Arthouse Hostel. When I get to the hostel, a wet, late night walk around town proves that no place is open and that I am lost in my search for food. I give in to the fact and move on into bed so that I may make my early start to Cradle Mountain.

Saturday morning, I wake and start my trip to Cradle Mountain. With a small group, I learn that the trip will be much milder than what I normally prefer due to the inclement weather; however still I have some chin splints for last week’s dancing, I am quite okay with the fact. We take a beautiful walk around Dove Lake before giving an attempt up the mountain a try. Unfortunately, the heavy rains mixed with ill prepared bushwalkers resulted in our turn around to the lake path.

I am not sure what it is about me and my outdoor excursions, but it must be written somewhere that the environment must be cold and raining for me to get outside. It is summer in Australia and I have to take pauses on the journey to get the blood to flow to my toes to relieve numbness. This was a bit more understandable in October, but I was shocked to experience this in mid-December; so much for me heading back to Atlanta with a tan.

Now, I’ll head back to Launceston for more rain, another night’s rest, and another day in Tasmania.