Outing #28 – Town, Women & Forest

(Monday 5-May-2015)

Approaching Furbers Steps

Approaching Furbers Steps

Alright. Outing 28. These fucking journals just go on forever. They’re like an intrusion on my life, and I dunno how people keep dairies every day, year after year, religiously.

This is the 136th journal entry.

Having walked down only Friday – and considering the rain has been pretty much constantly falling since – I haven’t much to report in regards to Forest happenings.

Of course, having not written a word since, mm, Outing 21, one might easily reach the conclusion that my time in the rainforest had come to an end, but it hasn’t: Not only have the outings been rolling-on as usual, I’ve increased the length by an additional day for each trip so I’m now down here 11 days out of 14.

Initially I ceased writing journal entries because Alice both kept me in town longer and ruined the fun when I was camping; she’d text me that people were being nasty to her, ask me to come up early and be generally demanding when she knew full-well that I cannot come up before payday because I’d already spend most/if-not-all of my money looking after her while I was in town with her. I’d buy the food and cook for us both every day as well as the usual expenses I had in town, leaving me no money to return early like she kept nagging me to do. In spite of that though, I still *wanted* to go back up whenever she’d tell me she needed me there and so – for a couple of weeks there – I just wasn’t having any fun at all being out here; all I wanted to do was walk back up the mountain and fix things for the silly bitch.

Retrospect; A crystal-clear view.

Anyhow, Alice was out the picture almost two months ago now and I just don’t care enough to write any more about her; I’m just providing context for the paragraphs above and one of the reasons I stopped writing journals for a while.

Besides there’s another woman caught my eye now, so similar to me it’s like talking to myself – and almost as gratifying; we agree on almost every ideological value that comes-up in conversation.

Where was I? Yeah right. More recently, the reason I’ve not created any entries is because I’ve been buying/downloading books and music to my phone and started carving beads and other little trinkets from the wood that’s so stunningly abundant out here.

Between the music and carving in the day and the books at night there hasn’t been much time or inclination to write. I like writing mind you, but who doesn’t like a good book right?

Anyway those are the reasons journals haven’t been getting wrote; initially because of that demanding bitch, and more recently because I’ve been doing other things to keep myself amused.

THE WEEK IN TOWN

This week's meals courtesy of here, cos the other place was closed for the week.

This week’s meals courtesy of here, cos the other place was closed for the week.

Night 1 – Tuesday

Tuesday nights dinner: Sweet & sour pork and special fried rice. Broootiful!

Tuesday nights dinner: Sweet & sour pork and special fried rice. Broootiful!

Just after I checked-in on Tuesday – when I walked out the back to sit and wait until it was time to go get dinner – she was sitting in the top patio area, reading a book if I remember correctly. I just figured she was another French tourist chick too stuck-up to talk to anyone else.

I had music to listen to plus the first cooked meal in 11 days was just one hour away so I didn’t give a shit. I walked down to the smoking area, started the playlist I was listening to and waiting for 5:00pm to roll-round.

Later that night of course, the Queenslander I got along so well with at Christmas walked in the door and – with only one bottle of red wine id already almost finished myself – I decided I’d have to walk around and buy more before the bottle-o shut at 8:00pm.

I got there in plenty of time of course, though upon arriving back at the hostel I couldn’t see the dood anywhere. I did the only thing that seemed right; continued drinking without him.

After a half hour or so though he’d returned and, careful to try and give him larger glasses than myself so he could catch-up a bit, we drunk and talked shit the rest of the night. We talked shit about a lot of things, but mostly about women – as you do.

We discussed everything from the issues we have with full-shaved brazilian waxing and how – although we like it – we wish women could take care of their own vaginas, instead of paying someone at a salon to mess around with their vagina. We talked about how racism is perfectly normal; merely an evolutionary mechanism to keep other perceived “tribal competition” away from our stuff, how feminism had left us with an awful lot of women who act more like men, and scorned the fact that political correctness had given us a population full of fucktards who all say exactly the same shit as each other.

We both agreed that homosexuality is just a sickness – a mental disorder – set upon the planet by nature: mother nature’s answer to over-population.

We were having a great old time until the duty manager walks out and says to us, “I’m calling it Boys, it’s too late.. you’re making too much noise.”

Well the Queenslander and I look straight at each other for a moment like we’ve both just been told our dogs have died; shocked we were, then we quickly apologised and told him we were wrapping it up anyhow.

“..no its already wrapped-up”, he informs us, “I’ve just found out I got a funeral to go to tomorrow, and I’ve had a call”

“From who?”, I stupidly ask, “Another guest? Here?”

The manager nods.

“WOW.”, is all I can think to say. The Queenslander says how terrible news funerals are and the manager agrees then thanks us and wanders off.

We ended-up finishing our conversation anyhow – albeit at a much lower volume level – over coffee.

Night 2 – Wednesday

Wednesday nights chow: combination steamed duck with orange sauce, french fries and garlic fried rice

Wednesday nights chow: combination steamed duck with orange sauce, french fries and garlic fried rice

What did I do Wednesday. The daytime was filled with the standards: shopping, sorting through shit, eating.

Fuck. As I try to type this, Guido is up on a branch directly above the tent just a meter away making those stupid fucking noises he makes, bluuuurggh-duh-duh-duh.. bluuuurggh-duh-duh-duh.. I’mma get out there and swing at the little fucker with a stick if he’s keeps at it it’s been going on for over half an hour straight now.

I’ll finish this later when they’re not yarping-on.

Alright he’s shut up finally.

Wednesday morning, I spoke to the new chick briefly, and found that although she was a bit of a weirdo, she wasn’t creepy or anything, and very soft spoken. Soft spoken and a little shy.

That night around dinner-time, I waited for her to get back so I could buy her Chinese; I needed to ask her whether she was vegetarian or not so I knew what to order when I went.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

I paced around out front of the building. Went inside and got another coffee, then came back outside and waited a while longer.

C’mon Babe, I just wanna feed you. *sigh*

She was still gone at around 7:00pm, so I just walked down and ordered whatever I felt like, which turned out to be garlic fried rice with steamed duck, pork, chicken and prawn and french fries with cinnamon salt and a tub of orange sauce.

Just on the off-chance she was back to eat it, I asked for two pairs of chopsticks.

She wasn’t back to eat it.

Later – at around 9pm – she arrived at the backpackers and though she wasn’t interested in the meat (vegetarian like I figured), I managed to get her to take some garlic fried rice. Whether she ate it or not I don’t know; I’d already eaten mine, so once it was heated-up and on the plate I just left it with her and went back outside.

That was that for Wednesday night; I sat outside and drunk my wine, then went to bed.

Night 3 – Thursday

Can’t remember the daytime, but in sure it was full of boring task-like outing preparations.

Come night though, I went and got my bottle of wine, heated my leftover duck dinner and sat inside the dining room like a civilised human being. It really was quite the novelty; eating inside an actual building.

Halfway through the bottle, and less than halfway through the meal, I had the guy who was in my room on night one join me. He subsequently asked for a different room because he reckons he’s allergic to the mere smell of smoke on my cloths. Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

Wanker.

Anyway he walks over to my table and raises his glass of herbal tea – as if to ask permission to join me. I say “Sure, go for it. Have a seat.”

He sits down and – within twenty minutes – tells me he’s “batting for the other team”.

Ugh.

I realise why he’s been so chatty the past few days isn’t just because of idle niceness, then feel like a woman being hit on, which isn’t terrible – I guess – except that he’s not a woman, and I’m not at all interested in anyone’s bat but my own.

I look down at my cold duck; my appetite has gone.

Nonetheless, I pour myself another wine and start talking about camping and hiking and whatever else with him as I shovel cold duck into my mouth, but – after a few minutes – my eyes start darting around the room every minute or two, looking; looking for that hippie chick with the mousy brown hair..

“..I spent my whole life doing that..”, he tells me of the success that bored him.

Where *are* you woman.

Surely she’s gotta eat sometime.

“..almost at the point now where I can do it..”

Hope she comes down tonight.

I gotta talk to her!

“..finally. I just got tired of it all.”

“Yeah, mmmm I dunno.”, I tell him.

Pouring another glass of wine, I try to refocus on the gay doods conversation for a moment but it’s just no good; I don’t wanna talk to him, I wanna talk to *her* and he can see me looking around the room for her. Probably knows exactly which her I’m looking for too.

“Anyway, that’s it I gotta go clean up. “, he tells me.

“Yeah alright, I still got packing and shit to do.”

I go outside for a smoke, then return to my room briefly to transfer the last of the food into snap-lok bags and then decide to go make another coffee. On the way through the dining room, to the kitchen, I scan the living room and see her there; sitting on a lounge with her back to the room fucking with her phone.

Who’s she texting? Sure as shit isn’t me.

She *should* be texting me.

I walk over, sit down on the lounge opposite her and demand, “What’s your story, Woman?”

“Excuse me?”, she responds.

I repeat the question.

Over the next few hours we discover that the two of us share the same starsign, neither of us give much of a shit about money, we both lack a drivers license and have never owned a car or wish to have the responsibility of driving a half-tonne killing machine around in public.

She tells me she’s led a nomadic lifestyle, and when I press her as to what that’s entailed she becomes slightly defensive but answers me anyway, somewhat evasively. I discover she’s lived in a few third-world countries.

Before long we get over the twenty questions and she tells me she has to sort through her bags to lighten her luggage; decide what to toss in the bin, what to dump at the op-shop and what to keep.

I tell her I’ll help – since I’m not at all attached to anything she owns, I’ll be able to lighten her load very quickly indeed – then go on to provide no help whatsoever; I’m so busy talking to her – right up until bedtime – I completely forget we were meant to be sorting through her stuff.

I also learnt, the reason she wasn’t here to have dinner with me last night was ’cause she was out buying a meal for some old grandpa; old enough to be her father.

Apparently this old man lives in his car, and she bought him dinner cause she felt sorry for his being an old loser or whatever – I dunno.

Anyhow, he’s the reason I was left standing there alone Wednesday night; waiting for her – cold Chinese boxes in-hand.

She went to lengths to reassure me that he isn’t romantically affiliated with her in any way, which was nice of her.

Once I’d met him the next day, too, I believed her; had a handshake like a woman, and all he did was skulk around the backpackers like a fucking morloc the whole time he was waiting for her to organize her bags. Has this stupid “man I’m so depressed, complicated and misunderstood” aura he so obviously cultivates.

What, a, wanker.

Turned out she wanted his help to pick-up stuff from err Medlow Bath (I think?), and so maybe that’s what the dinner was about; kissin arse.

I made a point of giving her my number, but stupidly forgot to even ask for hers and so I’ll just have to wait and hope she rings – or at least texts – so I can get her number and communications can continue.

Until she uses my number to give me hers, I have no contact method at all. Alternatively, if she reads this post; all comments are invisible to the public until in approved them, so if you want to write you’re number at the bottom I’ll just cut/paste it then delete the comment – nobody will see the comment but you and I.

Where was I.. yeah, she’s cute, hope she uses my number.

Last day – Friday

Friday was “back to the forest” day, and after having some fucker steal half a bag of ground coffee on me first thing in the morning, I had to switch to instant while I packed my room up; I had one hour until the 10:00am checkout deadline, and thus, just couldn’t afford to waste time getting shitty about the coffee.

About 9:58am I had all my shit outta my room and was handing my room keycard to the deskbitch. All going well to plan.

I move my bags to the lounge-room, then carry her large purple suitcase down the stairs, and the Virgo chicklet and I [Edit: She’s demanded her name be removed because she’s mental], are finalizing our bag-packing before it’s time to go; her with suitcases open all around sorting through stuff, me trying to squash and crush instant noodles to get ’em all to fit.

After a while we agreed to walk up to drop some of our bags off at a local office – good enough to store them for us – and agreed to head up there soon and do it. I’m pretty much packed now and whatever else won’t fit in my pack can go into a garbage bag separately anyway, so I go make another coffee while she continues with her stuff.

I knock-back my coffee and go to hang a piss.

Just as I’m coming out of the bathroom – headphones blaring Hendrix in my ears – I see her walking towards me. I pause the music in time to hear her telling me that there’s been a change of plans.

“Huh?”, I ask her.

“[insert grampas name here] is taking me to pickup my stuff from Medlow Bath, so I can just drop the bags off at the office on the way through.”

“Ugh. Sure, fine, wait.. So we’re not going for a walk anymore?”

She sheepishly tells me that she doesn’t need to walk up there now she’s going to be driven around by the depressive, saggy, wrinkled old fart.

This was about when the old man entered the scene; I didn’t even notice him there for a minute, ’cause he was lurking around the reception desk in a dark corner – like a spider trying to find a rock to squeeze under.

“Oh, him?”, I ask her.

She nods, and he approaches.

Soon as he’s in range I put out my hand, and after a pause of several seconds he finally responds.

I grab his hand and feel as though I’m squeezing a twitching squid.

I know all I need to know about the fucker before he snatches his hand out of mine a few seconds later.

“I’ll only be gone half an hour Jason, and I’ve got your number remember?”

“Sure”, I tell her, “that’ll be fine. Long as I’m gone by two o’clock that’s cool. I’ll see ya when you get back.”

Cow.

She takes off in his tiny, run-down little shitheap mini and I go back inside to get my day-pack so I can take it up the street and drop it off – on my own.

I ask the deskbitch if she’ll store my – now ready-to-go – camping pack for half an hour while I’m gone, and she demands that it’s a $5 flat rate per day for pack storage.

“Are you serious?? I only need it stored for half an hour!”

“I’m afraid it’s new regulations, sorry.”

Bitch!

She also refused to take responsibility for it – if I just let it where it was – saying pretty much that, verbatim.

Biiiitch!

I storm out the office and back into the living room, where I notice the same Chinese chick that was there all morning is still there – sitting in a bean-bag on the stage – playing with her ipad.

I turn to face her and ask, “Could you look after this pack for me while I’m out for a while? Hour maybe, no wait not even that; twenty minutes I’ll be?”

I expected no response really; being Chinese, she’d smiled at me a few times when I’d walked past her, but I assumed her English would be non-existent, though it couldn’t hurt to ask anyway.

To my surprise, she answered: “Sure, I’ll look after it for you no worries.”, in perfect Australian, accent and all.

Anyhow, I’m getting too bogged in detail here: The Chinese chick was from Adelaide, and after I’d got back from dropping the smaller pack off the other chick still hasn’t returned.

The Chinese girl and I got to talking – not in a chat-uppy kinda way, but I got the impression she was happy to be distracted from her tablet for a while and I was bored waiting for this woman to finally get back so we just talked shit for a while. She was born in China, but raised in Adelaide as it turns out. Beautiful girl too: lovely face, with *just* a little more meat on her than most ultra-thin Asian girls.

She had just enough meat to make her curvy; whereas most Asian chicks have rake-thin or boyish figures, she had female proportions. Yeah.

Cassie herself, has the figure of a gymnast so she’s not too shabby either.

Oh look at that, I’m “objectifying woman”. My bad.

Anyway, 2:00pm rolls by: no Cassie.

2:35pm, I check my phone and still she’s nowhere – an hour and a half late, all I do is wait for this woman.

Now, the sun starts to set here at around 4:30pm, and waiting this long for her return meant only two hours to: leave the backpackers, wait for and get the bus to Katoomba Falls, then do the several hour walk out to my camp, all *preferably* before the sun goes down completely at 5:30pm.

I’ll never make it, I think to myself.

I continue going out for a smoke, drinking coffee and chatting with the Chinese chick a while longer, until finally – at almost 3:00pm – the other woman walks in the living room, sees me on the stage and approaches.

“You’re back!”, I proclaim.

Standing just below the front of the stage she looks at me, then the Chinese chick in turn. She looks a bit distracted.

“You didn’t wait this long just for me to get back did you?”, she manages to ask.

I scoff at her, “Pfft. Nope.”

Of course, I did.

“No. How silly of course you wouldn’t”, she shakes her head slightly.

But I *did* wait for you, stupid woman. Of course; who else would I be waiting for?

I just stand right where I am, next to the Chinese chick; and stare at her. She looks at me, gives me some excuse for why she took so long – which was too quiet to really hear from up on stage where I was – then she looks at the floor, me and the Asian chick again.

“I gotta go Babe”, I tell her.

She mumbles something about not understanding, then turns around to walk away.

I remain right where I have been the whole time; standing near the Chinese chick.

*sigh*

The Chinese chick was nothing more than a time-filler while I waited for the woman I was interested in to come back, though she was very nice.

Sadly, by the time the she finally *did* return from moving her stuff, I was already way overtime and just had to go to try and beat sunset.

Tell ya though, one thing I really regret; forgetting to grab some garlic crackers from Coles before packing. Man I love those crackers.

Well, I also regret not getting her number. I was a bit soused when I wrote mine down and gave it to her on an easily lost shred of paper, but regardless; she’s the first woman who’s shown a serious interest in coming out here with me – even if just for a night or two – and only the second or third person all-up, plus I’d like her to meet my Possum family: Guido, Bobbi and Daisy at least 😉

THE RAINFOREST

The Giant Staircase: Closed

National Parks & Wildlife Service: Quick to put signs around the place, slow to do anything useful.

National Parks & Wildlife Service: Quick to put signs around the place, slow to do anything useful.

That’s right, for almost two months now the Giant Staircase has been closed for what National Parks like to call “maintenance”, though listening at the base when you walk past all I ever hear are birds: No hammers, percussion drills or man-made nose of any kind.

I’m quite sure, however, that if I were to have kids today, this maintenance on the Staircase would be competed in time for their kids to use it. Such is how things go with the NSW National Parks Service; they only ever fix things that tourists use, and even then only in their own sweet time – “weather permitting”, of course.

What this had meant to me of course, is an extra hour added to the walk out here and an hour added to the walk back up to town because I gotta walk right around the other side of the “horseshoe” to Furbers Steps, where I generally just take the tacky Scenic-world railway to get back up top.

The positive though is less traffic on my mountain generally; less morons with megaphones. I used to think it was mostly teenagers who yapped-out dumb shit or COO-EE’d their way along the top trails, but when I’m walking up there and heat shine dickhead yelling 90% of the time is some tubby middle-aged Australian chugging-off his middle-class fat-boy lunch. I raise my eyebrows at em and frown as they walk past, just so they know I think they’re immature cocksuckers.

And they *always* fall completely silent once they walk past and realize they’ve embarrassed themselves and their women or friends. Always.

One of the few occasions I've found myself out of gas.

One of the few occasions I’ve found myself out of gas.

The valley had been just as it always is. Guido, Bobby and the other Possums have visited each night and we share biscuits, crackers and fresh fruit if I have any then they hang around to squabble the rest of their night away in Marsupial “domestics” that often go for hours at a time. Good knows what they’re actually arguing about but it goes on long after the food has been eaten.

The Marsupials

Bobby chows-down on some instant noodles and fritz.

Bobby chows-down on some instant noodles and fritz.

...

20150504_220020

Little Daisy - taken last night - sitting right on my lap munching out on crackers.

Little Daisy – taken last night – sitting right on my lap munching out on crackers.

Daisy (left), and some unknown Mountain Brushtail on the right; sharing food. Something else the Common Brushtails never do.

Daisy (left), and some unknown Mountain Brushtail on the right; sharing food. Something else the Common Brushtails never do.

I think I’ve now established that the grey, fuzzy, unfortunate Possums that I believed were simply female Brushtails are, in fact, a different species.

They’re still Brushtails mind you, but Mountain Brushtails. Bobucks they’re also called, and if you look at their faces in the above photos you’ll see that Bobby has a completely different face to Daisy and her companions.

Bobby is female, I’m quite sure since there’s a pouch where Guido had testicles.

(Friday 8th-May) - Guido - beating shit out of anything that comes near his oats - demonstrates the typical possum macho-man warning posture.

(Friday 8th-May) – Guido – beating shit out of anything that comes near his oats – demonstrates the typical possum macho-man warning posture.

... and this' s who he was staring-down: A Mountain Brushtail approaching Guidos sacred pile of oats.

… and this’ s who he was staring-down: A Mountain Brushtail approaching Guidos sacred pile of oats.

Bobbi - as Guido has his stand-off with the Mountain Brushtail above - hung from the trunk just watching her man doin his stuff. Of course, Bobbi gets her arse handed to her just the same, if she tries to steal Guidos food.

Bobbi – as Guido has his stand-off with the Mountain Brushtail above – hung from the trunk just watching her man doin his stuff.
Of course, Bobbi gets her arse handed to her just the same, if she tries to steal Guidos food.

The Reptiles

Broeski – along the other Lace Monitors – have vanished as the whether has abruptly cooled-off and I haven’t seen any of their ilk for weeks now. Suits me just fine too; it was getting to the point I couldn’t even leave the tent to get water without a five foot lizard ripping holes in the tent to get at my food.

The seasons have done a full circle of course, and we’re now more than halfway through autumn so the geebungs, wombat-berries and Sarsaparilla are all fruiting. As soon as the weed-like blackberries start fruiting-up I’ll be well compensated for my lack of fruit and veges down here.

The Arachnids

Crawling up the side of my tent. The outside, so I don't mind and they just don't seem as creepy as spiders somehow; more like crabs with stingers.

Crawling up the side of my tent. The outside, so I don’t mind and they just don’t seem as creepy as spiders somehow; more like crabs with stingers.

Funnel-Web first-contact. It's only 3/4 of an inch and was found less than a foot from my pillow while making my morning coffee but in the spiders defense; being nocturnal, it had to be walking around inside the tent during the the night while I slept and it didn't bite me.

Funnel-Web first-contact. It’s only 3/4 of an inch and was found less than a foot from my pillow while making my morning coffee but in the spiders defense; being nocturnal, it had to be walking around inside the tent during the the night while I slept and it didn’t bite me.

The photo above was taken a few weeks ago, but just a few days ago – during all the rain – I saw a much larger one walking up the outside of the tent inner. Thought it was a huntsman when I saw the smudged shadow, but it was a funnel web.

Shining the head-torch on it was enough to make it turn around and leave, but even then it never ‘scurried’; it walked slowly god they’re creepy motherfuckers. Wish I have got a photo though, this one was the size of the blue plastic lid on a 2ltr milk. Chunky, thick legs, black and shiny as Onyx with a velvety beige butt.

The Mushrooms

There are just so many mushrooms out here now it's absolutely mind-boggling.

There are just so many mushrooms out here now it’s absolutely mind-boggling.

Outing #28 – Town, Women & Forest
5 Guidos (1 rating)

Jason
Animal-loving cleaner with a parrot.

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