A Salute

We never seem to think about the impact people have on our lives until we’re impacted by their death. Two days ago, a woman who is present in most of my elementary, junior high, and high school memories passed away unexpectedly, and I was stunned and suddenly aware of how much of a constant she had been for most of my life. So this one is for Mrs. Rogers.

I’m not going to pretend that I was Mrs. Rogers’ best student because I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t give her grief because I did. I spent many awkward moments at the other end of her sharp glance, and many more moments struggling between alto and soprano in choir class (I still haven’t figured it out). But I can say with confidence that Mrs. Rogers sparked something in me; I don’t feel like I was gifted with musical talent as others have been, but she managed to make me a trombone player, of all things, and a reasonably good one at that.

She also managed to stick with me, and after the ill-fitting, post-graduation tension students feel around their teachers (most often their strictest and best teachers), I began to look forward to happening upon her in the Winifred Grocery or alongside the road for a chat. She was happy to see me, happy to hear about my life, and never reproached me for the time she sent me to the office for talking back too much, or all the times she had to stop the entire band practice to tell Casey and I to shut up (if any of my students are reading this, please don’t judge me too harshly).

I don’t know what the Winifred High School halls will sound like without the constant metronome tap of her rings on the piano top or “Holy Toledo!” echoing in the students’ ears. She has been a building block of our school and our community, and she deserves the highest respect for the years of passion and time she put into WHS.   

The Wanderer

Most people know that wandering through the desert often leads to insanity. The wanderer's mind cracks, leaving a gap between illusion and reality: "Is that water?! No, it's a rock."  "That's most certainly water! Nope, a lizard that looks like a rock." 

Planting cotton, I've found, is similar. It's like wandering through a GPS-mapped desert. I've been on this feild for two full days, 26 hours, and I'm still not done. I think I'm about to crack, so you can read this as a farewell-to-Sarah's-sanity post. 

Unlike the poor desert wanderer, I'm not looking for water. I have my water jug (he's a friendly sort, very chatty).

Instead, I'm looking for the end of the field. And trees. And signs in the trees (bye-bye, sanity). 

This specimen, for example, is undoubtedly a sign meaning that the end is near.

That's all.

I'm a Farmer!

I have a job! Many jobs, actually, most of which include driving green tractors—oh yes, John Deere gets a nod from Australia—and struggling with irrigation and its ups, downs, flows, and stops. The Watsons hired me while I was still in Montana, kind of a wing and a prayer I suppose, thanks mainly to Laura Boyce. I can’t thank her enough. I am now living in one of their cottages and enjoying their kindness and hospitality and surplus of farm work, some familiar, some entirely new to me. Along with lateral irrigation, the Watson farm uses mostly siphon irrigation, which falls into the category of work that is unfamiliar to me. Well, it’s at least marginally familiar now, but I did struggle and elicit quite a lot of laughter from my trainer, Cliff, in the early period of my irrigation expertise.

I now can start many siphons in a much shorter time period. The basic formula is water in an irrigation ditch, a black plastic tube about 6 feet long, and an arching motion that includes creating suction with one hand and plunging the tube into the ditch and back out with the other hand until it is full and ready to be thrown down. The full pipe is thrown into a rotor buck, an earthen, wide ditch that is dug by an implement on the back of a (green) tractor, on the other side of the irrigation ditch. So the pipe is draped across the field side of the irrigation ditch and siphons water until it is lifted, kicked, flipped into inertia. It’s definitely an acquired kind of enjoyment.

The idea is to direct the water between two cotton rows; the water runs down every other ditch between the cotton rows and is “subbed up” in the remaining rows from exposure to water for 12 to however-many hours it needs to run through the rows. Cotton came up first on the field I irrigated with much assistance from Cliff and my boss, Andrew Watson. Here’s photographic evidence for your records!

Other than actual irrigation, I’ve spent hours with Wayne, another of my coworkers, throwing siphons into the ditches, aiming for the rotor bucks on the other side of the irrigation ditch. Roads skirt every field, every irrigation ditch, and we drive along them pulling the pipe trailer, throwing siphons from the back. The result: I have the shoulders of a football player.

Every morning and evening that I went to my field, W9, I was berated by cockatoos and galahs. If ever I’ve been happy with a thorough butt-chewing, this is the time. To think that I can wake up in the morning, say hello to the inevitable yard kangaroos that hop away with a reproachful wave of their tails, listen to the countless songs, chirpings, and crowings of the hordes and hordes of birds, and weave my way through stands of gum and eucalyptus trees, leaves me with a pleasant feeling and a solid justification for my choice of country to live in for a year. 

I'm sorry there are no pictures. The internet is deplorable, and it takes over an hour to upload two or three pictures. When I find better internet, I'll add pictures; I promise!

Brissy, baby!

 I should have written this blog days ago. For that reason, there is too much to tell in one blog, so I’ll limit this one to telling you about my time in Brisbane (Brissy, as the locals endearingly call it) and a bit about what I’m doing now. On either side of this are pictures I took on my first and second days in the city.

Emma and I arrived in Brissy ( pronounced like fizzy, not prissy) on the 29^th of September and proceeded to the apartment of a person I had met in Airlie Beach. The apartment was right on the South Bank of Brisbane, arguably the prettiest part of the city, and the view at night was phenomenal. The first night we met the other Americans (yeah!) staying there, a traveling musical group from Nashville, Tennessee, of all places. The singer’s name is Anysia Lane—check her out; her music is worth a listen (http://www.anysialane.com/#!media/c17bp). On a side note, it was unusual for me to meet with many Americans while I was backpacking. Once again, Germans everywhere.

That night I slept in a swag on the floor. A swag is the camping Australian’s pride and joy and is basically a tricked out sleeping bag that can be gusseted into one-person tent. I’m sure these exist in America as well, but I’m not so sure they call them “swags”.

The Brisbane River runs through the middle of the city, and locals often catch river ferries to and from work. I loved this idea, so we spent most of the next morning riding the ferry, finding cheap sushi spots for snacks, and walking around the rest of downtown Brisbane. Across the river and up from South Bank lies the downtown proper, or where the big businesses in their too-big buildings loom, blocking (or creating, depending on your view of the world) the skyline.

                 Brisbane Wheel

Satisfied with our exploration of the city, Emma and I decided to visit the Steve Irwin Zoo on the 31^st. Dad and I used to watch Steve Irwin's show "The Crocodile Hunter" and laugh and call a calf or a garter snake a “ripper” and call each other “mate”. Mr. Irwin, if you aren’t familiar, is mainly known for his exorbitant amounts of energy, walk-in-the-park attitude towards handling the world’s deadliest animals, and in Australia I’ve noticed, his respect and care for native wildlife. If you don’t remember, here is a video refresher of the glory that is Steve Irwin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mlDXZywedvc

I saw the tigers he introduces in the video, but they are now full grown. These pictures are of Kaitlyn, a 7-year-old female Sumatran Tiger. Below is one seriously sleepy koala. Sloth is a forgivable vice in koalas; they are adorable no matter how little they move.

The next morning, I took Emma to the airport at 3:00 AM. I’ll tell you now, navigating a city the size of Brisbane on the left-hand side of the road is much easier when there is no traffic. She was off to Sydney for a few days and then catching another flight to Perth to meet with her boyfriend, so I was left to wander Brisbane solo. 

Being centered in the South Bank, I had easy access to the Brisbane Cultural Center, which includes the state library, the Queensland Art Gallery and Museum of Modern Art, the Queensland Museum, and the Queensland Performing Arts Centre. I visited all but the state library (regrettably, but I’ll return to Brisbane in November). The art gallery and Museum of Modern Art were beyond comparison; they held everything from Aboriginal art to Impressionism. If you haven’t picked up on it through my blog, I’ll just say that Brisbane is a pleasant and enjoyable city. I would recommend visiting it if you just happen to be passing through Aus.  

This was my last full day in Brisbane; the next day I left for Tamworth on the Greyhound, bound for cotton farming and irrigation. This is where I’ll end. Blogs should be fairly short to keep the attention of the Information Age cohort, right? I’ll continue with the next blog in a couple days. G’day mates.

Kangaroos!

This is a mama and her two joeys in the middle of a small town called Boonooroo on the Queensland coast. We had driven there to get a look at Fraser Island from across the channel, and we had the good luck of seeing some town kangaroos.

I was happy to see them alive; up to this point, I had the impression that kangaroos were strictly road kill in Australia. 

Snorkeling:) :) :)

If you ever find yourself with the opportunity to go snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef, or any other reef for that matter, DO IT. What an incredible experience. We began the day with an Australian that looks a lot like Lucas Black... :) Before booking this trip, I met an Austrian woman named Emma on the bus ride to Daintree Forest. She is also a teacher, has a strong, compelling personality, and has turned out to be a great friend on this adventure. So we booked our snorkeling trip together--my first snorkel ever, let alone on the Great Barrier Reef, and one of several for Emma.

  Lucas Black

Anyway, Mr. Black (I never caught his name) told us a few things about the reef, drove too fast over the rutty roads, then dropped us off at the Ocean Safari center where we were given wet suits (wetties in Australian--they shorten everything that can be shortened), and shown a picture of Mackay Reef, which we were to visit that day. Cam, our tour guide, explained the benefits of that reef, i.e. they were the only tour that went there, so it is very exclusive, basically undamaged, and the creatures aren't afraid of people. This is Mackay Reef:

It looks a bit different now but basically the same. Instead of a long, linear "island" there is now a single island or cay that is round and emerges above the water about three or four feet; the sand is a product of coral that has been ground to a fine, white grain. 

The boat ride out was wild. I opted to ride on the side of the boat, which meant I was clinging to a rope with one hand and a cloth handle with the other. At times it felt like we were hitting the ocean floor when we hit the trough of a wave, but it was incredibly fun and adrenaline inducing. The skipper (my Austrian friend Emma used skipper instead of captain) drove like a man possessed, played chicken with the waves, and blared music for the 30 minutes it took to reach the reef. All this resulted in a tiny bit a fear and a large bit of excitement. This is an image of the boat we took to the reef:

When we finally got out there, Cain, our skipper, gave us a rundown on snorkeling safety and hand signals that indicate certain states of being: one hand held to top of your head, your arm in a loop, means you're okay, an inexplicable gesture with your hands means turtle, hands held like fins on top of your head means shark, and waving your arms and screaming "help" means, well, "HELP!!" 

After all this, I was pretty apprehensive, being out so far into the Pacific, out of sight of land. I'm not a strong swimmer, I'm from a land-locked state, and the water was so blue and so deep. But Cain handed me a pool noodle, told me I'd be fine, and sent me over the edge. I can't put into words the feeling of plunging into the absolute unknown. I've done it before when I bungee jumped in South Africa, but the ocean was somehow scarier, more unknown. At least I could see the ground rushing towards me when I bungee jumped. But the ocean is murky at certain depths and even the smallest imagination can conjure terrifying monsters from that water. 

But Emma was right ahead of me, and seeing her put on her snorkel, I did the same. What followed was like magic. I could see, and what I saw was fascinating. The best way I can think to describe it is like a community. The fish had their areas, their pockets between the green, blue, orange, pink coral. They lived in symbiosis, trimming the coral, keeping it clean, while cleaning each other and coexisting in this incredible coral reef that exists on a plane somewhere between land and water. It was at first strange to hear myself breathing, like Darth Vader had taken up residence in my head. But I became comfortable much more quickly than I would have expected and began to notice more and more. I saw parrot fish, blue starfish, giant clams, and a sting ray.

Giant clam and blue starfish.

 But best of all, I saw five sea turtles, their backs like desert mosaics, their eyes large and shining. They scratched their bellies on the coral, they drifted around, looking bored, then interested, then bored again. We didn't matter to them; they were oblivious of us as we followed them around like a school of fish. The only problem I found with the turtles was I could not keep from smiling, which flooded my mouth with ocean water. A rookie mistake, I'm sure, but there was no helping it.

After the initial snorkel, we went to another, deeper spot on the same reef, and this is where we saw the biggest of the giant clams. In one spot, Cam told us there were 32 clams, the largest measuring 3-4 feet across. Their colors are brilliant: blue, pink, white, purple, and varying shades of many others.

After two hours on Mackay Reef, we went back to Cape Tribulation. I was exhausted and cold, but happier and more satisfied with snorkeling than I had expected to be. This final picture is of me and the crew that were on the reef that day, September 15. I hope you enjoyed this blog. Feel free to comment at the bottom and ask questions! I'm sorry I haven't blogged for awhile; the last two places I've stayed have charged way too much for wifi so I stubbornly refused to pay. But keep in mind, although I try to be consistent, sometimes it is difficult. I will do my best!

Daintree National Forest

Hello! I haven't written for a few days, and there is so much to tell. Where to begin? Well, first of all, there are countless Germans in Australia on Work and Holiday just like me. I ate a Wagyu steak with Sandra, a girl from near Leipzig, flabbergasted a man named Holger from Dusseldorf when I told him that yes, my community only has 200 people, and shared an entire afternoon doing Aqua Zumba (basically Zumba in the water) and other Cairns activities like going to the market and going out, with a girl named Carolin from Western Germany. I can't describe how friendly and personable people are; it is simply impossible to be alone. In fact, I find it difficult to find the time to sit down and write.

But now I am in Port Douglas, a smaller town north of Cairns.

It is a beautiful little town with many shops and the most incredible foliage. There are palm trees everywhere; the countryside is covered in sugar cane and tea. 

I spent the end of the week, starting Sunday, in Daintree National Forest at the Beach House, a hostel arranged in cabins along Cape Tribulation. I booked a tour through the park and was picked up by George, my tour guide, at 8:00 outside of Tropical Days Hostel in Cairns. George, an Aboriginal man, proved to be an educated and compelling tour guide. In fact, it was difficult to keep up with the information he was providing. Some examples: there were two crocodiles on the Daintree River named Barnacle Bill, so they named them BB #1 and #2 until #1 died (it made things much easier, sad as it was); he was born ON Ellis Beach North of Cairns; the main crops include sugar cane, tea, bananas, mangoes, pineapples (lesser crop), and cocoa beans; the Daintree was named after Richard Daintree, a geologist from Scotland, and it takes 12 months for sugar cane to reach maturity.

After hearing innumerable facts about the area, we took a nature walk where we saw a cassowary! I was told that it was very unlikely I'd see a cassowary, so it was a rare experience. George told us it was a male because it was accompanied by its baby. Apparently, the males take care of the children after they hatch. A lesson to be taken from cassowaries, boys. 

This is a picture I took with my iPhone. It isn't perfect, but you can still see the crest on top of his head; it is meant for protection while the cassowary runs through the jungle, which it does at an angle nearly parallel to the ground. They have also been named the world's most dangerous bird because of a claw they have on the toes of each foot. This claw has been proven to be fatal if applied to humans, dogs, etc. They can run at about 30 mph through the jungle and can jump nearly 5 feet in the air. They are shy, though, and rarely seen, so I feel lucky to have seen one.

After that, George dropped Regine, an Austrian woman I met on the bus, and me off at the Beach House on Cape Tribulation. We soon booked two tours, one for snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef on Monday and a night walk for Monday night. I feel that the snorkeling deserves its own blog post, so you can wait for that one :) I need to go to bed now-it is difficult to have time to sleep here since there is always something going on and always someone who wants to participate. Here are pictures of Cape Tribulation--it is a remote beach with very few people around, and the scenery is exceptional.

Loving Australia, Missing Montana

I've been in Australia now for three days and have met so many nice, welcoming people. I love being here and being amongst people who have the same interests and some of the same goals as I do. I'm not homesick, per say, but Montana is on my mind:)

A beautiful morning in Cairns.

Cairns

Yesterday, I flew into Cairns, Queensland, Australia! It is beautiful and temperate here. The weather is currently at 73 degrees and showers pass through here and there (it is raining right now).When we were flying in, I noticed right away that Cairns isn't a big city, and I was really relieved. There are about 170,000 people here. It doesn't feel like a city.

I immediately met a bunch of backpackers who were staying at various hostels but only met one that was staying at the same hostel as I am. It is called Traveler's Oasis; it is within walking distance of the ocean and is very close to the shopping center.

I regret to report that the only wildlife I have seen so far are birds--no wallabies or kangaroos. And they're your run-of-the-mill little tweeting, singing birds that wake you up very early. I did see some pigeons. Not that you care about that.

While I'm here, I plan on taking a diving trip out the Great Barrier Reef, visiting Daintree Rainforest, and just relaxing and wandering around Cairns. I'm thinking I'll be here about five days.

It took me 34 hours of flying to make Australia; my longest flight was 12 1/2 hours. That was not what I would call fun. I felt like my back was always on the verge of spasm and that my legs could possibly fall off at any given point. There were good movies provided, though, so I spent the hours watching movies and reading when there was light.

Now, I'm listening to it rain. And rain. And rain. It's beautiful.

Hope you all have a good Thursday, and I'll enjoy my Friday.

Sarah

The Launch

Hello, everyone.

This post is simply a launch of the blog that I will be keeping up while I'm travelling and living in Australia. I leave September 8th, on a plane that starts in Billings, flies to Denver, then L.A., then hops the Pacific Ocean all the way to Auckland, New Zealand, and finally alights in Cairns, Australia on September 10th.

I decided to do this for a few reasons. First and foremost, I've been dreaming about Australia since I was 14 years old; a coworker and part owner at the Donald Ranch outside of Melville, Montana told me about his experiences working on a cattle station in Queensland and ever since, I've been dying to go. Secondly, I found that the idea of teaching abroad very appealing and began the application process for that, but found that Australia is full of native teachers but lacking in jobs. So instead of teaching, I'll be working on various farms and ranches throughout the country. The third reason that pushed me into finally taking the leap, which happened more recently (within the last year), was a conversation I had with Laura Boyce about her experiences in Australia. Because of Laura, I was able to contact the farmers/ranchers she had worked for while over there and was given a job and a place to stay. Without Laura, none of this would have been possible.

I will conclude there; it is likely I will not post for awhile since the internet at home on the ranch is basically nonexistent. But I will post as soon as I start my preparations for the trip and am hopping a plane to the Land Down Under.

Sarah