Byron Bay, Australia
October 4th, 2008We fire ourselves out of Port Macquarie and visit Byron Bay, home of… Byron? Also, click here to see just how well the Australians do camping.
We fire ourselves out of Port Macquarie and visit Byron Bay, home of… Byron? Also, click here to see just how well the Australians do camping.
We get out of Sydney, quit our jobs (um, again) and head north. And north, and north. See how the first leg of our epic tour of Australia’s eastern coast went by clicking here.
The truly interesting part of our trip has come to an end, and we’re on a kind of backpacker hiatus in Sydney. Still, SFTGE has had its fair share of readers. Click here to find out how you arrived.
Five months, 15,000 miles, and over 6,000 photos. One fake driving license and a multitude of cockroaches. Countless trains, buses and boats. We must have learned something. Click here to find out what.
I stood in knee-high waves for hours before I took a good picture of a surfer. If you’re heading to a beach this weekend, learn from my mistakes by clicking here.
Consumer products aren’t built to last and customer support is dead, you say? I disagree, although bringing all of my broken gear to Malaysia might get old. Click here to see how my camera went from dead to living.
We go for a small walk in the woods that ends up with blood, sweat and tears. We dodge leeches, elephants and monitor lizards and, somehow, survive. Click here to find out how.
We wave goodbye to Thailand and head to northern Malaysia by way of a suicidally fast speedboat, held together in parts with duct tape. Find out how wet we got by clicking here.
We visit one of Thailand’s least-visited islands in search of some peace and quiet. And all we had to do to get there was take an eight hour bus trip through a terrorist hotspot before negotiating a series of pickup trucks. Find out if we broke down and sobbed on the side of the road by clicking here.
Why take the plane when you can spend four days in abject misery and discomfort, buffeted at every turn by drunk Russian soliders and drinking vodka? Read on to see whether you should tear up your frequent-flier number.