Coming Home

As my life has sped up, my blogging has slowed down it seems.  After graduating from Tufts University this past May and taking the summer off (see my last entry), I started work in Boston at a consulting firm.  I’m having a great time; the work is varied and challenging, and the people I work with are smart, motivated, and fun.  I’m learning a lot, honing my analysis (and Excel and PowerPoint) skills, and developing both personally and professionally.  I feel very fortunate to be where I am and am trying to make the most of it.  But even with all the work, it’s important to me that I not lose sight of the other things that matter to me.

Since I was a little kid, I’ve enjoyed spending time outside.  I grew up in the Cub Scouts and then the Boy Scouts, and went on hiking trips with my father (and sometimes even my grandfather).

My grandfather, my father and me after finishing a successful climb of Mt. Whitney

Additionally, I spent a lot of time at my family’s piece of land in East Texas.  Although I didn’t actually live there, in a lot of ways, I grew up there.  And even though it isn’t very frequently now, I try to visit as often as I can.  What surprises me every time I go is how fast some things change and how slowly others do.

Spending time there reminds me of just how powerful and persistent a force nature is.  It’s amazing to me how fast fields get overgrown and just how quickly the forest takes back the trails that my family and I have cleared.  It really doesn’t take long for briars to engulf a barbed wire fence, for trees to grow, or for stumps to rot.  It’s hard to appreciate nature’s tenacity without seeing the same plot change over time.  And sometimes, if I’m lucky, I’ll stumble across a relic that reminds me just how much history this land holds.  Small things.  A piece of a mason jar lid; an oak tree with a strand of old barbed wire almost totally engulfed in its trunk; a flowering plant just enough out of place that it must have been planted by hand out in front of some long forgotten homestead.

A 1940s-era map of the area. New roads have been built, old roads have been abandoned, and many of the homesteads that appear on this map have totally disappeared.  Photo from US Census Bureau

One of the trees on our fence. It has grown up between the wires.

There used to be a fence here…

…here’s a piece of wire from that old fence. The tree has entirely consumed it.

A rusty gear on an old oil pumpjack nearby

One of the fields, after mowing. (Notice the red gate)

The same field, after the grass has grown up. (The same red gate is visible)

Which reminds me.  For all the things that change so quickly, some things seem to change beautifully slowly.  Take my neighbor, Mr. Turner.  He grew up on this land, and now, as an adult, he’s come back.  Every time I drive by, his jeep is parked out front and it makes me smile.  Or my other neighbor, who lives so far back in the woods that package delivery services won’t make deliveries to his door, and who likes it that way.  Or Mr. Williams, whose homemade tamales and fried pies have been a local staple for years and who, just this month, was profiled in the local co-op power magazine (the article itself can be downloaded here and starts on page 22).  If you ever find yourself in rural East Texas, he’s only 30 minutes north of Interstate 20.  Take FM 14 through Hawkins (if you hit Pine Mills, you’ve gone too far) and take a right on county road 3940.  And make sure you ask him how long his family has been in the tamale business.

It may not look like much, but the food is great and the stand is licensed and regularly inspected.

After a week’s vacation though, it’s time to get back to work.  As much as I miss my family when I’m in Boston, I now also miss my work, my colleagues, and the life that I’m building for myself when I’m away.

My East Texas rescue dog, Hank, making himself comfortable on my couch in Boston.

 

Best,

Isaac

Cowboys and Consultants

I’ve been thinking a lot recently.  But that’s probably pretty healthy — there’s a lot of change going on in my life right now.  It’s been over a year since I started this blog, and unlike everything else it seems, this blog has been pretty constant.  Even if the entries haven’t been quite regular, it stands as a chronicle of my semester abroad in Australia (I had the pleasure of working as a Student Ambassador through the Australian Trade Commission).  But I’ve been home for some time now, and I’ve gotten into new adventures that I want to share.  I thought about starting a new blog, and if I had had any foresight, I would have named this one something more specific than just “theisaacfreemanblog”.  But hindsight is 20/20 and instead of starting fresh on “theotherisaacfreemanblog”, this one will just have to adapt and change.  Just like me.   The photos in this entry are also a little different than those in previous entries.  I didn’t have my camera with me to take pictures most of the time.  So instead of photos by me, the photos are mostly of me.  I prefer the former, but given that these are most of what I have, I decided they were more interesting than no photos at all.

Since I haven’t posted in a while, I guess I should set the scene.  Up until recently, I was a student at Tufts University  majoring in Quantitative Economics, minoring in Political Science and Entrepreneurial Leadership, and writing my senior honors thesis on the effect of foreign competition in the domestic full-size pickup truck market.  But graduation day has come and gone, and I have officially become a Tufts alumnus, closing one chapter in my life and opening up another.  Currently, I’m sitting in my first ‘real’ apartment, on the couch with my dog, Hank, waiting to start my new job next week.  I’ll be working as an associate consultant in one of Boston’s management consulting firms, and I’m extremely eager to get started.  After four years, it will be strange not walking around the campus of Tufts daily next semester, but I’m ready for the change.  It’s an exciting time for me, to say the least.

But rewind a few months and I was a freshly minted college graduate staring ‘real life’ in the face.  It was sobering to think that (if I’m lucky) those next few months would likely be one of the last extended work-free periods that I will have until I retire somewhere down the line.

Rewind a few months before that, and I was just starting to think about how I wanted to spend this last remaining free summer.  Maybe it had something to do with growing up in Texas, but the one thing I knew that I would regret not doing was working on a cattle ranch.  Yeah, I wanted to be a cowboy.  Unfortunately, a cowboy who can’t ride, can’t rope, and can’t doctor animals isn’t a lot of use to your average cattle outfit.  For the record, I wasn’t looking for a dude ranch.  I didn’t want a cushy bed or fancy meals.  What I wanted was the most realistic experience that I could get, given my lack of marketable skills of course.  A lot of searching finally led me to the Arizona Cowboy College.  As it turns out, they are all about helping people learn about what it really takes to be a cowboy.  No fancy accommodations, no gourmet meals, just a lot of new opportunities to learn a lot of new skills on a working ranch.  I guess you could call it a summer camp of sorts, but it was my only window into a world that I have always wanted to experience.  Another perk of the college was the opportunity to ride and train with Rocco Wachman.  He is not only an excellent horseman and leatherworker, but also is known for co-hosting several seasons of Country Music Television’s Cowboy U.

Looking for wild cows with Rocco Wachman.

The spur straps Rocco made for me.

All told, my cowboy adventure lasted about a month.  After I finished the course itself, I had the opportunity to stay around and help out in exchange for riding lessons when the staff had free time.  I expected to learn a lot of ranch skills, and I did, but what I hadn’t expected to learn was a little something about life.  I’m convinced that what I learned down there in Arizona will help me to be more effective up here in Boston.  While I’m still no cowboy, in the time since I’ve left, I’ve mentally boiled my experience down to five key points that I really took away:

LESSON 1: It’s good to be confident, but don’t overstate your abilities.

Sooner or later, it’s going to become very clear what you know and what you don’t.  You can save yourself a lot of trouble, embarrassment, and sometimes pain if you are honest up front.  As I discovered on the ranch, whether it was backing up a gooseneck trailer, tacking up horses, or helping shoe, most everybody was happy to show me the right way to do something.  But, there was little tolerance for doing the wrong thing because I didn’t ask.  This was especially true when an easily preventable mistake could injure someone, hurt livestock, or break equipment.  I spend the majority of my first day just listening, watching, and asking questions.  I have no doubt that doing so saved me much pain and embarrassment later on in the month.

LESSON 2: Seek out every opportunity to learn, including the dirty work.

Trimming a hoof before nailing on a new shoe.

As I had expected, very little of ranch work is glamorous.  Stalls have to be cleaned, water buckets have to be kept full, manure has to be moved around by the tractor-load, fences need fixing, livestock need attention, and a thousand other things need to be taken care of.  But in every task, there is an opportunity to learn something, even if that opportunity isn’t quite obvious at first.  For example, I spent a good amount of time filling water buckets with a hose each day.  It didn’t take a lot of intellectual horsepower, but it gave me extra time one on one with the horses to watch them and begin to learn more about their behavior.

Another part of this, for me, was always keeping an open mind.  As I said, little of ranching is glamorous, but certain aspects are especially unglamorous.  I’ll skip the specifics, but some of this work involves shoulder-length gloves (I think I’ll skip the pictures here too).  Even if it isn’t worth doing just for the experience, I’d rather be known for a willingness to do whatever needs to be done rather than for being above certain chores.

Fixing a jump.

LESSON 3: Respect.

Riding a fantastic horse named Billy.

It may be a little trite, but it’s easy to underestimate the importance of respect: respect for yourself and others, respect for animals, and if my time in the Boy Scouts taught me anything, respect for nature.  Age, sex, background, and other attributes have no bearing on respect.  One of my instructors was a girl several years my junior, but with much more riding experience than I.  Her age had nothing to do with her ability to ride or teach.  Everyone is worthy of respect, and it behooves people to give that respect where it is due.  Livestock is no exception either: if you go anywhere on horseback, you didn’t get there by yourself.  As in life, it’s always good to recognize and appreciate those that helped you get where you are, even if it isn’t usually quite so literal.

On the ranch and elsewhere, I’ve also found that a hearty respect for nature is very helpful.  Nature can be beautiful but also extremely unforgiving, and whether it’s 110 degrees and sunny or 15 degrees and snowing, it’s never wise to discount the weather.  Be it heat exhaustion or snarled traffic, despite many modern conveniences, nature still finds a way to impact our lives.

The natural beauty of Arizona.

LESSON 4: Take Calculated Risks.

Although risk levels vary, nothing in life is risk free. Whether it’s riding on horseback, starting a new job, investing, parachuting, or watching TV, the goal in life isn’t to avoid risk, but rather to manage it.  In my experience, horse people are quick to mention that equine activities, in particular, are inherently risky.  That doesn’t mean that they are to be avoided, but rather that the risks are to be acknowledged and mitigated when possible.  A little fear can be helpful, but only when it’s constructive and not debilitating.  It’s important to try new and different things, but to do so without regard for the potential consequences can be foolish.

Out riding in the desert.

Exercising a young filly.

LESSON 5: Downtime is Important.

I really value and enjoy hard work, both mental and physical, but doing the same kind of work over and over can be dreary and even counterproductive.  Every so often, people need to unwind. For me, I find that one of the best remedies for mental exhaustion is physical exhaustion.  Whether it’s a jog before class or a hike in the mountains on the weekends, there is something extremely refreshing about physical work.  My month on the ranch was just the reset I needed to be ready to give 100% next week when I start work.

Like most of my entries, this one seems to have ended up a little longer than I originally anticipated, but I hope it was enjoyable.  As always, please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think!  In the mean time, you’ll have to excuse me.  I need to change out of my jeans and into a pair of khakis.

Cheers,

Isaac

Here are a few extra photos that I really liked but couldn’t find a home for anywhere else in the post:

 

One of my instructors.

My favorite mule, Molly.

The Walls of Jerusalem (Tasmania!)

This will be the final Australia entry for this blog. In fact, I’ve been back in the states for months now, but it’s really been nagging me that I never quite finished blogging about my Australian semester in Brisbane. I’m debating whether or not to continue blogging on this site about my other travels, or if I should just let it stand as is. I guess we’ll see… For those who haven’t been following this blog, I will try to summarize. I started this blog, in conjunction with the University of Queensland and the Australian Trade Commission, when I decided to leave Tufts University for a semester and study abroad in Australia. I’ve been fascinated with Australia since childhood when I used to watch the Crocodile Hunter, so it was the natural study abroad choice for me. This blog is the story of my life abroad. I like the outdoors and I like taking photos, so if you like reading about those who like the outdoors, like looking at outdoorsy photos, or are yourself thinking about studying abroad in Australia, you might want to consider taking a few minutes to read this blog (or at least look at the pictures). It might make more sense to read it in reverse-order so you can track my progress over the semester.

For those of you who have been following this blog (thank you), when I last blogged, I had just gotten back from Armidale, and was busy preparing for exams. This entry is about my final few weeks in Australia.

To set the scene, I got back from Armidale on Thursday, June 9th,and wanted to squeeze in one last adventure before heading home. My finals schedule was as follows: I had my Introduction to International Relations exam on June 18th, and my final two exams (Industrial Economics and Australia’s Terrestrial Environment) on Friday the 24th, giving me just enough time to get ready for my flight to New York on the 26th, in preparation for starting my internship in the city on the 29th. Wow. Originally, I also had a paper for my Indigenous Politics and Policy class due on the 11th, which would have coincided nicely with a trip to Tasmania that I had carefully planned to avoid interference with my finals (the 12th through the 16th). However, the deadline got moved to Monday the 13th. Although this was good because it gave me a little more time to get my essay just the way I liked it, but bad because it meant that I would have to submit it from somewhere in Tasmania.

Before I go any further, I do want to talk a bit about my decision to travel to Tasmania. My academic success is very important to me, so I want to point out that it was not a flippant decision to travel during finals period. On the contrary, I spent a lot of time considering all the alternatives (including not going) and decided that I could make it work. I had it all worked out. I was to return to Brisbane on the 16th, which would give me plenty of time to study for an exam on the 18th, and nearly a week to study for my final two exams. As it turned out, everything did, in fact, work out just like it was supposed to, but just barely. If I hadn’t spent all my money on the trip itself, it would have been a great day for a lottery ticket, but more on that later… The whole idea of the Tasmanian trip was that I wanted to go camping one last time before I went home. I’d camped in New Zealand, I’d hiked in many parts Australia, but Tasmania had eluded me. And in the early winter, I’d heard it was snowy and beautiful. I looked online and found a suitable national park – the Walls of Jerusalem. For me, it was perfect. It was remote (the park has no direct road access), but also close enough to civilization to make a speedy exit possible if the conditions were worse than expected. I know everyone thinks of Australia as being a dry and hot continent, but Tasmania is anything but. It is beautifully forested, it is lush, and in the winter, it is proper cold. According to the ranger I spoke with, I was probably early enough in the season to get by without snowshoes, but I would definitely be hiking and camping in the snow. The plan was to spend two nights out in the mountains, with the option of coming back to town earlier if need be. Somehow, nobody at college seemed interested in joining me, so I decided to do it alone. Their loss, right? Apparently, preparing for exams had me living under a rock, because somehow I missed the fact that a volcano in the Puyehue-Cordon Caulle range had erupted in Chile. More relevant to my situation was the fact that this volcano’s ash cloud had been circulating the southern hemisphere and was heading straight for Tassie, an important piece of information that I had also missed. In fact, I found out about all of this as the cabin door was closing on my Virgin Airways flight to Lauceston, Tasmania. More pertinent to my situation at the time was that JetStar (my return airline) had cancelled all flights in and out of Tasmania until further notice. But at that point, there was no way to turn back. Return ticket or not, I was on my way to Tasmania. I had a little time to think on the flight, and I decided that, since nothing I could do would change anything, there was no reason to waste energy worrying. My flight to Tasmania also convinced me of another thing – Tasmanians are an incredibly generous breed. On the flight, the man sitting next to me, whom I had never seen in my life, started chatting with me, and within an hour, offered to let me stay with him at his house. Unfortunately, a visit didn’t fit into my plans, but the strange part was that this was the second Tasmanian who had opened his home to me, and I hadn’t even landed! And when I did finally get to the Tasmanian airport, I discovered another interesting thing (this also applies to Australia as a whole, but to a lesser extent): Tasmania seems more concerned with any apples that you might potentially be carrying than any potential explosives. I definitely understand why, given the sensitive agriculture, but, after dealing with US airport security for so long, the change of focus was a little comical.

I drove through Railton, Tasmania, which bills itself as the "Town of Topiary" This one is for Tufts! (Jumbo the elephant is Tufts' mascot)

Once on the Tassie side of customs, I picked up my rental car and made a beeline for the mountains. The weather was gorgeous at the airport, but as I began to drive toward the mountains, it began to cool off. By the time I got to my campground (I decided it would be a good idea to camp before heading off into the mountains just to make sure I didn’t accidentally forget anything vital), I was driving through the snow. After setting up my tent, I found a power outlet in the campground kitchen and spent a few hours putting the final touches on my essay. After a rather chilly night camping in the snow, I packed up and prepared to find a place with wifi to submit my essay, as well as a place to buy my groceries for the camping trip. In the end, I found wifi at a ritzy lodge nearby and groceries at the town halfway between my campsite and the Walls of Jerusalem campground. By the time all was said and done, it was a little later than I had hoped. I didn’t make it to the Walls parking lot until about four in the afternoon. Not to be deterred, I packed up my gear and headed up the trail. Fortunately, the trail was good and I was making reasonable time. In fact, the Walls parking lot must have been lower in altitude than where I had camped the night before because there was no snow. An hour or so into the hike, with the sun beginning to set, I ran across an older couple hiking out toward the parking lot. In our brief exchange, they essentially told me it would be difficult to make it all the way to the campground that night. They recommended spending the night at an old trappers’ hut about halfway between where I was and where I wanted to be. I really wasn’t wild about spending the night in the hut (the map makes it clear that doing so is prohibited except in cases of emergency), but I decided to keep the option on the table and press on. I reached the hut just as it was getting dark. I still hadn’t seen any snow, and I was feeling good, so I got out my headlamp and continued hiking. I wasn’t two hundred meters beyond the hut when I started to notice the first little patches of snow on the ground. Within another 500 meters, the ground was completely covered, but I decided to keep going. According to the map, the trail was supposed to flatten out, so I figured I would be able to make good time, even in the dark. The trail was well trampled in most places, and there were occasional reflective markers on the trees. I was still feeling good, the trail did flatten out, and my trusty GPS was tracking in my backpack, so I kept on. But, the longer I hiked, the more concerned I was that I had missed something and accidentally passed the campsite, or worse, was just completely turned around. Just as my fears were about to get the best of me, I saw a flash of light in the distance. Then I saw it again. It was a head lamp! It was still a ways off, but I made good time over a relatively clean trail until I finally made it to the tent platforms. Apparently, the couple that had been kind enough to shine the light for me saw my light as they were going to sleep and thought I must be crazy or lost (or both, I guess) and they wanted to make sure that I had a destination to hike towards. Much relieved to be done for the night, I set up my tent in quick order and made myself some tea before going to bed. As an aside, it is always a good idea to pat down the snow underneath where you are going to camp. I’m still a little new to snow camping and neglected to do this. Never again. When you sit down in the tent, your behind compresses the snow and leaves a little crater. As you crawl around on your knees inside the tent unpacking your sleeping bag and preparing for bed, you invariably end up with more little craters wherever you put your knees. By the time it’s time to go to sleep, the entire floor is pockmarked with all the little craters you’ve created. I’ve never tried, but I imagine it’s probably a lot like trying to sleep in the ball pit at McDonalds – very uncomfortable. When the morning came, I was happy to see that the day was beautiful and clear. I was less happy to see that my leather boots, which I had placed immediately outside my tent, had frozen solid from the combination of sweat and melted snow from the hike in. I’m still learning how to combat the frozen boots. Its easy with my Koflach mountaineering boots because the booties come out and you can put them in your sleeping bag, but I don’t really want to sleep with my soggy leather boots. Maybe putting them inside the tent would have been better… At any rate, after a few minutes of walking around camp, the boots started to flex, and by the time I had finished my brekkie and was done chatting with my light-shining campsite neighbors, my feet were even starting to warm up.

Isaac cooking in the snow

In good spirits, I started up the trail to Mount Jerusalem. Unfortunately, as I was walking, every few steps, the frozen top layer of snow I was walking on would give way and I would up shin-deep in snow. In my infinite wisdom, I hadn’t thought that I would need mountaineering gaiters for a semester in Australia, but I guess that’s what I get for making generalisations. I kept thinking that I really needed to invent something that would make my feet bigger so I wouldn’t fall through the snow, and how wonderful that would be. Then it occurred to me that such a thing already existed. And they were called snowshoes. Unfortunately, as far as I was concerned, it didn’t matter if they existed or not, because either way, I didn’t have any. As I continued up the trail, it got less obvious. Soon, I was only following a single pair of footprints. They led me up over a saddle on the way to Mt. Jerusalem. But eventually, they too ran out and I found myself breaking my own trail.

The tiny sticker is a little lame, but I liked the sentiment

After about 15 minutes of post-holing alone through snow up to my knees and trying to navigate a trail that I had never seen before, it finally dawned on me that the endeavor might be a little foolish. I decided, in the interests of safety and getting back to camp before dark, to leave Mount Jerusalem for another day and summit on of the sides of the saddle I had traversed on the way in instead. One side of the saddle was a sheer rock face, which was a little above my skill level (although I told my friend Toby that he has to climb it some day), so I decided to opt for the other side. It wasn’t a long climb, but the view was spectacular. It’s very rare that I summit any sort of mountain alone, so spending time by myself on such a remote (by my standards) peak was really cool and humbling. It reminds you just how little and fragile you are, and I highly recommend that everyone experience some sort of feeling like that at least once in his or her life. (There are actually two people in the following photo – see if you can find them and post a comment if you can. HINT: look for the shadows) I took a few pictures and decided that it was time to get down before it started to get dark. Like the hike up, the hike back to camp was snowy and cold (but fun!). It was made even more fun though by the wallabies I kept seeing and also by the headlight couple that I ran into.

Tasmania's version of the marmot

We ended up hiking back together, swapping stories, and engaging in what must be one of the most popular Aussie past times: making fun of the Kiwis (I actually really adore New Zealand and the Kiwis, but when in Rome…). By the time I got back to the tent, I was absolutely beat. I made a quick dinner of ramen noodles and went right to bed. I was a little sad that my entire study abroad journey was coming to a close, but I was excited to be spending one of my last few days in Australia out in the woods doing what I love. The next morning, I got up, packed up, and hiked out back through the snow, then the trees, all the way back to the car.  Without the reflections from my headlamp, most of the trail markers seemed to actually less visible in the daytime.

Can YOU see the trail marker?

When I got back to the car, it was back to reality for me. I had been dreading getting back to the car and the radio, because I didn’t want to hear about any new flight cancellations. When I turned on the radio station as I headed back to town, they were indeed talking about the ash clouds and flights. As it turned out, the day I was flying out was the first day of regularly scheduled flights, which meant that I was going to, by sheer luck, make it back in time for my exams. If the ash cloud had lingered just one more day, my flight would have been cancelled and I would have been added to the already monstrous waiting list for flights out. Sometimes you just get lucky I guess. I had one last day in Launceston before flying back to Brisbane, so I did a little exploring. I found some really fascinating old factories,

Just an old factory

A rusty beam and a few bolts at an old factory in Launceston

an interesting church,

I really liked this church

I thought the lack of contrast with the grey sky was kind of interesting.

and this intense-looking monkey.

One Intense looking monkey

But I think, more than anything, this next photo really summarizes everything about Tasmania.

Yep, that pretty much sums it up

Back in Brisbane, I finished the rest of my exams and started thinking about heading home. With the benefit of hindsight that I have by writing this blog now, there are so many things I wish I had done in my last remaining days. I never did end up making it to Melbourne, Kakadu, or Perth, my Aussie accent was still terrible, and I no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t pull off the rugby shorts and thongs (what Aussies call flip-flops) look. But hey, I guess that just means that I’ll have to go back sooner or later. I had the fourteen hour plane ride home to start planning the next trip. If you’ve actively followed this blog, or even if this is the first time you’re reading it, thank you. This, unfortunately, concludes my Aussie adventures, but I don’t think this blog is going to end here. I’m having too much fun writing it.

Cheers,

Isaac Freeman

My Week in Armidale

First of all, I’d like to really apologise for getting a little behind on my blogging, ok, maybe a lot behind…  But it’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks, so please bear with me.  To be honest, I’ve started writing this blog entry probably ten times now, but its always been at a train station or a bus stop or something, and I always seem to be interrupted before I can get anything meaningful out of my head and onto my laptop.  But this time, it’s going to happen.

Lets see, that little teaser post aside, I haven’t posted since I got back from Byron Bay.  Well, let me tell you that A LOT has happened since then!  In chronological order: I spent a week with Toby at his house in Armidale, took an exam, flew to Tasmania, submitted a paper from a campground, spent 2 nights backpacking in the snow, barely made it back to Brisbane between volcanic ash clouds, took two more exams, flew to New York, got finger printed and drug tested (don’t worry – I passed both) in preparation for my summer internship, which started two days later.  That Friday, I flew down to Dallas after work, and drove back up to New York in time to unpack my car into my apartment.  After working all week, I spent the weekend in Boston, driving both ways.      It’s been a little hectic to say the least.  But now that things are starting to slow down, ever so slightly, I decided I had better update y’all!

I guess where I left off would be a good place to pick up.  To make all this more digestible, I’ll try to split all this catching up into a few blog entries.  I’ll cover my trip to Toby’s house in this one.  The week following my return from Byron was pretty uneventful, although it was my last week of classes, which made me a little sad, because I started to realise just how little time I had left in Oz.  The highlight of the week was definitely the Faculty of Business Economics and Law’s study abroad departure meeting.  Not only did we get nifty polo shirts and free Aussie food, but the school also hired a critterman to entertain us with all kind of strange Aussie fauna.   Although the wombat was pretty funny, I think my favourite was probably the blonde possum.  Isn’t it so cute?

I also realised that I really couldn’t leave Oz without attending at least one rugby game, and time was getting short, so I decided to watch the Queensland Reds play a game at Suncorp Stadium.  I’ll admit that I didn’t completely understand what was going on, but the penalties were hilarious.  I think my favourite was “failing to remain on feet”.  I kept thinking “What do you expect?  Did you see the size of the guy that just ran into him??  He was THROWN off his feet!”.  A few of those gems are below:

I also found a YouTube video of the game, if you’re curious.  Its the highlights reel of two games that season.  The game I watched is the second one and starts halfway through.  Among the highlights of the highlights were a few improbably tries (touchdowns) and, unfortunately, a pretty serious knockout.

The rest of the week was pretty tame as I just tried to prepare for my various exams and papers and the like before I caught a bus down to Armidale to meet up with Toby.  Brisbane to Armidale is roughly seven hours, and it’s an overnight bus.  But, I was determined to stay awake so that I could make a speedy exit when the bus got to my stop, to save everyone else from waiting (I was the only one getting off there).  Great idea, terrible execution.  Despite my best efforts, I ended up falling asleep probably 10 minutes before my stop, and didn’t wake up until the bus pulled over on the side of the road.  In my sleepy state, I managed to leave both my favourite hat and my headphones on the bus, and didn’t realise it until it was too late.  It’s a little sad, but I miss that $5 hat more than my noise cancelling headphones.  That was the hat I ran the Boston Marathon in, and it has hours of sweat equity in it from working at my farm in Texas.  So if anybody happens to see a greasy, beat up, red Tractor Supply Company hat on a Greyhound bus in Australia, you know who to call.  I really would like it back…

Actually, that’s not wholly true.  At the risk of getting a little too philosophical about something that really doesn’t deserve so much thought, I guess its kind of fitting that the hat left with such a cool story.  I mean as far as hat-stories go, its hard to beat being left on an overnight bus in a country halfway around the world.   I mean, if I hadn’t lost it, it would have probably ended up on a shelf collecting dust somewhere, too sentimental to throw away or to continue to use.

The next morning, after arriving in Armidale, I had to earn my keep.  After a brekkie of Vegemite on toast (I hate to admit it, but its been growing on me…) we had to shift some cattle around.  Did I mention that Toby’s Scottish Highland Cattle are some of the cutest cattle that I’ve seen in a while?  How could you not love that face?

After we moved ‘em all around, Toby and I decided to go rock climbing.  If you’ve read my other entries, you know that Toby and I have climbed before, but never quite like this.  Let me explain, when we got to the rock face, that’s all there was — a rock face.  There were no safety anchors; there were no other people; there wasn’t even a trail.  But, fortunately, it wasn’t particularly steep, and I had (and still have) a great amount of trust in Toby’s ability to keep us both alive.  As the better climber, he led the way, setting pieces of safety protection along the way.  When we ran out of rope, he found a nice little ledge, about halfway up, anchored himself in, and then I climbed up the way he had, removing the protection as I went.

When I reached his little perch, we both got re-situated, and repeated the process of him climbing while I half sat there, half hung in my harness, belaying him.  Once he got to the top, I again climbed his route, cleaning the gear out along the way.  As I neared the top, I grabbed a large piece of granite and discovered something very interesting.  It was loose!  I had enough strength to hold it in place until I was sure that Toby and I were both out of the way.  I yelled “ROCK!”, and let it go.  I watched in horror as this rock, which probably weighed a good 40 pounds, tumbled down the face, tearing through both places where I had been belaying Toby from minutes earlier.  If Toby had knocked that rock loose, I don’t want to think what have might happened to me.  But I guess climbing is like anything else in life.  You recognise the risks, take the appropriate precautions (we were both wearing helmets and had good equipment), and then go out and live your life.  We got back to Toby’s house a few minutes after dark, just in time for a fantastic dinner, courtesy of Toby’s mom.

The next morning, we got up early to do a little more farm work.  I found out that the reason we had moved the cattle the day before was because Aragon, Toby’s bull, had been sold, and needed to be separated out so that he could be loaded onto a truck.  Fortunately for Aragon, he’s more valuable as a stud bull than as hamburger…

After packing some lunches, Toby broke out one of his climbing books, handed it to me, and said something like “how about that one?” and pointed to a climb called “Flight of the Bumbly”.  According to the guidebook, it’s just shy of 150 feet long.  If you’re curious, you can read the actual guidebook here.

When we got there, I realised that 150 feet is a lot higher than it sounds.  Because there wasn’t any easy access to the bottom, we decided the best way to attack the climb was by top-roping it.  Basically, Toby built a really bomber anchor using the two existing bolts, a tree, a cam, and a giant hexcentric (basically a big metal chock) and then descended down the rope.  The interesting thing was that he wasn’t positive that his rope was long enough to reach the bottom, so for safety, he tied the end of it into his harness.  That way, no matter what, he wouldn’t slide off the end.  As he descended, he disappeared through the trees and I lost sight of him.  But eventually, the rope went loose, which meant he was probably on the ground.  Interestingly, I discovered that I couldn’t understand what he was saying (the echoes were too bad) from where I was, so we basically had to do everything by feel.  It was kind of scary, but a very neat experience.  Once I had readjusted the ropes to put Toby on belay, I tightened up the rope, so he knew I had him and that he could start climbing.  As the day progressed, I could keep track of Toby’s progress by how often the rope went slack.  I couldn’t see him, but the more slack there was, the faster he was climbing.  Then, all of the sudden, it went really tight, and stayed that way.  After about 10 minutes with no progress, I started to worry if something bad had happened.  I was actually starting to tie him off so I could go get help when I noticed that the rope had gone slack again!  Within short order, Toby was back on the ledge and I decided to take a crack at the climb.  Partly because it was getting dark, and partly because I am a much inferior climber, I only went down half way before climbing back up.  Good thing too, because I still didn’t finish until it was well into dusk.

The climb starts on the face behind Toby

By the way, as it turned out, the reason why the rope went so tight was because Toby had climbed up under an overhang, and then slipped off the face, which left him hanging in mid air by the rope, unable to reach the bottom, the top, or the wall of the cliff.  With only one option, he pulled out two prussic cords (little cords that, when used with a special knot, grip the rope), and more or less shrimped his way up the rope until he was back on the rock face.  Ascending ropes isn’t pretty, but that doesn’t make it any less of a necessary skill.  At any rate, after another home cooked meal, Toby and I retired to our rooms for some well needed rest…

The next day (and my last full day in Armidale) was a little more relaxed than the previous ones.  Toby and I spent some time puttering around his far on a quad bike (or 4-wheeler, depending on where you’re from), before meeting one of his friends in town for coffee and a meat pie (I went for the steak and kidney…).  By the way, did I mention that Toby is also a volunteer fire-fighter?  The more I get to know this kid, the more respect I have for him.  Anyway, he must have figured out that I liked trucks, because he took me by the fire department’s garage so I could play around on the fire trucks.  I’m nearly 22 years old now, and I still like playing with fire trucks…

As my time in Armidale, and indeed Australia, was wrapping up, Toby decided he had one more adventure up his sleeve for me: mountain biking on a trail that he had made.  Toby comes for a family of mountain bikers, so I got to ride his father’s bike.  I don’t know a lot about bikes, but I know enough to know that this one was nice: extra-fat tires, clip in pedals, hydraulic disc brakes, carbon fibre frame, dual suspension, and the list went on.  I was afraid to crash… not because I might get injured, but because IT might get injured.  Fortunately, we both came out unscathed (barely – it was my first foray into clip pedals – through a forest, at dusk, no less) and it was a great end to my stay in Armidale.  The next morning, we all got up early, packed a few sandwiches, and off we went back to UQ and back into the real world of studying for exams.  But that’s the topic of my next blog…

Again, sorry for the delay in getting this one online.  As things continue to settle down, I’ll try my best to get back to my normal publishing schedule.

Here are a few other photos from the trip.  The first two are Toby’s.  Absolutely beautiful photos.  The lighting was perfect and the composure is top notch!

Toby's Photo. Look at that buttery background! (I was borrowing Toby's Father's micro lens on my D80) - His father bought the lens to photograph sea slugs for his PhD thesis!

Toby's Photo

Thanks again for reading!

Cheers,

-Isaac Freeman

Just a Teaser Photo…

Hey Guys,

So just like the title says, this is just a teaser post (which is, incidentally, just a thinly veiled attempt to buy a little more time before my next ‘real’ post).  Basically, I just got off of a 2 night backpacking trip in the Tasmanian Bush, and I’m headed back to Brisbane tomorrow (assuming the ash cloud blows over like it’s supposed to **fingers crossed**).  Then, I’ve got a few exams before I head back to the states.  Don’t worry, I’ve decided to keep blogging though .  At any rate, hold tight until I get a little more time to breathe and blog, because I’m chock full of stories from rock climbing in Armidale and winter camping in Tasmania!

Until next time.

Cheers,

Isaac Freeman

My Groovy Weekend in Byron Bay

Sorry for being a little slow to post recently, with the end of the semester getting closer, things are getting a little bit hectic, especially as I’m trying to plan all of my last minute adventures (hold tight for Armidale and Tasmania)!

Everybody had been telling me that I absolutely HAD to see Byron Bay.  Even my Lonely Planet guide says, “Byron Bay’s reputation precedes it like no other place in Australia: it’s a gorgeous town where the trademark laid-back, New Age populace lives an escapist, organic lifestyle against a backdrop of evergreen hinterland and never-ending surfable coastline,” (Vaisutis et al, 195).  And since it’s only a two-hour bus-ride away, how could I pass it up?  So I booked my bus, packed my bag, and off I went exploring.

When I got off the bus on Saturday morning, sure enough, it was pretty groovy. There were more dreadlocks, hippies, and backpackers than I could shake a stick at – there were even advertisements for professional dreadlockers!

The shoeless-by-choice-not-necessity were out in full force, and a rainbow-painted tour bus drove by pumping all kinds of groovy tunes.  Coming from Brisbane, it was a sight to behold.  It was drizzling though, so I wanted to get to my hostel before my pack got wet.  After dropping my stuff off in my room, I went exploring around town.  Byron did not cease to amaze me.  As I was walking down the main street, I noticed a couple, who I don’t think were wearing anything that wasn’t organic and sustainable, walking in the other direction.  But what surprised me most was that the woman was breast-feeding her child while walking down the street.  Don’t get me wrong, breastfeeding is a healthy and natural thing, and I have no objection to breastfeeding in public.  I was just a little surprised that this woman chose to do it while walking down the main tourist drag.  But hey, more power to her!  My next ‘welcome to Byron’ was at Subway – after making my meat-containing sub, the sandwich artist (I think that’s what Subway calls them) went to go put the vegetables on the sandwich belonging to the woman in front me (which was an avocado and cheese sandwich).  At any rate, the woman requested that the artist change her gloves before proceeding.  Again, I’ve got no problem with vegetarianism and veganism.  I think that both are legitimate and very healthy alternative diets, but I’ve just never experienced that at Subway before.  It was eye opening, and helped me appreciate just how hard it is in Western society to have any sort of dietary restrictions (be they veganism, gluten-intolerance, allergies, etc…).

After lunch, I headed out to the beach for an afternoon of ocean kayaking.  I’d never done anything like it before, but it was an absolute blast!  The surf was just rough enough to be fun but not rough enough to be dangerous.  We even saw wild dolphins playing in the waves.  It was incredibly fun, but after only a few hours, I was totally exhausted.  After a snack of chocolate ‘bikkies’ and hot cocoa, we headed back to the beach to pack up the kayaks.

Earlier in the day, I had seen poster advertising a free African Drumming Festival, so I figured I’d check it out.  It ended up being pretty relaxed but a lot of fun – typical Byron I guess.

He was just lit up like that - it was cool.

After the festival, I headed back to the hostel to get a good night’s rest.  The eastern-most point of mainland Australia was less than an hour’s walk away, and I wanted to catch sunrise there.  So at 4:30 am, I got up, quietly got my things together, and headed out to catch sunrise and see the Cape Byron Lighthouse.  It was still pitch dark when I got there, so I checked out the lighthouse and headed over to the easternmost point.  I had the place all to myself.  It was stunningly beautiful, and a real treat.  Unfortunately, it was a little cloudy so the photos aren’t great, but it was still a lot of fun.  I forget how gorgeous everything is in the morning sun!

The stars in the morning sky were so cool!

The Cape Byron Lighthouse

Captain Cook's Lookout

Captain Cook’s Lookout (above), overlooks one of the better surfing spots (or so I am told – its not for beginners) in Australia, The Pass.  I spotted this guy from the lookout in the picture above.  The first picture shows how good he is – he rode that wave all the way onto the beach, hundreds of feet away.  I just thought the second shot was funny.

I spent the rest of the morning checking out all the cool little shops and just generally scoping out the scene.

Bubbles!

After a meat pie for lunch, I took a surfing lesson!  Let’s just say I don’t think that I should quit my day job.  It was a lot of fun, but I wasn’t very good, especially not at the looking cool part.  I did manage to catch a few waves though, which was pretty neat.  After a few hours, it started to get a little later in the afternoon, and I started to notice that more seabirds were hanging around and diving.  I didn’t think anything of it until my instructor was like (read this extremely slowly for full effect) “Hey dudes, we should probably head back to the beach pretty soon, yeah?  See all the birds, man?  Yeah, the birds mean that there are probably like a school of little fishes around.  And little fishes generally attract bigger fishes, which attract… yeah, lets head in pretty soon guys, that cool?”  OK, so maybe he didn’t sound quite that surfer-ey, but he was a great teacher and a lot of fun.  Everybody in my group caught multiple waves, and we finished just in time for me to grab a quick meal of fish and chips on the beach before catching the Greyhound bus back to Brisbane.

So to re-cap: Byron isn’t quite my scene: I tend to be a little more mountain-ey, a little less beach-ey, and not quite so laid back, but it was certainly a beautiful spot, and I’m really glad I had a chance to visit!  But you should totally see it for yourself, man.

Thanks for reading!

-Isaac Freeman

Strange graffiti

Ok, so that last photo isn’t Byron-ey at all, but I saw it there, and I have a soft spot for these trucks.  Check out that snorkel!  I wanted to get one of those snorkels for the Ford Excursion I learned to drive on, but they only fit the 7.3l diesel (like this truck), the one I learned to drive on had a petrol engine…

Yoga on the Beach - typical Bryon

I thought the wave was cool

"love"

Thanks for reading

In the interest of academic honesty, I used a direct quote, so here’s the citation:

Vaisutis, Justine, et al. Lonely Planet: Australia. 15^th ed. Melbourne: Lonely Planet, 2009. Print.

The Australia Zoo

To follow up on my koala photo post, I decided that I aught to post up a few more of my photos from my visit to Steve Irwin’s Australia zoo.  This was really a special treat for me.  When I was little, I absolutely adored The Crocodile Hunter.  In fact, that show was, in large part, what began my fascination with Australia.  I was such a fan that I even sent Steve a postcard when I was little, and got this one back from his wife Terri.  You can tell how old it is from the name (they renamed the park the Australia Zoo).

But other than that, I think the photos of cute critters are pretty self-explanatory. I will say though, that it is an absolutely incredible zoo, and the Crocoseum (the stadium where crocodile demonstrations are held) makes it extra exciting.  You can really see Steve’s vision to create a park that would help people learn to appreciate Australia’s top predator.  The zoo really is a must-see for anybody visiting Australia.  I took way too many photos to post them all, but I hope this gives an idea of the quality of the zoo.  As always, feel free to comment!

Cheers,

-Isaac Freeman

The Common Wombat

I don't know what type of bird this is, but it was colourful, so I took a picture.

The was the official "cuddling koala" from the last post.

Too cute.

Echidnas! These little mammals are some of the few that lay eggs.

The Crocoseum

A Black Cockatoo

The Tasmanian 'Devil'

Koala Love

Hey Guys,

So I’m back from my weekend in Byron Bay, and I’ve got heaps of stuff to write about. Unfortunately, I also have heaps of homework to do, but I’ll definitely to have my blog entry up sometime later in the week. In the mean time, here’s a photo for y’all! I don’t know why, but I can’t stop laughing…

Friendly Koala at the Steve Irwin's Australia Zoo

Cheers,

Isaac Freeman

Sydney: My weekend of Land, Sea, and Air Travel

I’m back from Sydney, and quite looking forward to this blog entry! To be honest, I’m not quite sure where all this excitement has come from. This is my first crack at blogging, but I’ve grown rather fond of it. More so than I had anticipated. It’s good though, because it keeps me motivated to do fun things so I don’t have to write boring entries! Speaking of which, I guess I should stop rambling and get to the interesting stuff!

Well, actually before I start, I do want to say one thing. I was part of a student panel last week on behalf of UQ, where I had the chance to talk a little bit about my study abroad experience and field questions from study abroad professionals visiting from back in the states. I’m probably a good representative because I THINK AUSTRALIA IS SO AWESOME! I’m having an absolutely incredible time here. The weather, the people, the nature! It’s all stunning, and I’m trying to fit in as many trips as I can before I have to leave. But, as this semester starts to wind down, I’m also starting to get a little excited about heading home. I miss my family, my girlfriend, my friends, my pets, and my state. It turned out that one of the women I spoke with at the panel was from one of the big universities in Texas, where my sister is currently a student. But, the actual school was largely irrelevant; she was the closest link I’ve had to Texas in some time (she even said y’all!), and it made me a little nostalgic for my home state. Don’t get me wrong; I go to school in Massachusetts and I’ll will be interning in New York this summer. All the states are great but I’ll always have a soft spot for Texas.

Ok, now that I’ve had my moment, I’m ready go get back to Sydney!

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but at any rate, I’m currently interning at a merchant bank here in Brisbane, so I couldn’t leave until after work on Friday. Fortunately though, it was casual Friday, so I was already wearing jeans and my cowboy boots (can you tell I was feeling a little nostalgic?) when I left the office to head straight for the airport (no time to stop at home). In hindsight the boots were probably a bad idea actually, just because they didn’t fit in my backpack, but oh well.

My flight was basically uneventful, and the Jet Star faux-leather seats were surprisingly comfy for a budget airliner. After landing, I hopped on a train to central station, where I walked a few blocks to my hostel and checked in. Surprisingly, I ran into a few of my friends from UQ there! It was really random, but it ended up being nice to chat with them that night before heading off to bed.

The next morning, I got up early to go see Manly, a part of Sydney just across the harbour. It was a fair bit away, so from my hostel, the easiest way to get there was a quick train ride followed by a ferry. When I stepped off the train, this was the view I had. I think this may be one of the best photos I’ve ever taken.

The ferry ride was a tourist destination in itself! Totally gorgeous:

Manly itself was equally beautiful. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and the weather was just perfect! I spent some time walking around, first on the mall, then the beach, and then along the bay, taking a few back streets and stopping at a local flea market along the way. Most of it doesn’t warrant special mention, but there’s one thing I do feel obligated to bring up, more or less as a public service announcement.  I’ve noticed that Australian beaches seem to have a relatively high (at least from an American perspective) occurrence of men in “budgie smugglers” as they are affectionately known. Americans might know them as “Speedos”. I’m not going to take a stance on the smugglers one way or the other, but just be aware that they are out there. So don’t be surprised when you visit an Aussie beach. Consider yourself warned. For obvious reasons, I don’t have a picture to post, but here are a few other pictures from the morning.

I ran across this mirror and decided it was a good chance for a picture of me. Thats my trusty Lonely Planet guide tucked under my arm.

After catching the ferry back, I arranged a tour and climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Unfortunately, I can’t use the photos of me on the bridge (copyright restrictions, I’m not sure if this counts as commercial use?) but here is a picture of the bridge so you get an idea of what I’m talking about.

(Apparently, that's not actually smog: they are doing controlled burns inland to avoid bushfires)

The tour took us up the left half of the upper arch, across at the very top (by the flags, which you can just barely make out at the very top) and then back down the left side. Don’t worry, we were strapped in the whole time, and the views were unbelievable. It certainly wasn’t an adrenaline rush like skydiving, but if you’re looking for the best views in town, you should give it a go. The climb took the better part of four hours, so by the time I got off, I had just enough time to explore the Sydney Opera House in the setting sun before heading into the city for dinner in Chinatown.

The next morning, I headed over to Bondi beach, which is one of the better-known beaches in Sydney. Again, I couldn’t have asked for better weather. There was actually a triathlon finishing up while I was on the beach, so it was cool to see all the people racing out of the water.

After taking the bus back to the centre of Sydney, I checked out the Maritime Museum, which was fascinating. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to make it out to Cockatoo Island, like I was hoping I would, so I did a little more exploring around the city centre before catching the train back to the airport. Part of my wanders took me to the ANZAC (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps) war memorial. On the inside of the domed roof are 120,000 little stars—one for each soldier from New South Wales who served in World War One. Seeing all those little stars made me realise just how many people that really is. It’s amazing how something so simple can be so powerful.

After leaving the memorial, I had time for one last look around before it was time to go. All in all, it was a fantastic trip. My only regret was that I couldn’t stay longer: Sydney is also home to the Blue Mountains, which are so named because of the eucalyptus oil that floats in the air. They are supposed to be really pretty, and I’m a little sad that I didn’t get a chance to go. Oh well, I’ll just have to go back sometime! Thanks again for reading!

-Isaac Freeman

Hard at Work…

Hey guys. Apologies in advance for this entry – it’s not going to be super exciting (but next week’s will be!). I’ve been working flat out on a few big essays for the past few weeks, and they all seem to be coming due now, so I’ve been spending a lot more time in the Biological Sciences Library (club BSL, as I call it) than I’d like. Unfortunately, that also means that I haven’t been out exploring the city as much as I’d like, but hey, I’m a student first, traveller second, right?
I did make it out rock climbing with Toby on Saturday though! I didn’t have my camera with me, but it was an absolutely gorgeous day and it really felt fantastic to be outside exercising, instead of sitting at a desk in the library. We tried climbing at a different section of the cliffs this time. One of climbs leaned out a little bit, so you were just, ever-so-slightly inverted as you were climbing up. Unfortunately, by the time we got to that wall, my forearms felt like wet noodles – totally pumped out. I got halfway up the face to the really hard bit, posted up on my feet and made a big reach for the next solid hold and nailed it! It was the perfect hold. But, as soon as I grabbed on, I realised just how tired my arms were – I didn’t even have the strength to keep my fingers closed and I just slipped off the face, which sent me out on a nice little swing in my harness. Determined, I got back to the same spot, but my arms just still couldn’t do it. I finally gave up and Toby lowered me down. I could barely even open my water bottle. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but even as I’m writing this, my forearms are still a little sore. But it’s a good hurt I guess.
In other news, I got my exam schedule, and I’m super stoked, because it’s looking like I’ll have about a week to travel! If the weather will hold out, I would love to go hiking in Tasmania. Apparently, they get heaps of snow down there though, and I didn’t exactly think to bring all my cold weather gear. But who knows, I’ll call the ranger soon and see what he says. Maybe I’ll luck out…
Well, I should probably dig back into my books, but I feel like I aught to give you guys a little sneak preview. I’m headed down to Sydney this weekend, so you can expect some awesome photos next week. I’ll see you then!

Cheers,
-Isaac Freeman