21-10-2011 - Broome – From 7th Oct to 29th Nov - campsite

hoe, rake and pick

After about a week of tentative attempts, most of which were spent filling out forms or delivering my miserable CV to distracted managers I obtained a job. This only 3 mins from the campsite by bicycle and better still the same kind of work I did in Italy, here they call it landscaping in order to differentiate it from gardening. Little matter I don't understand a single word of what my bosses tell me to do, but with a little healthy spirit of improvisation and some vigour I manoeuvre my way around the wonderful private park, digging lots and lots of holes in the red earth, which when it is dry is as hard as cement. And so, almost without realizing it I am absorbed into the working world, with all of its pros and cons. On the positive side, here in Australia everything is more expensive, but also the wages are higher and if you live in a campsite, do your shopping at the supermarket and don't go out in the evening it is possible to save money. The negatives are doing such a hard job in this humid heat. Sweat and an aching back, chronic tiredness fortunately alleviated by the calm spirit of my group of colleagues. The weeks fly by, as well as my main job a thousand other little jobs pop up, if you are willing to do anything and accept the fact of being treated like a 'good immigrant', with regards to pay and type of work, I mean. For ten nights I work a few hours in a Thai restaurant, where I discover that being a waiter is not for me. Too many exotic names to remember while I am intent on trying to not drop the plates on top of the customers. Every sunday I spend time on a new 'hobby' which allows me to save on rent, raking up the leaves that continuously fall from the tall trees around the campsite. For a week, so as not to break the habit of raking, I help Alan for a couple of hours on a camel ranch after work. As well as this I pick juicy mangos for a few weekends on a colleague's farm outside the city. These jobs take up a lot of my free time and energy, but contribute to my objective. The hot days pass by quickly, the short evenings are spent with my group of friends around the tent with some beers and the sound of a guitar. We share good dinners, tiredness, the joy and pain of our working lives, obviously remembering our past and dreaming of our future travels.

06-10-2011 - Broome – From 29th Sept to 6th Oct

campsite

There are a few things which are different here, an unusual sensation with respect to the other towns I crossed previously. Lots of young people on the streets of the sunny city centre situated on a little peninsula, surrounded by mangroves swamps to the south and long beaches of white sandunes to the north-west. I explore the area in detail intent on finding a nice campsite, from the point of view of being cheap and in a good location. In the touristic area of Cable Beach I find one. I intend to stop for a few days in order to sort out the luggage rack, but in the meantime I look around to see what I could do here. The caravan park is crowded with many super-organized campervans and backpackers, this is the name which the Australians generally give to young travellers. There are people from all over the world, each with a glorious history of 'bumming' around Australia and not only here. I start getting to know the people in the next tent, the beautiful and incomprehensible Louise, Paul and Diana an intercontinental couple who met in Central America and Steve and Michelle, two English people who have calmly faced their working adventure here in Broome for months now. I get many tips from them and other people. Ok I am convinced that this will be my location for a while. The desperate and timid hunt for work begins. With a little confusion I address the search for a job not even sure what it is that I want to do, wavering between a restaurant and improvising as a waiter, to a resort and the possible position as a gardiner. By doing so I can explore the city better and notice that this place attracts me more and more, for its small size, for the cycle tracks which reach every strategic point. For the laid-back people who stroll around the touristic centre of Chinatown, which is China-like only in name, and for the burning sunsets along the majestic beaches along Cable beach. For me living here is a luxury, I have a fridge and a kitchen, now all I am missing is the money to do a good bit of grocery shopping.

27-09-2011 - Derby – Broome – From 26th to 28th September – kms: 100 – 93 – 30

tent

A little more than two days of cycling. Nothing around me changes apart from a strong headwind which arrives from the ever closer coast. I pedal with many thoughts on my mind, perhaps the time has come for me to pitch my tent in the same place for a while and find a job. I need one and sooner or later I have to accept the challenge of putting myself into the environment and not merely experiencing the place as a passerby. It will be a big change and definitely more difficult than overcoming any mountain, but everyone I have met until now has done it, therefore I can also find a job. I pass through the large crossroads which will, one day, lead me south in the direction of Perth and enter the road for Broome, a last night in the bush and early in the morning I enter the town.

24-09-2011 - Born to Be Wild – from 23th to 25th Sept – Derby

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Soon after I get supplies, while cycling towards the town centre a car approaches. The driver is a slim sixty year-old American in town for work and to continue his journey by bike. He invites me to sleep at his place, a garage; at least that is what I seemed to understand... After a few hours passed at the information centre and the lovely library I reach Gene's and discover my den for the night. The area is extensive and a heap of rusty metal sheets are stacked beneath the hot sun. Some containers and cranes. The place as far as I understand belongs to Captain crane who along with his young son manages the local transport business. They live in a sort of palafitte and for months they have allowed Gene to camp in a remote area of the ''park''. I pitch the tent near to his and prepare for a few days break. I need to resolve a few mechanical problems and integrate myself back into western society. Gene travels on a three-wheel bike, one of those which you pedal while lying down and a bike trailer. He has been touring around Australia for about 10 years. He tells me about places and different jobs that can be done here and there. I listen with interest while I observe everything around me still in amazement. More or less it is like a scene from Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man a classic American film from the eighties. Everything is stained by the strong odour of engine oil. Another cowboy present on set is Dayler, also known as Greencan. I spend a nice sunday in the workshop with him doing a little maintenance on the bike. All this accompanied by a case of beer and rock music being transmitted from a crackling radio. Greencan has lived in a container for years and here in Derby he has found his peace after years spent living in the bush with his wife and probably having some troubles with the law, however we don't touch upon this subject, he prefers telling me about his stepfather in Italy, he remembers drinking grappa with him, but does not remember the name of the city. A strange guy, wild but good. I am still surprised at meeting certain people, it is really true, ''heroes'' don't exist only in films.... I spend another nice afternoon at Mandy's house, a girl that I met in the library. She lives outside the town, in the countryside. She and her husband take care of animals which have been injured by cars. The garden is full of Kangaroos and Wallabies, a smaller species of marsupial. A nice time spent with peaceful and satisfied people. Apart from the world-record high tide that floods the ''salties'' infested mangroves and the lovely library, there is not much to see in Derby. I say goodbye to the road 'rockers' and head towards the touristic and one time hippy town of Broome.

21-09-2011 - From Kununurra to Derby - 15th to 23th September – Kms: 58 – 95 – 75 – 75 – 77 – 74 – 82 – 91 – 94 – 49 – 80

tent

After a good days' rest I take to the road again and a few kms after crossing a bridge which bisects the largest reservoir in the southern hemisphere I arrive at a crossroads, excellent the dirt road begins and I enter the legendary road. On first impressions it is nothing special apart from the bumpy road and a few large hills in the distance. I am worried about my water supplies, but I should find enough streams along the way. A few jeeps kick up dust as they pass by and in silence I pedal farther and farther away from the main road. Only now I realize that in 700 kms back home I can encounter a thousand villages or towns. Here no, just two roadhouses!!!!! I have enough water for a few days and food for about a week, nothing particularly appetizing, but essentials in order to feed myself. Crossing the Pentecost River provides me with the right kind of stimulation, breaking the rear luggage rack many times does not, but this is the challenge of off-roading. A few places are particulary striking and I delight in the emotion of procuring water in a few rivers which are all but dry. Stagnant water but precious all the same, every now and again I am afraid of being attacked by crocodiles, after all I am in their habitat here. I need to drink and they need to eat meat, all in accordance with the fundamentals of the food chain. I had the chance of experiencing some strong emotions when I met some aboriginal people on a river. For the first time I could see their smiles and their pleasure at living in their own land. Meeting Carol and Sjef was important too, a sprightly couple of old adventurers. I shared a nice lunch with them in the shade of some large plants and had a pleasant conversation about the history of the aborigines and the lives of the European immigrants in this far away land. By chance I met them again in a natural park. All very exciting: the canyon, the bats and the small crocodiles along the bank of the limpid river, an amazing place you could say!!!! After about nine days of having a dry throat due to the dust from the cursed sandy ridges along the road, the Gibb river road ends. This too is gone, now I am on asphalt which will lead me to the little town of Derby. I am on the look out for a supermarket, I need vitamins.

10-09-2011 - From Katherine to Kununurra - 10th to 13th September tent – Kms: 103 – 98 – 140 – 110 – 58

open air

Warm air, shrubbery, long, dry grass which colours the never-ending plains gold, this is the Savannah Way, the road that cuts the north of the country from east to west. In my case there are 125 kms to the next water supply, and then the following five days in order to reach Kununurra. Everything is more or less the same. I have to cross a little border between the Northern Territory and Western Australia. At the customs the rangers are intent on not allowing the passage of fruit and vegetables so as not to contaminate the ecosystems of the two different coasts. The biggest threat is a notorious toad, called the Cane toad. A dangerous border therefore. The scenery does not change, a long and at times boring road leads me to my detsination. The city rises on the bank of a large lake and my impression regarding urban centres does not change, for me they are only a comfortable way to resupply and to enjoy a shower. The campsite is crowded with young, predominantly French, people hired to pick fruit, which will probably be my future job and so I obtain a few hints about it, but for now I want to get far away from the monsoon area. I obtain information about the Gibb river road, a real must for those who love off-road. 700 kms of dirt road through the middle of crocodile country which crosses a few rivers. A good excuse for avoiding the main road and reaching Derby on the north-west coast.

07-09-2011 - From Darwin to Katherine - 5th to 9th September tent – kms: 121 – 95 – 96 – 106 – 40

open air

The morning of my departure arrives and with a subdued roar I say goodbye to my camping companions and seriously worried about the distances, or rather about finding a place where I can find some water and food, I leave the tidy city following a bicycle track in the shade of tall trees. A luxury that does not last long, in fact right after it, a vast expanse of low trees and arid shrubs awaits me. Not a single man-made noise, apart from the rare case of the passing of a few ''road trains'', a mechanical beast of unimaginable dimensions. For example four trailers being towed by a single truck makes you remember quickly, that the road is also travelled by men every now and again, and not only by kangaroos and every sort of bird and reptile. I am also a little worried about encountering all the different species of animal that can harm me, apparently in this country there are many, therefore everytime I set foot in the bush, their savannah, I am very careful. I feel like a fish out of water here, but I am eager to reach my first objective, the town of Katherine. I spend the first two days inside a natural park, a little taste of what this continent has to offer me. The hours pass slowly beneath the powerful sun on the infinite straight roads which cut through the emptiness. Occasionally I come across villages, or rather roadhouses, when I eventually arrive there, I observe what is around me in disbelief, everything is like an american film. Petrol Station and galvanised houses and small post offices inside expensive mini-markets. The local news announces the capture of huge crocodiles, everything is under control, I feel safe here, the rangers are patrolling the area!!!! I leave the sad, empty resting place, better the sound of nothing than the glare of enormous caravans and 4WD vehicles parked in the place of vices. Yes because for me everything, even a simple drink has prohibitive prices, it is not like in Asia any more. Here there is hunger, thirst and long, barren roads, which however offer me complete freedom to sleep wherever I want, enjoying every sunset and every sunrise, occasionally lulled to sleep by the songs of the dingoes. A gift from the wild nights. On arrival in Katherine I feel disappointed by the town. Although I cannot expect much from a settlement created on a large crossroads. You can travel around the whole country from south to north or from east to west passing through this desolate, little town. The sight of living conditions of some 'defeated' aborigines upsets me. Again the people who live side by side with them show total indifference. This upsets me a little and after being bled dry at the supermarket I find refuge in a campsite outside the town. A much needed shower and a walk along a dry riverbed, this is the dry season, for the moment water is in short supply, but the time will soon come when even the roads are flooded. With great joy I see a small crocodile on the sunlit bank on the other side, in order to conquer your fears, you have to face you fears first. In the tidy kitchen at the campsite I meet a wild little family who in between beers and bbq's travel their country, in a super-equipped vehicle obviously. The people in this remote part of the ''small island'', don't respect the conventional british style of life, that of the barons I mean, this is the birthplace of ACDC for a reason, pure Rock 'n' Roll. Everything around you is too large, the idea of freedom is born spontaneously, therefore everybody here feels free. After half a days' break, the following morning overloaded with water and just a few luxuries I leave the city with the certainty of having to pass some more days in the infinite nature.

02-09-2011 - The Lion's Den (Mindil Beach) – Darwin – from 31st Aug to 4th September

tent – open air

Mindil beach is a cult location among backpackers who stop in Darwin, for its uncontaminated nature and also because in the shaded park adjacent to it, it is possible to have free access to bbq's and toilets, all this is perfect for the scrounging, frugal mentality of the young travellers, who cover vast tracts of Australia in any old banger, working here and there. A few veterans have already been here for two years, but I don't want to be influenced by their experiences, for now I am too excited about how my journey here will be, all the new things and especially the long distances. While waiting to receive my work visa I spend my days wandering around the town with my loaded bike, ready for every eventuality. The company is excellent, a bunch of Italians some of whom arrived together and some of whom met here, crowd together covertly along a stretch of beach being used by only a few other people. The tide rises gently up to my tent, in this season they say that the 'salties', the large saltwater crocodiles, don't populate the area, and so I feel safe and after good afternoons and evenings with the gang I always sleep serenely. The heat arrives early and I begin the daily routine of searching for water and shade. I have the possibility of working at the Rugby Stadium for an evening. A daunting challenge, four hours behind the bar, trying to imagine the names of the drinks pronounced by every kind of drunkard that appears in between breaks during the match. Intense hours thinking that in this country which is as expensive as hell, I will have to find a job sooner or later. For now going by the information obtained from friends at the 'Lion's Den', it will be a new kind of journey.

27-08-2011 - First Impressions – Darwin – From 26th to 30th August

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A warm, sweet air welcomes me as I exit the plane at the little international airport in Darwin, the main city in the Northern Territory region. There is something strange about this smell, perhaps it is my imagination, but this air smells of the great outdoors..... It takes a long time to reassemble the bike and to reach Chris' house, a deaf, naked, forty year-old Australian, who thanks to couchsurfing will host me for the first few days. I meet his housemate Kim, a young guy of Chinese origin from Sydney, who has been hanging around in the north living off of money he receives from the rich, democratic Governement. The house is like a seaport and after a while Taylor, a Canadian hitch-hiker, arrives – a ''know-it-all'' who for seven years has travelled around the world and is passing through Chris' on the way to Indonesia. His stories are interesting, but not for three days in a row..... I walk around the rich, orderly, touristic city and observe the non-integration of the aboriginal population. This makes me sad, I had not thought about this factor. In spite of this everything seems to shimmer in this city, much different from the hundred or so chaotic, Asian, urban centres I visited previously, the situation of the natives trapped by concrete and western vices creates a sort of negligible stain, something not to be noticed, not to be thought about as you go to the bars or souvenir shops. A great divide and everytime I ask white people for an opinion I hear different versions, which seem more like excuses or reasons for not having to think of a solution to the problem. Providing that there is one.... And so between BBQ's in shaded houses and hippies and evenings passed on Chris' terrace, slowly I am introduced to Australian society, obviously with some notable linguistic misunderstandings; have patience I will improve. Now it's time to leave the house, I say goodbye to everyone and move to a beach....