Around Australia by Schooner

Paul Hogan's done some wicked, wicked things in his time. Like leading thousands of Australians to an early grave by flogging durries. Like hiding overseas, rather than settle a shitfight with the Australian Tax Office, who were trying to ping him for $150 million. And of course, the Paul Hogan show.  Not to mention the abominable Crocodile Dundee III. Leaving aside those atrocities, I'm prepared to cut Hoges a bit of slack, because if it wasn't for him, Kakadu would probably be a giant uranium mine. You see, when he made the original Crocodile Dundee, access to Kakadu wasn't much more than a dirt road leading to the mine.  Nobody went there.  Hoges changed all that. If you haven't seen Crocodile Dundee, you should.  It's far from perfect (for example, the pub, thanks to a bit of production trickery isn't in Kakadu at all, it's thousands of kilometres away in Queensland). But the scenery and indigenous heritage is the real deal. ...

Any travel writer needs to give practical, sensible advice from time to time.  Living on the road isn't all smashed avo on organic sourdough toast, you know.  Sometimes, we need to get our hands dirty with diesel. So today, I'm giving your the inside edge on hire cars, and how not to get screwed over.  Even if you're a complete cheapskate like me, and scamming free vehicles for weeks on end. The original plan was to circumnavigate Australia in a tightarse quest for The Ultimate Holiday Experience. Around 700 km west of Emerald, Queensland.  Where I dumped my tiresome travelling companion. Based on feedback, that's not going to cut the mustard.  I mean, people travel right around the country all the time, visiting tourism hotspots like Westfield Parramatta, the MCG and Ikea.  Instagram doesn't lie. So why not focus on the real Australia?  Places like Coonabarabran, Stinking Gully (often known by the more polite moniker of Ferny Gully) and M...

Fifteen years ago, I went head to head with a shark.  Sort of. I mean I came close to one. I was diving for abalone in Fortescue Bay in Tasmania's South East. It was a smallish shark, five or six feet perhaps. I don't care.  I was shit scared.  I floundered back to the boat ramp, threw my gear in the Pajero, and put my diving equipment on eBay. I hadn't been back in the water since.  Until Monday. This time, it wasn't sharks I had to keep an eye out for.  It was crocodiles - both kinds (saltwater and freshwater). Did I care?  No. That's because this was the nicest place to get wet I've ever been lucky enough to stumble across. Litchfield National Park was our first stopover on the Darwin to Brisbane jaunt.  It wasn't on the original itinerary, however thanks to input from the local brains trust, we made a detour. Kakadu gets all the kudos (and visitors), leaving Litchfield largely for the locals (nice alliteration -ed.). Florenc...

Here it is:  the best way known to join the army of oldies clogging up our highways. 1.  Go shopping.  Find the largest motorhome or caravan you think you could drive and/or back into a tight parking space, then go for the next size up. 2.  Tell all your friends you're off to 'do Australia', then head straight for Hervey Bay.  Stay there for at least six months. 3.  When you're on the road, stay below 60 km/h, even if the limit is 130 km/h.  It's safer that way. Better still, travel in convoy with at least six other Grey Nomads (from now on, I'm calling them Gonads to save typing). Tip:  for extra authenticity, consider changing your names to Brian and Pam. Actually, most Gonads are lovely people.  I count a number of Gonads amongst my closest friends. Then there are people like Brian from Shepparton, who I met last year at a remote campsite.  The Gonads had circled their Winnebago wagons blocking access to the river, so we r...