Author Archives: Dan Perry

About Dan Perry

Dan created this blog to document his South America trip, which covered every country on the continent and lasted over two years. He currently lives in Madison, WI.

Southbound Across Tasmania

Kate, Greg and Kym.

January 20 - 22, 2015
Days 187 - 189

Before I started my hike of the Overland Track, my tent had gotten soaked in a rainstorm. I hung it from an outdoor porch during a gentle breeze for few hours, but it failed to dry. In fact, my tent remained damp for an entire week, weighing down my backpack. Finally, a sunny day in Devonport allowed me to dry it. I hung the fly over a clothesline and left the tent to soak in the sun. Then I started a load of laundry and headed to the library, where there was free wifi.

An occasional rest-day is a necessity for the long-term traveler; I intended to make the most of this one. After a bit of research, I discovered that there was a daily bus from Devonport to Hobart. I also got into contact with Greg, whom I had met a week earlier. He confirmed that I could spend a night at his home in the small town of Deloraine. I also bought bus tickets and found a CouchSurfing host in Hobart. My shin was still swollen, making it painful to walk, but I figured it would be fine if I took it easy for a few days. Back at the campsite, I got everything organized and was ready to leave in the morning. Fortunately, my tent hadn't accumulated any mold from being wet for a week. Unfortunately, it rained all night, and my tent was soaked, yet again.

I took the bus to Deloraine the next morning. Greg, his wife Kate and her daughters Kym and Menon, along with Menon's husband Jason and their children were also there. It was quite a large family gathering. Unfortunately, Menon, Jason and the kids had to fly back to the mainland that afternoon, so we didn't get to talk for long. Before he left, Jason showed me some pictures of him and his son, walking on part of the Overland Track. The photos showcased snowy mountains, dark green forests, wide open grasslands and happy people. It was as if he and I had visited different countries entirely.

Kym and I went for a walk around Deloraine in the afternoon. The town was quiet, with a few outdoor sculptures and art shops as its main attractions. A river ran through the middle of town, and there were mountains in the distance. Many tourists were staying in a caravan park next to the river. Greg and Kate had moved to Deloraine to retire, and I could see why. It was a peaceful place, with plenty of nature to explore nearby, and it had a milder climate than most places on the mainland.

We had a lovely dinner in Greg and Kate's outdoor garden, and a long chat afterward. I learned that Greg had recently published a memoir (available on Amazon here), so it was exciting to meet a fellow author. Jason was also an author, and he was putting the final touches on his latest book. Our discussions that evening were quite interesting, and I was ecstatic to have gotten the chance to stay at Greg and Kate's place.

A house on a hill.

The next day I caught the bus to Hobart. The hilly streets, outdoor markets and harbor full of yachts reminded me of San Francisco (even though I've never been there). Navigating the hills on a bum leg proved painful, but luckily the downtown area was compact enough for me to get around without a monumental effort. There was far less hustle and bustle in Hobart than in Melbourne.

I CouchSurfed with Dane, a lifelong Tasmanian and a fellow traveler who was well-connected to the city's nightlife and art scene. Over a glass of wine on his backyard patio, we discussed what to do in Hobart. Without a doubt, the biggest attraction in the city was MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art. In fact, nearly everyone I had met in Tasmania had recommended that I check out MONA. I decided to go there the next day.

More photos from Deloraine

The Tricky Route to Devonport

The end of the trek.

Missed the earlier sections? Here they are:
[Planning] [Day 1] [Days 2 - 4] [Day 5]

January 19, 2015
Day 186
Overland Track Day 6

At seventeen kilometers, the last section of the Overland Track was one of the longest. It was also one of the easiest sections because it was flat, hugging the shore of Lake Saint Clair. That was a good thing: my right shin was swollen, and the pain had been mounting over the last few days. I figured I had shin splints, the result of carrying a forty-pound backpack that was missing its frame. (My backpack's frame had broken during the flight to Australia.) It was time for me to finish the trek and give my leg some much-needed rest.

When I stepped outside of the Narcissus Hut, the deep blue sky struck me. It was my first rain-free morning on the trail. I relished in the warm sunshine for a minute, then started walking.

I was the last one to leave, so I was extra cautious. Nobody would cross this section of trail for a whole day. If there existed a good place to get hurt, this was not it.

Lake Saint Clair

A few hours into my walk, I reached Echo Point, the last hut on the Overland Track, nestled on the shore of Lake Saint Clair. A long jetty led over the crystal-clear water, and there was a sweeping view of the surrounding forests and hills. Most hikers took a ferry across the lake, and the few who actually walked this section (including me) tended to skip the hut because it was so close to the end of the trail. It sure would have been nice to stop there for a night, though.

The trail continued through the forest, near the lake's edge. On a normal day, tiny streams would flow across the trail, and empty into the lake. But after five days of constant rain, the “streams” were actual rivers, knee-deep in some places. The only way across was to walk through them. Alas, even with the picture-perfect weather, I still couldn't keep my boots dry.

I sat on the trunk of a fallen tree near one of the rivers and ate my last salmon packet and energy bars for lunch. My food supply was down to the bare bones. When I continued, I saw that the large group from my cabin had coincidentally also stopped for lunch, about 200 meters in front of me. I said “hi” as I passed them, and made my push for the finish line.

An echidna spotted on the trail.

As I continued, I started to see signs of civilization. First, the path became flatter and wider; later, it was paved. Then I saw some people hiking toward me – everyone on the Overland Track was required to walk from north to south, so I hadn't seen anyone walking north in six days. Those hikers were only carrying day packs, and they didn't even return my greeting when we passed each other. “Civilization,” indeed.

Just like the Great Ocean Walk, the Overland Track ended in anticlimactic fashion. I limped into the Lake Saint Clair Visitor Centre early in the afternoon. The swelling in my leg had gotten worse, and each step had become painful. I was glad to be done.

The $3000 tour group was gathered outside of the visitor center, celebrating their achievement with a glass of champagne. One of the guides informed me that the terrible weather had been caused by two rare cold fronts, back-to-back. And it affected all of Tasmania: large portions of the island were flooded. When the group finished their champagne, they headed to their private van, bound for Hobart. I drank some water and looked for info on the public bus.

It turned out I was mistaken. The next public bus didn't leave until the following morning. Camping at the visitor center for a single night wouldn't be an issue, but tomorrow's bus only went to Hobart. I needed to return to Devonport to pick up my stuff. If I took that bus, I would end up circumnavigating Tasmania, and it would take all day, if not longer. If I had a car, I could drive to Devonport in a few hours. The lack of public transportation was my biggest frustration in Tasmania.

The large family group finished the trek about twenty minutes after me. We all congratulated each other, and soon they took off in their cars, all bound for Hobart. Later, the Lake Saint Clair Ferry arrived, and dropped off many people I had met during the trek. Simon, Bob and Craig were among them. Their wives, kids and grandchildren met them at the visitor center, with many hugs and kisses. The French guys who traveled with a liter of milk and four cans of Red Bull were absent. Apparently, they were going to stay the night in the tiny Echo Point Hut.

I recognized another group on the ferry. They were from various parts of Australia, and they had converged on Tasmania for the trek. They informed me that they were heading to Devonport in a private van, and they had space for me. Their friend Balki picked us up and we were off. Score!

The drive to Devonport was mostly on gravel roads. Along the way, we saw some spectacular mountainous scenery. There was even a “Great Lake,” and the weather remained perfect. I kept thinking: So this is what Tasmania actually looks like.

Balki dropped me off at my old campground in Devonport, and he drove the rest of the group to the next town. I thanked them for the ride and retrieved the stuff I had left at the campground's office. Then I set up my tent and stocked up on food at the local supermarket. I went to bed at 10:00, my latest night in a week.

Despite the terrible weather, I still had a good time on the Overland Track because of the people. It's amazing how quickly you can get to know someone when you spend the afternoon together in a cramped cabin. Someday, I'll return to Tasmania and hike the Overland Track again. Hopefully the weather will be better. It couldn't have been much worse.

Mac and Cheese and Monotremes

The Du Cane Hut.

Missed the earlier sections? Here they are:
[Planning] [Day 1] [Days 2 - 4]

January 18, 2015
Day 185
Overland Track Day 5

This was to be my longest day on the Overland Track. My original plan after reaching the end of the trail was to hitch a ride to Devonport, but after learning that a serial killer named Ivan Milat had single-handedly ruined hitchhiking throughout Australia, I figured a bus would be a safer bet. The next bus to Devonport was due to leave tomorrow afternoon; the next one after that wasn't for several more days. If I wanted to catch tomorrow's bus, I would have to hike two sections today.

Even though I was in a hurry, I didn't leave the hut until 8:00. It was still pouring rain, and I just couldn't motivate myself to get an early start. Luckily, the rain slowed to a drizzle shortly after I started walking. Despite the continued precipitation, I was drier than I had been in five days on the trail.

Before long I reached the Du Cane Hut, built by a bushman named Paddy Hartnett in 1910. It was smaller than the modern huts, but otherwise quite similar. The biggest differences were the wood-burning fireplace (superior to the broken gas heater at the Kia Ora Hut) and the beds that were tilted slightly upward to prevent their occupants from falling out. (Nowadays, hut-builders seemed to prefer flat beds and guardrails.) The rain stopped during my short break. The clouds even began to disperse. I hoped this fortunate weather would last.

Continuing on the trail, I reached the turnoff for two short side trips to waterfalls. I picked Fergusson Falls first, and because of the excessive rain, it was really cranking. The path near the waterfall was getting a slippery shower, so I almost wasn't even able to follow it. D'Alton was completely inaccessible. The small stream that normally crossed the path had turned into a debris-laden river. It would be far too easy to get trapped in the current if I attempted to ford it, so I headed back to the main trail.

A while later, I took another side trail, this time to Hartnett Falls. The top of the waterfall was huge, overflowing into the forest and crashing at some unseen spot below. Bob, Simon and Craig caught up with me and together, we searched for a route to the bottom. Eventually we made it to the river, and we could see where the path normally would lead up to the falls, but today it was totally submerged. We settled for a few pictures from afar and headed back to the main trail.

'Shrooms next to the trail.

The path at this point was still full of mud and puddles, with scant duckwood to make it easier for hikers. When the path got too muddy, people trampled the vegetation around the edges, which soon became muddy as well. At times the trail was a six-foot-wide muddy hole. Given the frigid weather I had experienced during summer, it might sound crazy to attempt this trek in winter, but at least the mud would be frozen.

I made it to the Bert Nichols Hut at 1:00 PM. It was modern and huge, easily big enough to accommodate the wave of thirty hikers that would soon start flowing into it. I had to continue to the next hut, which would likely also have thirty occupants. But that hut's capacity was only twenty. Still, as long as rain didn't return, I wouldn't mind sleeping in my tent. I ate a peanut butter sandwich and an energy bar for lunch, and headed out.

The next section of trail was mostly flat, but the muddy ground still made it difficult. Eventually, I gave up: instead of searching for routes around the giant puddles, I simply walked through them. I was resigned to the fact that my feet wouldn't get dry until I was back in Devonport.

I arrived at the Narcissus Hut late in the afternoon. Only eleven others were staying there, a pleasant surprise. All of them were Australian, including a group of eight that had converged from all over the country for the trek, and three locals. Apparently, the reason this hut wasn't crowded was because most people skipped the final section, and opted instead to take a ferry across Lake Saint Clair.

At dusk a bunch of us walked to a river that fed into the lake to look for platypuses. The monotremes are are quite shy, making them difficult to sight. Lucky for me, a couple of people in the group had binoculars, and keen eyesight. They pointed at a distant, solitary platypus as it came up for air. It sank back into the water a few seconds later, and it didn't show itself to us again. Still, I'll count it.

The Narcissus Hut had a coal heater, so it was toasty warm. Tonight would be my first realistic chance to get my clothes dried. I ate a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner; the only other food I had left was oatmeal, energy bars and several packages of ramen noodles. My backpack had been getting lighter as I ate my food, but heavier as more of my gear got wet. Still, with a set of (hopefully) dry clothing, and an apparent end to the rain, I was in good spirits heading into my final day on the trail.

Continue to Day 6

The Underwater Track

A rare dry moment.

Missed the earlier sections? Here they are:
[Planning] [Day 1]

January 15 - 17, 2015
Days 182 - 184
Overland Track Days 2 - 4

Day 2

Everyone in the hut was up at 6. Except the French duo who traveled with four cans of Red Bull and a liter of milk. Somehow, they were able to sleep through the noise of twenty-two people cooking breakfast and packing their stuff. After eating my oatmeal, I went to the “drying room” to retrieve my clothes from the previous day. They were still soaking wet. I didn't have a spare outfit, so I slid into my frigid socks, shirt, underwear (shudder) and pants. Dressed for the day, I finished packing and left the hut.

When I walked across the campground, I noticed that another group had slept in an older hut nearby. A few others had braved the terrible weather in their tents. It was only then that I realized just how busy this trail was. At least thirty people had spent the night in Waterfall Valley. When I was hiking the Great Ocean Walk a week earlier, the campgrounds only averaged 4-6 people.

On my first day, the bad weather had forced me to skip the side trip to the summit of Cradle Mountain. Today, I hoped to trek to the top of Barn Bluff, another mountain that towered above Waterfall Valley. But there was no point. It was still raining, and there was nothing to see, so I continued on the main trail. In lieu of a description of the scenery, here's part of the official notes for this section of the Overland Track: Gently rising and falling, the path crosses open buttongrass moorlands to the Lake Will junction. Further undulations give way to views of Lake Windermere and nearby pencil pines, myrtles and snow peppermints.

Rather than undulations, a brief lapse in the rain was what gave me a view of Lake Windermere. I reached the Windermere Hut a few minutes later. It was early afternoon, and I was one of the first people to arrive. Hikers staggered in throughout the day, cold and wet from the relentless rain. I spent most of the day playing Hearts with Bob and his sons Simon and Craig, who had come to Tasmania from various other parts of Australia for the trek. I now realized that I would be hiking with essentially the same people on the whole trail. This created a cozy atmosphere in the hut, which contrasted sharply with the weather outside. Yesterday was our introduction. Today we got to know each other better. Tomorrow, best friends?

Mount Oakleigh.

Day 3

It was a cold and windy dawn, but at least the sky was clear. Unfortunately, my clothes were still damp. I resigned to the fact that I wouldn't walk in dry clothes again until I made it back to Devonport. People left the hut in a more frenzied pace than yesterday because yet another rainstorm was forecast for the afternoon. I was on the trail at 7:15; several groups had started walking before me.

Once again, the hike was short, and it would've been easy, if not for the bad weather. I walked through some beautiful mossy forests, and I got a good look at Frog Valley from above. There was less duckboard than the previous days, so my feet often sank ankle-deep in the mud.

While walking through Frog Valley, I ran into a guided tour group. They had paid roughly $3000 each to do the trek, but there were several advantages to taking this tour. Each night they got to stay in private huts, with heaters and actual drying racks for their clothes. They didn't have to carry a tent or a stove, and they got to drink wine every night. I can only imagine what their gourmet meals were like. Even though the tour was pricey, it was a great option for those who didn't want to venture into the wilderness without a guide, or with a full backpack.

I walked up a long hill to leave Frog Valley, and then the rain picked up. I made a mad dash for the New Pelion Hut and arrived at noon, just before the storm arrived. The official “days” on the Overland Track were short, but this was largely because so many side trips were possible. Today's option was a hike to the top of Mount Oakleigh, on the far side of the buttongrass moorlands. Due to the torrential downpour, I could barely see the mountain from the cabin, so I decided to skip it.

The New Pelion Hut was huge, with capacity for thirty-six. I was the first one there, so I got a cozy nook, my most luxurious bed of the year. The other hikers trickled into the cabin all afternoon. The French guys took beds near mine; they each chugged a can of Red Bull when they arrived. Once again, I played cards with the Australians. Our game of the day was “Scumbags and Warlords.” Before long, fifteen of us were playing.

New Pelion Hut's Deck.

I cooked a seafood meal (just add water) and supplemented it with a package of smoked salmon and extra rice. Even after dipping into my spare rations, the meal was barely big enough to quell my hunger. Normally I make the mistake of carrying too much food on my treks, but this time, I was cutting it close. That was actually a good thing, as long as I didn't get stranded somewhere for more than a day.

Late in the afternoon, the rain actually stopped. For a few seconds, I even saw a patch of blue sky. Quolls (marsupials about the size of a house cat) came out of the woods in search of their next meals. Mount Oakleigh emerged from the fog, so everyone went outside to shoot photos. I was so excited, I ran across the chicken-wire-covered duckboard with my bare feet. I could barely feel my toes when I reached the edge of the platform, one of the disadvantages of not carrying sandals. I vowed to return and climb Mount Oakleigh someday. But that night, I just wanted my feet to be warm and dry.

My nook atop the loft of the Kia Ora hut.

Day 4

It was pouring rain when I left the hut this morning. This wasn't a surprise – it had barely stopped raining the whole time I was on the Overland Track. The trail took me uphill about 300 meters, to a pass called the Pelion Gap. Mount Pelion was to the east and Mount Ossa, the tallest in Tasmania at 1617 meters, was to the west. Wooden platforms were on both sides of the trail. Normally, hikers would leave their backpacks here, and hike to the top of Mount Ossa. It was meant to be the best side trip of the entire Overland Track.

Today an attempt at Mount Ossa would be suicide. The temperature was a few degrees above freezing. Horizontal sleet was pelting me in the face. Whenever the wind gusted, I had to lean into it to avoid getting blown off the trail. My socks and pants were drenched. I had given up on wearing my soaked shirt; instead a waterproof windbreaker was all that covered my torso. If I put on any of my dry clothes, they would immediately get wet, and I would likely get hypothermia at night. Mount Ossa was covered in a fresh coat of snow, and the clouds that swirled around its peak indicated that the wind was fierce. I had a winter hat, but I didn't have gloves (it's the middle of summer, I had stupidly told myself from the comfort of Devonport). There's a fine line between bringing the correct amount of gear, and being in serious trouble. As I ran downhill, my boots disappearing in a puddle of mud with each step, my white fingers clamped around my backpack's straps, my jacket emitting steam as snow slammed into it and evaporated, I realized that I was dangerously close to crossing that line.

It was over quick. I safely reached the Kia Ora Hut at 10:30 AM. The last group from the previous night still was there. We discussed the terrible weather, and they reluctantly headed out for the day. I changed into my dry clothes, hung my wet clothes over a beam and spent the next hour warming up. The thermostat said it was seven degrees Celcius, so we were allowed to use the heater. Unfortunately, it was broken.

Just like the last few days, people gradually showed up throughout the afternoon. One of the guides from the $3000 group stopped by to say hi. He claimed that he hadn't seen this much rain in forty years of living in Tasmania. The ranger was also at the cabin for part of the afternoon. He said they had gotten more rain in the last five days than they normally would get all summer. Lucky us.

Before long, wet clothes were hanging from every available inch of beam space. Once again, we played cards and waited out the storm. It's funny how these shared experiences can bring people together. Everyone was joking around with one another, like old chums. If it had been warm and sunny for our trek, most people probably would have slept in their tents, and we wouldn't have had the same camaraderie. So the bad weather was good for something. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Continue to Day 5

Serial Killers and Silent Dog Trees

Missed the earlier section? Here it is:
[Planning]

January 14, 2015
Day 181
Overland Track Day 1

Now that I had my food and supplies organized for the Overland Track, the only question that remained was “How will I get to the trailhead?” I could take a bus all the way from Devonport to Cradle Mountain. But along the way, I wanted to check out the small town of Sheffield, famous for its murals, and the bus didn't stop there. Instead, I decided to hitch a ride to Sheffield, look at the murals for an hour or two, and either hitchhike the rest of the way to Cradle Mountain, or catch the bus as it passed through town. After my experience of “hitching” to the campground in Devonport (where I didn't even have to ask for a ride), I figured hitchhiking in the rest of Tasmania would be easy.

I walked to the edge of Devonport, carrying my backpack loaded with food and camping gear for the next week. I found a safe place, with good visibility and plenty of room for cars to pull aside, put on a smile and stuck out my thumb. Car after car passed by; the drivers ignored me. I wasn't surprised when the little old ladies driving tiny cars chose not to stop. But people driving pickup trucks with open beds, and Volkswagen and Mitsubishi “hippie vans” didn't even glance my way. I was invisible.

Dejected, I turned around and walked back into Devonport after an hour. I would have tried longer, but now I had to execute my backup plan of taking the bus all the way from Devonport to Cradle Mountain. If I continued to hitch and didn't make it to the trailhead by midday, I would lose my permit to hike the Overland Track. I later learned that a man named Ivan Milat had killed at least seven hitchhikers in New South Wales in the early 1990s. Ever since his capture, Australians have been leery of anyone attempting to hitch a ride (even though it was the driver, not the hitchhiker, who had committed those horrible crimes). After learning this, I decided to retire from my brief stint as a down-under hitcher.

Luckily, the bus still had a few empty seats. It took me, along with around ten other hikers and day-trippers to Cradle Mountain. Along the way, the bus passed through Sheffield, but it didn't stop. Oh well. I did get to see some of the murals for five whole seconds. After leaving Sheffield, we went on a long uphill journey, full of magnificent views of the surrounding mountains.

The weather turned cold and rainy. The Cradle Mountain Visitor Centre was full of people waiting out the storm. I found the ranger's desk to sign in for the trek, but there was a problem: I had only purchased my permit a few days earlier, after they had already printed the list of permit-holders, so my name wasn't on it. They had to dig through the computer records to locate my permit. But all was well, and soon I was officially checked in.

The forest near Cradle Mountain.

Finally, I hopped onto a shuttle bus bound for the trailhead. During the ride, the driver explained that Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair National Park was full of “silent dog” trees (so called “because they ain't got no bark!”). Those trees were still alive, but there were also many dead ones. I asked the driver if an invasive beetle had gotten to them. Nope – due of Tasmania's strict quarantine, the island had remained relatively free of invasive species, at least compared with the mainland. (Though tragically, the native Tasmanian tiger was hunted to extinction because farmers considered it to be a pest.) The reason there were so many dead trees standing was simply because they were allowed to decay naturally. You could even tell how long a tree had been dead by the number of branches it still had. The limbless ones died over half a century ago.

The shuttle bus dropped me off at the Ronny Creek Car Park, where there was a fancy sign marking the beginning of the trail. The bus turned around and headed back to the visitor center. Other than the cars that were parked in the lot, the bus was the last vehicle I would see for a week.

The rain had stopped, but the wind was strong and dark clouds still swirled around the sky. I walked into a three-walled shelter and made a peanut butter sandwich, protected from the wind. A few groups of day-hikers showed up to look at the map posted inside the shelter. Some people were also carrying huge backpacks; they were fellow holders of permits for the Overland Track. Other than a map, the shelter also prominently displayed the local forecast for the next several days. It looked horrible: rain, rain and more rain, coupled with extreme wind and occasional snow. It was as if the forecast I had seen a few days earlier was for another country. This was my last chance to back out; if I wanted to leave the trek early, a helicopter would have to rescue me. Still, I wasn't going to turn around now. Not after coming this far.

I started hiking along the well-maintained trail. Duckboard, topped with chicken wire for extra traction, covered all of the muddy sections. The path led me through a temperate a rain forest, to Cradle Lake and Cradle Falls. When I took a break to photograph the waterfall, the weather quickly deteriorated. I sealed my camera in a waterproof sack, slid my rain cover over my backpack and continued. The trail became a long, uphill march; this was the most difficult section of the Overland Track. By the time I reached a pass called Marion's Lookout, freezing rain was pelting me in the face. Strong gusts of wind threatened to blow me off of the path. I didn't stop to take in the view because there wasn't one. The dense fog covered everything.

After the pass, the path turned downhill, and I got a bit of relief from the extreme exposure. The clouds actually broke apart a bit too, allowing me to see just enough of the valley to know that it would look spectacular during decent weather. This was a long, flat section of trail, during which I saw the colorful dots of a few other hikers' backpacks. We all seemed to be charging for the hut that marked our campsite before more serious weather came in.

The path continued downhill, into Waterfall Valley. There were a few wildflowers, and plenty of green shrubbery, but the fog still prevented me from seeing the distant mountains. Every hiking trail comes with a long set of worst-case-scenario warnings, which I usually interpret as the government covering themselves against lawsuits. But I could already tell that the Overland Track's warnings of extreme weather were serious. On a sunny day, the trail wouldn't be particularly difficult or dangerous, especially considering that the muddy sections were covered with duckboard, but the weather could change for the worse in an instant.

I reached the Waterfall Valley Hut at around 5:00 PM. All hikers were required to carry a tent, but with the wind and rain showing no signs of slowing, it looked like everyone on the trail would opt to sleep indoors. The hut was cramped with hikers, but everyone was careful not to encroach on others' space. A ranger and a volunteer were holding down the fort. There was a gas heater, but we could only turn it on when the temperature dropped below ten degrees Celsius. (Fuel had to be helicoptered in, making it extremely expensive.) Coincidentally, the mercury remained at eleven degrees all evening.

The hut had space for twenty-four hikers, divided into four platforms. I blew up my air mattress, draped my pink fleece blanket over the top and changed into all of my warm clothes. I hung my soaking wet clothes in the porch, next to everyone else's gear, though I didn't expect it to dry without the aid of the heater. Most of my fellow hikers were Australian, though there was a German couple and two young French guys who carried a liter of milk and four cans of Red Bull in their backpacks.

There was a bit of grumbling about the limited space in the hut, but for me, it was quite cozy. I hadn't slept in a building in over a week. Given the horrible weather and my lack of winter gear, the hut was pure luxury.

More photos from the Overland Track

Continue to Days 2 - 4

Preparing for the Overland Track

The beginning of the Overland Track.

January 9 – 13, 2015
Days 176 – 180

Before coming to Australia, I had lived for five months in Beijing, China. After having spent so much time in one of the biggest cities on the planet, I just wanted to get as far from people as possible. Tasmania was a good choice. The entire island only had 513,000 people, and nearly half of them lived in Hobart. “Tassie” had plenty rugged wilderness to explore. Where, exactly, would I go?

The lack of public transportation, combined with the fact that I would most likely be on my own, limited my options. After doing a bit of research, I learned that the Overland Track is one the highest-rated treks in the world. The trail starts at the Cradle Mountain Visitor Centre, a few hours from Devonport and accessible by bus. From there, the trail goes south, skirting the edges of some of the tallest mountains in Tasmania. The trail ends at the Lake Saint Clair Visitor Centre, which is close to a highway (ie, easy to hitch a ride back to Devonport). The route was supposed to be easy to follow, and there were bound to be lots of other people in the same general area as me, so I didn't mind going it alone.

The only problem with hiking the Overland Track was that a permit was required. This trek was popular – hikers generally bought their permits six months in advance. But they also tended to go in groups. It just so happened that there was still a single permit available a few days hence, so I scooped it up. There weren't any days with multiple permits available for the next two months. Traveling alone does have its advantages.

I couldn't start walking for a few days, but that was OK by me. The forecast called for thunderstorms on the last day before my trek was to begin. After that, it was supposed to be warm and sunny for the next week. But even so, the Tasmanian Mountains were notorious for bad weather. Snow was possible, even in summer. I would have to prepare for the worst.

The Don River Railway train.

The next day, I followed the hiking path that went past my campground. It took me through a eucalyptus forest for a few miles, and ended in a village called Don. I was about to turn around and walk back to my campsite when I spotted a railway museum. I spent the next few hours looking at the old passenger trains that used to cart people around Tasmania. Most of the cars were bare-bones by today's standards, but the carriage the British royal family took across the island was an example of late-Victorian opulence. When I left the museum, I ate my lunch in a park and met a lovely retired couple who invited me to visit them in Deloraine after I finished my trek. I told them I'd call them when I got back to town.

One day I decided to buy a few supplies for the Overland Track. I didn't bring a sleeping bag on this trip because my plan was to travel in the Australian summer for two months, then spend another month in tropical Cambodia and Vietnam before heading back to Beijing. The weather was hot in Devonport, but I knew I would need something to keep me warm in the mountains. I picked up a pink fleece blanket from the Salvation Army for $2 and a space blanket from an outdoors shop. I also had a winter hat, a down jacket and two sets of long underwear with me. Even though the forecast called for warm weather, I figured I could survive a night in my tent, as long as the temperature didn't drop much below freezing.

On the last day before my trek, I went grocery shopping. The Overland Track was supposed to take seven days, but like the Great Ocean Walk in Victoria, the official sections were short. Still, this was the only trek I planned to do in Tasmania, so I didn't mind taking my time. On the other hand, the longer I stretched out my trek, the more the extra food would weigh me down. This is one of the guessing games involved with trekking. Take too much food and you can't carry your backpack. Take too little and you go hungry. I ended up buying enough quick-cooking food for seven days, with the thought that if I was going to run out, I could always combine two days of walking and hike out early. When I got back to my campsite in Devonport, I carefully planned each meal, keeping in mind how many calories I would be taking in, and how many I would likely burn on the trail.

As expected, it rained hard for most of that final day. The temperature also plummeted. I was on the coast and it was the middle of summer, but I was freezing. I dreaded to think of what would have happened if I had been in the mountains during the rain. I just hoped the bad weather would clear as quickly as it had come.

More photos from Devonport

External Websites:
Official Overland Track Website
Wikipedia's Overland Track Website

Continue to Day 1

Shipping to Tasmania

Sunrise over Melbourne.

Jan 8, 2015
Day 175

It was time for a change of pace. I had finished the Great Ocean Walk (click here for a summary), then spent two days sea kayaking and relaxing on Torquay's beaches with Craig and some other friends. So far on my Australia trip, I had only seen Victoria, the southernmost state on the main continent. But Australia had a large chunk of land further south, a land so forgotten, it was often omitted from maps of the country. Even its name sounded exotic. Tasmania.

Driving to the island of Tasmania was out of the question. Flying was possible, but it's my least favorite way to travel. Luckily, there was another option: a ferry called the Spirit of Tasmania.

I headed to the Station Pier in Melbourne, where the ship was docked. When I stepped aboard, a woman searched my carry-on bag and immediately found my lunch of bread, cheese, avocado and carrots. Before I came to Australia, I had heard about the country's strict policy of quarantining fresh food. Now that I was leaving Victoria, I was learning that a separate quarantine applied for interstate travel. The woman made me throw away my illegal avocado and carrots. At least I could still bring the bread and cheese aboard.

After passing through the quarantine, I checked out the rest of the ship. There were several outdoor decks, where passengers took in the salty air of the Tasman sea. There was also a bar, a restaurant that served avocados for an exorbitant price and an artist. Lining the ship's interior were loud televisions showing game shows and advertisements for the island. Luckily, I had paid a bit of extra money for a cushy “ocean recliner” in a private lounge at the ship's stern. It was the only part of the ship that was free from the annoying TV screens.

The Spirit of Tasmania sped out of Melbourne at twenty-seven knots. Before long, we went through a narrow channel to exit Port Phillip. The ship rocked side to side as we entered the open sea.

I stayed parked in my assigned seat for most of the day, sleeping, eating my cheese and bread and catching up on my photos. My Australian journey had been amazing so far, and I still had about five weeks to go. I had no plans for Tasmania, but whatever I ended up doing, it was sure to be an adventure.

The Spirit of Tasmania pulls into Devonport.

At 6:30 PM, the Spirit of Tasmania docked in the city of Devonport, on Tasmania's north coast. I stepped ashore and examined a brochure I had picked up on the ship. Along with a map of the city, several options for accommodation were listed. I called the only youth hostel in town, but they were full. Next I called a campground and was happy to learn that they had vacancies. The only problem was getting there. When I examined the map more closely, I realized that the ship had docked in West Devonport, and there was only one bridge connecting it to Devonport proper. The city buses had already stopped running. (I later learned that Tasmanians have a joke about the lack of public transportation on their island: “There's only one bus on Tassie, and it's in the garage.”) I could take a taxi, but the five-mile trip to the campground was guaranteed to be overpriced. Instead, I lowered my head, sucked in my pride and started walking along the palm-lined shore of the Mersey River.

Soon I spotted a deli with a sign outside that said “All Cheeseburgers $5.” I stepped inside and ordered a cheeseburger. The girl at the register turned around and asked the owner how much to charge. “Just charge him three dollars,” she said with a smile. I devoured the burger and continued walking, cheerful from the unsolicited discount.

Ten minutes later, I was thirsty. I was about to stop for a swig from my water bottle when I heard a guy shout, “Hey!”

I thought: I'm carrying this huge backpack. Now you need to harass me for it. You're so cool because you laugh at my misfortune.

I looked up and saw the guy who had shouted. He was standing on the second floor balcony of an apartment building, and now he was waving to get my attention. Suddenly I realized that he wasn't harassing me. He was holding a can of beer, and he was motioning for me to take it. I smiled and held up my hands, and he tossed the ice-cold can to me. “Thanks!” I said, and continued walking.

I wasn't sure if it was legal to drink in public in Devonport, Tasmania. While I pondered whether I should open the beer while it was cold, or wait an hour until I was at my campsite, I heard another guy shout, “Hey!”

An old white station wagon was parked next to the road, in a gravel lot. I thought: Great, now this guy wants to harass me.

The station wagon's windows were open. A young blond man was sitting in the driver's seat. “You need a ride?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Here's where I'm going.” I took out my map and showed him the campground.

“Sure, I can take you there,” he said. “Hop in.”

I threw my backpack on the back seat and climbed aboard. The generous man's name was Cabe. He was from Devonport, and recently, he had spent a year hitchhiking around the west coast of Canada and the US. Finding a ride was never an issue, and he met a ton of great people along the way. Now that he was back in Tasmania, he liked to return the favor. I was grateful.

Cabe drove me to the campground's office. I got out, put on my backpack and thanked him for the ride. Then I remembered: I still had the can of beer. “Here you go,” I said, and handed it to him.

The campground was packed with RV's, but there was a small area reserved for tents. I set up my tent under a pine tree and went for a walk. The campground had flush toilets, hot showers and a laundry room. A hiking trail led to the nearby beach, and away from town. I had successfully shipped to Tasmania. Now I just had to figure out what to do while I was there.

Photos from the ferry
Photos from Devonport

GMIC Beijing, 2015

People using smartphones on the subway.

Everyone in Beijing seems to have a smartphone. They're great for chatting with friends and catching up on the news. I use my smartphone to navigate through this huge city where I don't understand the language. What's the future of mobile technology, both in China, and the rest of the world?

Last week I had the opportunity to attend the Global Mobile Internet Conference in Beijing. The GMIC is one of the world's largest mobile technology conferences, with over 400 speakers and 30,000 people in attendance. The conference was held in the China National Convention Center (CNCC), next to the “Bird's Nest” stadium that was made famous during the 2008 Olympics.

On the first day of the convention, I arrived early and picked up my press pass. Later I met my friend Rucky from Thailand and we toured the facilities. The first floor had a huge exhibition, with dozens of companies giving demonstrations of their latest products. Two common themes I noticed were drones and cloud computing. The drones especially got my interest; I have seen cheap models for sale in street markets in several Chinese cities. Will more sophisticated drones become commodities in the near future?

More Photos From the Exhibition

Cool as the exhibits were, Rucky and I were really there for the conference. We headed to the Thought Leader room, packed with hundreds of attendees, for the first presentations of the day. We were not disappointed. Three huge screens were set up, giving everyone in the room a larger-than-life view of the speakers. The epic opening theme talked about revolutionizing the planet with mobile technology. A live band was even set up to play between presentations.

The lead singer.

The speakers themselves were nothing short of fantastic.

Here are the highlights from some of talks I attended. Note that most of the presenters spoke in Chinese, so I only received a rough English translation through a radio earpiece. In other words, this is a summary, not a transcript.

Jing Long Zhou
Overall Head
GMIC Beijing

Jing Long Zhou discussed how mobile technology is changing the world. The majority of people in developing nations exclusively use their smart phones to access the internet. They have bypassed the desktop altogether. Mr. Zhou emphasized that mobile internet access is improving people's lives around the world. He gave an energetic opening speech that got me excited to see the developments in the pipeline from the world's biggest technology companies.

Gao Xinmin
Vice President
Internet Society of China

The Internet Society of China (ISC) is a non-governmental organization that promotes the development of China's internet. The Society has more than 400 members, which include some of the biggest organizations operating in China, such as Baidu, Yahoo and Microsoft.

Gao Xinmin, ISC's vice president, talked about the importance of mobile internet in China. Over 800 million people in the country have internet access, and most of them use mobile devices. This number may seem staggering, but with a population of 1.35 billion, there are still a lot of people without access. This number is certain to grow in the next few years.

Mr. Xinmin also talked about Internet+ (Internet Plus), a new government policy to integrate the internet with modern manufacturing. As industrial production slows in China, a move toward the mobile internet economy will drive future economic growth.

This Forbes article has more information on Internet+.

Wen Chu
Founder & CEO
GWC

Bin Lin
President
Xiaomi

Wen Chu interviewed Bin Lin to get his thoughts on Xiaomi. The company is the third largest smartphone manufacturer in the world, trailing only Samsung and Apple. Xiaomi sold 61 million units last year, and is expected to sell 80-100 million units in 2015. During the interview, Mr. Lin showed off his company's newest flagship phone, available soon.

According to Mr. Lin, one of Xiaomi's biggest challenges is keeping up with demand. The company has plans to expand into India. They recently received a large investment from Tata, a conglomerate that was founded in 1868 and earned $103 billion in revenue last year.

Mr. Lin repeatedly asked the audience, “Are you OK?” Apparently, this was an inside joke referencing a recent speech given by the company's CEO. Joke or not, for Xiaomi, the answer is an emphatic “yes.”

George Zhao
President
Huawei Honor

George Zhao made one of the most interesting remarks I heard at the GMIC. It was translated roughly as, “Pigs can fly in the wind, but when the wind stops blowing, they all fall. We need to be birds instead.”

This may have been a poor translation, or maybe it relates to a Chinese proverb that I'm unaware of. But at any rate, I took this as a commentary on innovation. Mr. Zhao showed a photograph of a pub he visited in Dusseldorf, Germany that was 380 years old. Napoleon supposedly ate there. It was still in good condition, and it was still doing good business. A place of such high quality doesn't need to innovate. But cellphone manufacturers are not German pubs.

Mr. Zhao praised Steve Jobs but criticized Apple. He said that the iPhone 6 has a big screen, but nothing else in the way of innovation. He was especially critical of the iPhone's short battery life.

According to Mr. Zhao (again, this could be a poor translation), Huawei is like a stupid bird. They don't wait for the wind to fly. People want a high-quality phone with a long battery life. A phone that will survive a drop from 1.8 meters.

Of course, Mr. Zhao had a solution: the Huawei Honor. It feels like silk and comes with a 3600 mAh battery, which should last two days under normal use. Its dual 8MP cameras and 3GB of RAM are competitive with other modern phones.

But most impressive was the price. When Mr. Zhao and a colleague from Alibaba announced that the phone will cost 799 - 999 rmb ($129 - $161), the audience gasped. For comparison, the iPhone 6 costs around 6000 rmb in China. At this price point, millions of Chinese consumers will be able to buy their first smartphones.

After watching Mr. Zhao's presentation, I could feel the energy in the crowd. He did a great job getting people interested in his company's products.

Matt Grob
CTO
Qualcomm

Matt Grob began his speech with some mind-boggling statistics: 86% of people accessing the internet in China do so on a mobile device. Last year, 100 million people in China used the internet for the first time. By 2020, 25-50 billion devices will be connected worldwide.

Mr. Grob then laid out some of Qualcomm's priorities. Higher bandwidths clearly will be needed in the near future. To alleviate the bandwidth dilemma, his company has created technology to aggregate carriers, yielding up to three times faster download speeds. Security is also a priority. Qualcomm's next-generation fingerprint reader will do a better job at identifying users, even when they have sweat or oil on their fingers. Another priority is adding proximate services to automobiles. Cars will become more connected, allowing them to warn each another of upcoming hazards.

Finally, Mr. Grob showed off his company's new Zeroth technology. In an amazing live demo, he put several pictures in front of a video camera, and a computer gave a description of the images. It was fast and accurate. This was one of the most impressive demos I saw at GMIC.

As this technology matures, I think it could render QR codes obsolete. Imagine pointing your phone's camera at anything and immediately getting information about it. It could even be applied to autonomous cars. All sorts of breakthroughs could come from this sort of AI.

Mark Ren
COO
Tencent

Mark Ren of Tencent talked quite a bit about wearables, specifically smart watches. The biggest disadvantage with most smart watches is that they have limited functionality when not in range of a smartphone. Tencent will soon release an operating system to be used in many types of devices connected to the internet. When implemented in a watch, users will be able to go for a jog, order a taxi, reserve a table at a restaurant and check in for a flight, all without being connected to a separate device.

Tencent owns some of the biggest social networks in China, including QQ and WeChat, so this operating system could make a huge impact on wearable technology, if it gains industry acceptance.

Hiroshi Ishiguro
Distinguished Professor
Osaka University

Hiroshi Ishiguro was one of the most famous presenters at the conference. The professor from Osaka University in Japan has focused much of his career on robotics. Specifically, he wants to build a robot that is indistinguishable from a human being. At this year's GMIC, he introduced his latest android (Yang Song), who stood next to her human counterpart. The robot gave a long speech in Mandarin, swiveling her torso and gesturing with her arms the whole time.

Unfortunately, this android didn't come anywhere near convincing the audience that she was, in fact, human. Her movements were, well, robotic. She was slow to respond to commands. When a human who was standing next to her offered a handshake, she awkwardly lifted her arm and continued to face forward. Later, I saw her at the exhibition and noticed that her electric power and CPU were located in an external unit. How long until Moore's Law enables Mr. Ishiguro to embed this unit inside one of his androids?

The robotic Hang Song didn't exactly creep me out, but unfortunately, I think she still falls into the “uncanny valley” that everyone from robot makers to movie animators try to avoid. (This article explains the uncanny valley.) I think the problem is, until a robot appears so real that humans don't realize it's a robot, it's going to seem creepy. We're a long way from that achievement, but I'm glad pioneers like Mr. Ishiguro are working hard to get us there.

Chang-Hwan Lee
CEO
FXGear

Chang-Hwan Lee introduced his company's latest product, the FXMirror. The concept is simple enough: a computer screen acts as a virtual mirror. You can see how you would look in various outfits, without having to change clothes. Here is the company's promotional video for the FXMirror.

Because you can use the FXMirror without changing clothes, it could save you a lot of time in selecting an outfit. And FXMirror makes it easy to share pictures of yourself wearing your new virtual clothing.

Unfortunately, the live demo was buggy. The dresses didn't cover the model's whole body, so her real clothing appeared as a white line along her torso. Her virtual clothes looked cartoon-ish, not three-dimensional. And even if FXGear works these kinks out of its system, will people really buy clothing without being able to feel the fabric on their bodies? Obviously, online shopping already exists, so the reason people still buy clothes in malls is to try on actual clothing. Does this technology improve enough upon old-fashioned mirrors for department stores to justify buying one? I hate to be a naysayer, but this product looks like an expensive gimmick.

Rick Bergman
CEO
Synaptics

Like many other presenters, Rick Bergman opened with some mind-blowing statistics. Currently, 50,000 apps are downloaded from the Apple Store, and 10 million messages are sent on WeChat every minute. Clearly, mobile technology is here to stay, so what does the future look like?

Mr. Bergman laid it out in four phases:

Phase 1 will give us better displays. Smartphones with 4K screen resolution will be here within a few years. So will curved and bendable screens.

Phase 2 is personalization. Your phone will know who you are, and you won't need to memorize lengthy passwords. More sophisticated fingerprint and retina scanners are on the way. Synaptics is a member of the FIDO (Fast IDentity Online) Alliance, which should increase interoperability between devices, allowing users to be identified with fewer passwords. (Here is FIDO's website.)

Phase 3 is contextual awareness. Your phone will have a better understanding of your environment. Augmented Reality will become commonplace.

Phase 4 is omnipresence. Trillions of devices will exist by this point. Mr. Bergman showed a chart that illustrated the exponential decay in the weight of electronic devices. Computers went from taking up whole rooms in the 1950s, to desktops in the '80s, to laptops in the 2000s, to smartphones today. Soon, wearables will become commonplace. By 2040, computers will weigh one gram, the weight of a paperclip. These nano-devices will have all sorts of applications, not only in the environment, but also inside the human body.

Mr. Bergman presented an exciting look into the future. What I'm wondering is, how long until we have nanobots swimming through our bloodstream, seeking out and eliminating cancerous cells and other diseases before we even know they're there?

Picture of William Wang and Joost Schreve.

Joost Schreve
VP Mobile
TripAdvisor

William Wang
CEO
AA Car

Travel is one of my biggest passions, so I was especially interested in this discussion. Joost Schreve said that when he traveled in the '90s, he used to carry a guidebook everywhere he went. Then, in the 2000s, internet cafes became the dominant way travelers got information. Nowadays, people travel with smartphones, so they can find reviews on hotels and restaurants using TripAdvisor, from almost everywhere in the world. (I still prefer to get travel advice by talking face-to-face with other human beings, but I'll admit, smartphones are pretty cool.)

William Wang talked about his company and its attempt to displace Uber in China. Actually he pointed out that Uber never had a large market share in the country. They simply ignored China at first, and now they're the underdog. In the last few years, ride-sharing apps have been a disruptive technology worldwide. China is no exception.

For me, the most interesting facet of this discussion wasn't TripAdvisor or AA Car. It was the fact that these two men, who didn't share a common language, could have a discussion, with limited interruption. The bilingual moderator helped, but there were times when Mr. Schreve and Mr. Wang seemed to interact like old pals, even though they couldn't understand each other. The technology that made this possible was not new, and I never heard it discussed at the conference. It was an earpiece that everyone wore, with an unseen person translating in real-time.

What's the future of this technology?

Currently, it's possible for anyone with enough money to hire a translator to follow them around. You could also hire someone who is working from home to translate conversations over the internet. Maybe such a service already exists. How long until a computer can do this, without needing a human middleman? In the not-so-distant future, I could see a computer translator that would make learning a new language unnecessary. I'm passionate about both languages and technology, so this is both a sad and exciting thought.

Picture of Dippak Khurana, Richard Robinson and Steven Goh.

Richard Robinson
Co-Founder
Yolu

Dippak Khurana
CEO & Co-Founder
Vserv

Steven Goh
CEO
mig.me

Dippak Khurana gave some more amazing statistics. Last year, 100 million new people began to use the internet in India. There are currently 200 million mobile users in the country. By 2018 that number will balloon to 600 million. Most people in India are being introduced to the internet via smartphones; they have never used a desktop computer. Today, India has 500 million app downloads per month.

My main takeaway from this discussion was that India today is where China was five years ago, in terms of its mobile internet. The market is not yet saturated, so it's a really exciting time to be in India.

Rui Ma
Investment Partner
500 Startups

Rui Ma mentioned that Facebook isn't accessible in China. She was the first (and only) person at the GMIC I heard bring up this fact. She also reiterated that Uber moved into the Chinese market too late. It is the dominant ride-sharing app in the rest of the world, but in China, it's playing catch-up.

Ms. Ma noted that humans are terrible at predicting the future. This was interesting to hear, considering that her firm, 500 Startups, attempts to do just that. This statement really made me think about all of the GMIC. The entire conference exists to give us a glimpse at future technologies. How many of the things I saw will actually make it into the marketplace?

Another interesting thing that Ms. Ma noted was that Silicon Valley is the least global and least responsive region on the planet. This is simply because the US is huge, and it's already saturated with the latest technologies. Smaller markets are much better at adapting to changing trends. It's an interesting thought, and one that I'm sure guides her in deciding which companies to invest in.

Danielle Levitas
SVP Research & Analysis
App Annie

App Annie studies trends in the global app economy, and Danielle Levitas gave us an extensive analysis. Google Play gets more downloads than the Apple Store, but the Apple Store makes more money. Apple still is lagging in China, but they are putting in a lot of effort to expand their market share. Currently, there are 21 Apple Stores in the country. By the end of next year, there will be 40.

Hardware and software developers are increasing their focus on China, and it's easy to see why. China's vast population makes the market too lucrative to ignore. China is currently overtaking the US in terms of mobile users and downloads. It will continue to have more users than any other country for the foreseeable future.

As for trends in devices, larger phones are starting to take away some market share from tablets. Therefore, the tablet market will soften in the near future, and wearables will grow. Phones, of course, will dominate.

Finally, Ms. Levitas discussed software. Games have dominated on mobile devices, and this will continue in the future. One surprising stat is that educational software is also growing at 25% per year. This indicates that people are interested in using their phones for more than just fun and games.

Takeaways

I was thoroughly impressed at this year's GMIC. The conference center was huge and modern, and the speakers were amazing. There was a palpable optimism in the air, about China, the world and the future of mobile technology. The one thing I was hoping to hear more of was improvements in battery life (George Zhao excluded). Nowadays, it seems that power banks (those large batteries that can charge phones) are standard for people to lug around all day. I would love to get back to a time when a phone's battery life is measured in days instead of hours.

Much has changed in China over the last decade. It's exciting to witness the country's continuing progress firsthand. The GMIC laid out a wonderful future for China. I can't wait to see what happens next.

More Photos From the Presentations
More Photos From the Convention Center

GMIC Beijing's Website

The Smartest Air Filter In China

The Smart Air DIY.

I've been living in Beijing, China since last August. Whenever I talk to friends in other countries, the subject of air pollution comes up. Is it really as bad as the international media makes it out to be?

Yes and no.

Sometimes we get blue skies in Beijing, especially after a day of strong wind or rain clears the smoggy air. But then the pollution builds. If we go more than ten days without much wind or rain, the pollution can reach horrendous levels.

The typical metric used to measure air pollution is the PM2.5 count. This measures the concentration of particles that are 2.5 micrometers in diameter. A PM2.5 count below 50 is considered healthy. As I write this, Los Angeles is at 60 (moderate, few people will be affected).

Late last year, the PM2.5 count in Beijing reached 500.

Some friends and I rode across the city in a taxi that night. Visibility was so low, I felt like I was in Grand Theft Auto, and the background wasn't rendering properly. Or maybe “pea soup fog” is a better analogy. Either way, it was quite scary. Buildings, cars and people seemed to appear out of nowhere. I was worried there would be a traffic jam (a common occurrence in the city), and our driver wouldn't see it until it was too late.

Luckily, it rarely gets that bad. Typically, the level is high, but tolerable. And we usually get at least one blue sky day every week.

One thing I've learned since moving here is that everyone who can afford an air filter has one. The name brand filters are about twice the size of a desktop computer tower (remember those?), with blinking lights and other bells and whistles. They tend to cost upwards of $1000, with some models costing far more. Katie and I almost bought one right away, with the thought that you couldn't put a price on our health. But then I heard about Smart Air, a new company that aims to make air filters available to the masses. The concept is simple: buy a desktop fan and Velcro a HEPA filter to the front. Smart Air sells their fan/filter combos for $33. Replacement filters are $14. They ain't pretty, but the price is right.

I bought their DIY kit and set it up. After running the fan for a day, I was astonished. A dark circle had already formed on the front of it. After two months, I changed the filter. Here are the “before and after” photos:

Brand new.

After two months of use.

Of course this isn't scientific, but it sure looks like the filter did its job. It's scary to think of the amount of soot that would have ended up in my lungs had I not been using a filter.

Smart Air has some more extensive empirical data on their website. They even compare their filters with the most popular brands. The most expensive filters did perform slightly better than the HEPA filters that Smart Air sells, but at a significant cost.

I've become a big fan of my Smart Air fan. I plan to continue using it as long as I'm in Beijing. What do you think?

External Websites:
Smart Air
More info about PM2.5 from the EPA
Current pollution levels

Back to Civilization?

The Twelve Apostles

Missed the earlier sections? Here they are:
[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4]

Jan 5, 2015
Day 172
Great Ocean Walk, Day 5

Once again, I got up early, made breakfast and took down camp. I only had about sixteen kilometers to go, so I knew it would be a short day. Soon enough, I would be back in civilization. But for now I wanted to focus on the final bit of solitude that this trek could offer. Once again, I left camp alone, before Leon and Renee were up. I figured I wouldn't see them again.

The landscapes were more open than they had been the previous few days, with some broad fields and few trees. The cliffs prevented me from walking on the beach, not that I was keen to dig my boots into the sand anymore. The weather was great: warm, with blue skies.

Signs of civilization gradually appeared. First, I saw a couple of isolated farm houses. Later, I heard the noise of cars driving along a nearby road. And finally, people! The trail took me close to the village of Princetown, where Leon and Renee planned to grab lunch. And I passed a caravan park, full of people packing up their trailers after a long weekend of camping. I continued along the trail, and soon I was alone once again.

I walked up one final hill and got a glimpse of the majestic Twelve Apostles in the distance. Soon I reached a lookout point, with a plaque confirming that indeed, I had been walking on correct trail for the last five days. Then I saw two older ladies wearing yoga pants and day packs, carrying a trekking pole in each hand. They had started walking at the Twelve Apostles and would likely hike to Princetown before turning around. They were among the first day-hikers I had met on the trail.

Eventually I reached the Gibson Steps, just a few minutes from the end of the 100 KM hike. Hundreds of tourists were slowly making their way to the beach for a good view of the Twelve Apostles. I also walked down the steps, though with a different motive. I wanted to hitch a ride back to Geelong (public transportation was hard to find in these parts), but I was filthy and smelly from five days' walking without a shower. I had to do something about my body odor before I would have a prayer of catching a ride. Absent a shower, I figured an ocean bath would be my next best bet.

The gentle beach.

When I reached the beach at the bottom of the Steps, I saw that ocean was so turbulent, getting even close to the water would be a hazardous proposition. But I had to do something – my own stench was almost enough to knock me out. I walked away from the crowds and found a semi-private place to change into my swimsuit. I waited for the swell to drop, then I walked to the edge of the water, soap bar in hand. A giant wave crested, higher than my head, and I wished I had thought about this plan more thoroughly. I sucked in my breath, twisted my head and shoulders away from the wave and braced myself for a beat-down. The water hit me with such force, it brought me to my knees. Before I could react, another wave hit, and I found myself scraping along the sand, totally submerged. I rolled a few times, then somehow clung to the ground while the water was sucked outward. The wave left as quickly as it had come, and I took a fresh breath. I was disoriented, but I quickly figured out which direction was inland and ran. When the next wave struck, it only came up to my knees. Against all odds, I was still clinging to the bar of soap, but I decided not to lather up. No way I was going back into that swell to rinse off. I walked back to my backpack, caught my breath and brushed off as much sand from my scraped skin as I could. Then I put on my clean Hawaiian shirt and made my way back up the Steps. I hadn't exactly “bathed,” but I still felt like a new man.

From the top of the Steps, I walked the last few hundred meters to the Twelve Apostles Visitor Centre, the official end of the Great Ocean Walk. The building, full of overpriced food, souvenirs and tourists, was anti-climactic. Still, after five days and 100 KM of walking, I was ready to move on.

I walked out to the highway to look for a good place to hitchhike. Unfortunately, traffic was flying by, and there was no safe place for cars to pull over. I considered walking east with my thumb in the air (but not raised so high that unpleasant odors might escape). Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. Renee was marching up the road, calling my name. It turned out that she and Leon had boarded a public bus a few miles back, and they had seen me walking. The bus had stopped at the Visitor Centre. In a few minutes, it would continue to the town of Warrnambool, from where we could take a train back to the city. I thanked Renee for finding me, and we headed to the bus together.

I paid the bus driver $4.60 for my ticket to Warrnambool and took a seat. A few other people were aboard, looking anxious to leave. Ten minutes after our scheduled departure time, a middle-aged couple climbed aboard. The bus driver hit the gas and said, “You're ten minutes late. You're lucky I didn't leave without you.”

“We were guaranteed thirty minutes at Twelve Apostles!” the man who had just boarded yelled, in a German accent, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You only gave us twenty minutes.”

“I have a schedule to follow,” the driver said. “We got here late because of a traffic jam. I'm still supposed to leave on time.”

“You are late because you drive too slow! We come here from Europe to see Twelve Apostles!”

“This is a public bus,” the driver said calmly. “You can join a tour group if you want to see the Twelve Apostles. Or rent a car.”

“I know the law here. You cannot make us miss Twelve Apostles. We come all the way from Europe!”

“Take a seat!” a woman yelled. “You're making us all late.”

The German man appeared to become self-conscious from his tantrum. He finally shut up and sat next to his mortified wife. We continued along the Great Ocean Road and pulled into a parking lot.

Loch Ard Gorge.

“This is the famous Loch Ard Gorge,” the driver said. “I would explain its history, but due to circumstances, we don't have time. We leave in ten minutes.”

The German man grunted, but he didn't say anything. I shuffled off of the bus, along with everyone else. To me, this situation was hilarious. I had already seen Loch Ard Gorge, so I didn't mind spending only a short time there. Everyone other than the German couple seemed fine with our short stop. Leon, Renee and I ran up to the lookout point, snapped a few photos and ran back to the bus. I felt like Clark Griswald checking out the Grand Canyon in Vacation.

We stopped at a couple more national landmarks for about five minutes each, then continued to a small town. At this point, the German man revealed that he and his wife were staying there. The driver stopped the bus and they got out. They had come “all the way from Europe” to spend $5 to ride a public bus that wasn't even meant for sightseeing. And their accommodation was less than an hour's walk from the Twelve Apostles and Loch Ard Gorge. As I watched the Germans shuffle to their hotel, I realized that this was the most entertained I had been in a week. I thanked Renee again for showing me this bus.

Reading on the train.

The bus dropped us off at the train station in Warrnambool. Leon and Renee bought tickets for Melbourne, and I got a ticket for Geelong. The train was big, clean and comfortable. We rode inland, passing many cattle ranches along the way. I did some reading on my Kindle and watched the scenery go by. It was a great way to end my trek.

When we reached Geelong, I said goodbye to my fellow hikers. Craig was waiting for me in the parking lot. He had decked out his van with surfboards and a kayak. We drove to a national park and set up camp. Craig kneaded a ball of dough, which he then sealed in a cast iron container and covered with coals from our campfire. The result was a loaf of delicious damper. We sat around the fire and shared our stories from the last few days. Craig loaned me his swag (traditional Australian bedroll) and I slept under the stars. Maybe I wouldn't be back in civilization quite so soon, after all.