DAY FIFTEEN: Wildlife and Wild Life

Western Australia to Somewhere in the Southern Indian Ocean

I woke up to another hot Australian day. I believe the temperature was almost 100-degrees already, which made me feel hyperthermic and sweaty. Then I remembered that in Australian degrees, it was only 38. Suddenly I felt much cooler. It made me feel a little homesick too, because the temperature back in Minnesota is also about 38-degrees.

I broke camp, loaded The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong, and continued across the endlessly brown and dry Nullarbor. Actually, it wasn't endless because it eventually DID come to an end. There was a noticeable change in the landscape.

A TREE! And GREENNESS! I think I am finally riding out of the Nullarbor.

Australia has many animal species that can be found nowhere else in the world. I find that to be fascinating as hell. Everybody knows about most of those animals--kangaroos, wallabees, achidnas, koalas, emus, platypuses (platypii?) etc.--but there are a lot of lesser-known animals too. Even most Australians and zoologists aren't familiar with them.

I kept a keen eye out for that kind of Australian wildlife while I pedaled, and I'm happy to report that I had great success in spotting and photographing some of those amazingly rare animals.

Gregarious Magpies gathered for swooping down on an intrusive bicycle rider. (The attack was scary and painful. This particular magpie species goes straight for the eyeballs.)

************

I made it to the coastal town of Goofajularru and, man, was I thirsty. It had been a while since I've had a nice cold beer, so I decided to stop at a local pub for a quick pint.

"What'll ya have, mate" asked the burly bartender?

"I'll have a Bell's Two-Hearted IPA," I ordered. I knew it was a long shot, but I just felt like saying the name of one of my favorite beers.

"What the [heck] is that?"

"It's a fine ale from the American Midwest."

"Ah, good one funny guy. We got either Foster's Lager or Foster's Lager to choose from."

While drinking my beer, a couple of local fellows came up to the bar to join me. We joked around for a couple of hours while they kept buying multiple rounds.

By my fifth or sixth oil can of Foster's, I was feeling pretty happy.

My new Australian friends asked the bartender to turn the "telly" on so they could watch the football game. I was thinking something like the Green Bay Packers vs. the Minnesota Vikings. What I got was the Canberra Somethingorothers vs. the Perth Watchamacallits.

Hey, football is football, no matter who's playing. Or so I thought. This was something called Australian rules football, which more like a cross between rugby and the unfathomable game of cricket.

Feeling a little cocky, I announced, "I don't get it. This isn't football, this is nonsense."

"What are you talking about, mate," responded one of them.

"I'm talking about how your country's football is vastly inferior to REAL AMERICAN FOOTBALL."

"Oh yeah?"

"YEAH!"

"You wanna take this outside, mate?"

"Yeah, let's take this outside" I bluffed, "'cuz my muscles are more powerful than your huge biceps and sledgehammer fists."

I didn't expect them to call my bluff, but they did.

They pounded me with their sledgehammer fists, tossed me next to the dumpster like yesterdays trash, and threw my bike on top of me.

When I regained consciousness, I crawled down to the Indian Ocean shoreline. I texted Captain Skull to see if he was still willing to pick me up and bring me across the ocean to the next continent.

"Sure, I'll pick ya up, ya scurvy dog," was his reply. I thanked him like crazy, hung up the phone, and took a long nap on one of Australia's many beaches.

When I woke up, my old shipmates had arrived.

Wally, the First Mate, greeted me from the bow of the ship. "Come aboard, ya Scurvy Dog," he said.

"Aye," agreed Captain Skull, "the galley needs some more scrubbin'."

And so it was that I had arranged transportation to my fourth continent. And so it was that I got to spend the rest of the day on the high seas.

The best part is that Captain Skull took a look at my newly reattached hand and didn't demand that I be fitted for another hook. In fact, he was pretty impressed with Dr. Charlie's surgical skills.

Half-way across the Indian Ocean to Antarctica. I could look at this beautiful scenery forever.

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