A Blog is Not a Mirror

social media is a dark mirrorSocial Media is not a mirror.

Instead of being a mirror, apps like Facebook and Instagram can make feelings of depression and loneliness worse.

These platforms show idealised versions of other people’s lives that we can confuse with reality.

Who is updating their Instagram of pictures that show the days they can’t get out of bed? Sharing pictures from when eat junk, because they can’t be bothered cooking. Uploading when their relationships are troubled.

Is there evidence that the beautiful people who share the most selfies are the most insecure? Or any studies on endless pictures of happy couples being them over compensating? I don’t think there is any conclusive data on these things.

Just the same, it seems like we shouldn’t confuse the edited highlights of lives we see online with our own.

Writing about adventure

The Flat Foot Adventure is a blog about adventure, and very little else. It’s not a mirror to my life.

I have kept journals and blogs online where I talk about what’s going on in the day to day of my life. This is purposefully not one of them. It’s a place to write about adventures. It exists to inspire people to have adventures of their own, and entertain people who prefer their life quieter.

I wasn’t writing about how I lost my job in 2009 before I went to Peru. I didn’t devote a blog post to how I ended up crying in a bar in Cusco because my cat of 18 years had recently passed away. These things were going on in the background.

What I don’t cover here is my struggles with depression and anxiety.

Although they represent part of the blog’s theme of overcoming adversity, I am not comfortable talking about it.

My mental health issues affect my behaviour and as a result affects my relationships in negative ways. I don’t write about the really bad decisions I make.

Or maybe I am just a flawed person making some bad decisions, and in addition also has other issues. And sometimes adventures.

The point is, keep reading this blog for adventures. Go find adventures of your own, of whatever size. But don’t read this blog and think your own life is inferior, because it isn’t. You are doing the best you can.

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Adventures Old and New

watching the sunrise on adventures in PeruWay back in 2009, I went on an adventure to Peru. One of those once-in-a-lifetime adventures type things.

A one off adventure, inspired by people who had done or were doing similar things.

Except it wasn’t a one off and it didn’t end there.

A five day hike to the lost city of Machu Picchu in 2009 inspired this blog, the Flat Foot Adventurer.

In 2011, I traded remote mountain paths for the Arctic tundra of Norway. Instead of high mountain paths I was driving a sled and a pack of huskies through the snow and across frozen lakes.

Since then, the adventures continue. I raced on a dragon boat team, moved to Australia, tracked nesting sea turtles on deserted beaches, started a street roller hockey team, and kept looking for more adventures.

Adventures in 2017 and Beyond

Adventures tracking turtles on Thevenard islandIt’s now 2017.

In December, I travel to WA’s Thevenard island to join the flatback turtle monitoring program, counting tracks, tagging turtles, and collecting data.

Next September, I plan to embark on my biggest and most challenging adventure yet. I will be joining Raleigh International as a volunteer on an expedition for three months in Nicaragua and Costa Rica.

Volunteers will be working with rural communities in remote areas of Central America. Protecting one of the most bio-diverse places on the planet, projects can involve working on a water and sanitation initiatives to bring clean water to rural communities, or constructing school buildings for indigenous communities.

On the expedition as a volunteer communications officer, I am not getting paid. Due to Raleigh International being a registered charity I need to fundraise for them, and various charity fundraising activities and begging will follow. In addition, there will be some unashamed requests for funds to help me cover the period I will be in a remote Central American jungle instead of at a desk in Perth.

This will make the next year a challenge all of its own.

Adventures in Costa Rica awaitI set up today the Facebook page for The Flat Foot Adventurer.

After eight years of adventures it deserves to have one! Previous adventures had pages, but lost relevance when the adventures were complete.

It makes sense for there to be one page for sharing these adventures to.

Stay tuned for more adventures!

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The big relocation

Perth at sunsetAs adventures go, moving to Australia was a big one.

Packing up your life into boxes, hurling them into the great void (or just getting professional and reliable movers to ship them to the other side of the world), as well as applying for visas, getting various checks and the actual moving.

It was about four years ago that a flat in London’s Docklands was packed into boxes, cleaned and emptied. Three and a half years ago that I arrived in Australia.

It’s fitting, then, that I have relocated again. A really big relocation. A move from one suburb to about 5 minutes down the road.

The thing is, whether you’re relocating from England to Australia, or from North Perth to Joondanna, some things aren’t all that different.

Space to Move

First, you have to find somewhere to live. You can’t move if you don’t have somewhere to move to. That’s like a Newtonian law of physics. Or the universe. Or something.

Living in Perth, post-mining boom, we’re pretty lucky. Unlike Sydney and Melbourne, rent is affordable here and renters are in a better position than owners.

Finding a place to live in London involved a kind of pantomime. You enquire after properties, get told they had been let already, and end up somewhere completely different.

In Perth, things seem a lot easier these days (I missed the mining boom, and understand it was a different story in that period.) You visit the website of letting agents and find places you want to live. You view it, apply for it, get accepted almost right away, and that’s kind of it.

Bodies, Rest and Motion

WA TransitionsI figure if we’re going to start claiming moving house to be some kind of Newtonian deal, I might as well use related subheadings.

A place to live was surprisingly easy to find. Finding a reliable removalist turned out to be just as painless. I used the OneFlare website to get quotes and info from local businesses, and they weren’t unreasonable.

However, comparing reviews online I found a different removalist that prides itself on being different to most. WA Transition Removals describe themselves as “more than just a removalist” — and right away I found they weren’t what you’d expect.

In my correspondence with the owner, John, he made suggestions and told me what to check with other quotes. He didn’t tell me anyone was wrong, or promise to beat any other quote I had. Instead, he offered advice. I quickly knew that this was the right company for my move.

Included in the service wasn’t just removal, or using the right size vehicle for the job, but also full disassembly and reinstallation of furniture and white goods, together with a code of conduct, from focused, smart moving, and respectful employees with a great attitude.

The Day Itself

Living in PerthAs these things go, moving day came up on me all too quickly.

Ryan and Tim from WA Transition Removals arrive as expected at 10am, and by 1pm everything is taken apart, packed, loaded, moved, unloaded, reassembled and reconnected in my new place.

What’s more, they were everything promised. They had a reputation to uphold, and I hadn’t expected to be surprised — of course they would be helpful and hard working, all the rest. But they really went above and beyond.

When I left around 12pm so I could go fetch my cat from the vet’s, and the trip took longer than I expected, I wasn’t worried. I knew that everything was in safe hands, and it’s not often you happily leave two strangers you just met with all your worldly belongings and your new house.

Some little things go that extra mile. Ryan pointed out after they connected the washing machine that one of the taps needed a plumber to come out. It wasn’t his problem if my washing machine worked. Just the same, he didn’t just leave it at he’d moved it and connected it.

Together Tim and Ryan offered advice on furniture if I wasn’t sure where to put it. Then, when they unloaded a large, bulky wardrobe that I confessed I didn’t even want, they cheerfully offered to just take it away. No charge, no fuss, and no drama that they had just unloaded it from the van.

Everything was done with good humour and professionalism, but working quickly and efficiently, and every minute I was so glad I had them helping.

Seriously, if you are moving a 5 minute drive down the road to the next suburb, or if you are moving across the country, these are the people you want helping.

In a New Place

And now here I am. in a new place.

I’m no longer able to guess what time it is from the volume of the traffic outside the window, I am now woken up by strange and unfamiliar noises — people walking past outside, or the sound of the garden reticulation turning on.

The adventure continues…

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Down in the Sand

Bells Beach in Point Samson doesn’t show up on Google maps. After several attempts to reach the beach that hit private roads or entrances to mine sites, I arrived at the sand of a pristine and deserted shore.Boat beach, Point Samson

Shortly after sunrise, I was met by the program coordinator where we assembled with the other trainee volunteers.

You see, one does not simply just walk onto a beach and start monitoring marine turtles. Or, in this case, their tracks. It takes training.

Training starts with a hidden backpack. A backpack for volunteers inside a locked metal box. Hidden behind a sign. The backpack contains essential items including a clipboard, sheets of paper for recording turtle activity, a GPS tracker, a tape-measure and other important items.

It turns out Bells Beach wasn’t the pristine beach, but instead about a 10 minute walk away over sand dunes, hills, and long grass.

Our very first job on the beach involved a large stick. Bells Beach timeline

One of the most important things with tracking the activity of marine turtles is being able to distinguish what is new and is old activity. To do this, you need to establish a timeline in the sand.

To establish a timeline on a beach, a volunteer takes the stick and marks a line in the sand over the top of the line drawn the previous day. Any tracks that cross over the top of the previous day’s line are new. The fresh line drawn resets the timeline for the next day.

What happens when you find a fresh track? That’s where the items in the backpack come in useful.

Turtle Tracks

First, turtles leave two tracks: an emerge track and a return track. The names are quite self explanatory: when the turtle emerges from the ocean and leaves a track up the beach that is the emerge track. As the turtle returns to the ocean it is a return track.

Telling the two apart is vital for finding if a turtle has nested, and for a new volunteer this means getting down in the sand. Because of the way turtles almost swim through the sand, they push the sand behind them.

Why care which track is which? Turtles don’t necessarily decisively emerge from the ocean, make a nest, and then return. Sometimes they might try digging several pits for nesting. Sometimes they will traverse about the beach before returning to the water. If you follow their emerge track you could be led on a wild goose chase. Or, in this case, a wild marine turtle track.

By following their return track, you find their last activity. A turtle doesn’t nest and then wander about for a while longer.

West Pilbara Turtle Program volunteersAs volunteers, we then had to identify the breed of turtle whose tracks we had found. This is where the tape-measure would come in useful — to distinguish a flatback turtle from a loggerhead, green or hawksbill turtle. Each turtle leaves different tracks, which also differ in size — so when in doubt, down in the sand you go.

Nine times out of ten, the turtle is a flatback on Bell’s Beach. 100% of the turtles I recorded on the beach were flatback, but just the same — you have to be sure.

False Crawl

With a turtle identified by breed, we had to record if it nested. A false crawl is when a turtle emerges from the ocean, and doesn’t nest — for whatever reason. Sometimes a turtle might start to dig, hit a root or a rock and be put off. Sometimes a turtle might just not feel like. Sometimes a turtle could get spooked, and be frightened away before they lay their eggs.

But sometimes, a turtle did nest…

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The journey from Karratha

have ute, will travelI landed in Karratha on Tuesday morning on my adventure to save the turtles. Stepping off the plane shortly before midday, I was immediately hit by a wave of heat.

When asked if I’d been to Karratha before, I had joked that the furthest north I’d been before was Perth’s suburb of Yanchep. While that wasn’t true (I’d been to Cervantes which is 200km north of Perth) there’s a big difference between Cervantes and Karratha.

A short while after landing I’d already grabbed my bag, and found my hire car. Except it wasn’t the car I’d expected.

Instead of the 4WD SUV I had requested, I was to be driving a slightly battered ute that seemed to be the vehicle of choice for a region where 90% of people worked on the mines.

After figuring out how to drive it, I was on my way. I had no satnav, and my phone battery was dead, so relied on remembering the directions I’d been given by the booking desk.

Had the directions been to go left-right-left? Or left-right-right? The name on the road sign sounded familiar, but was that because it was where I was headed, or was it just mentioned, and I should have been going the other way?

The radio in my ute didn’t work, so I had to amuse myself. It’s funny how few songs you can remember when you just want to sing to pass the time.

But I drove. And I drove. I drove some more. And after a while I started to wonder, was I even going the right way? How could I tell? There were no signs, other than the markers counting down to the next town.

Pulling into a rest stop in the hope of finding someone to ask, the only other people around were some grey nomads with a caravan. Unconvinced they’d know the way to Point Samson, either, I left them in peace.

There would be somewhere I could stop. A petrol station. Another town. Something.

I kept going.

As the marker for the next town counted down I scanned ahead for signs of civilisation. 5km came. And it went. Without any town. The markers started counting down to the next place, more than another 100km away.

There was nothing else for it. I’d driven for an hour or more already, but there was no way I was driving any further. I turned the ute around, put my foot down and drove back to Karratha — to the petrol station that was a short distance outside of the city.

The directions really must have been the left-right-left, and I had been driving in completely the wrong direction. Luckily, another traveller in the petrol station was heading the same way as me, and told me I could just follow him.

Wolf Creek was just a story…wasn’t it?

But what if this was a trap? These weren’t busy roads and it wouldn’t take much for the guy to get me to follow him down some track… At what point would I realise the trap? How could I escape or raise the alarm?

My over-active imagination was at least some entertainment on the long, dusty road. I tried to get the two-way radio to work just for something to listen to — or be able to use to call for help — but my attention was better focused on the road ahead.

Eventually my guide turned off to the town of Wickham, my destination of Point Samson was less than 10km further. He waved me on without ever trying to lure me to some remote killing field.

Arriving at my accommodation, I showered, changed, charged my phone and set out to find the beach where I would be tracking and monitoring the turtle nesting.

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Save the Turtles, Save the World

Flatback turtle Photo © Doug Perrine nwf.org Save the turtles, save the world. I’m going to save the turtles this November. It’s really happening.

The Adventure

Last year, I talked here about the WPTP, that monitors the numbers of nesting marine turtles, and judges the success of their nests.

I wanted to get involved with the program, but it was a long way from Perth. Over 1,600km from Perth: and to put that into perspective, it’s about 4,000km from Perth to Sydney.

With a trip back to England last December, and a shortage of both funds and annual leave, the adventure has had to wait.

This year, things are different. Flights are booked. Accommodation is booked. Even the hire car is reserved.

Driving to Karratha would add an extra two days to the journey in each direction, and so it isn’t practical to make part of the adventure getting to the West Pilbara. But the important part is my new motto for this adventure: save the turtles, save the world.

Threatened Flatback Turtles

The threatened flatback is native to Australia, and nest only in Australia.

With cultural, spiritual and economic importance to Indigenous Australians from coastal regions, these ancient mariners have existed for more than 100 million years. Modern humans are considered to have evolved around 200,000 years ago, and what we call civilisation has existed for about 6,000 years. We are new kids in the neighbourhood to the flatback turtle

But changes to air and sea temperatures, rising sea levels, and other aspects that may come with climate change all threaten their survival.

Turtles can take up to 50 years to become a breeding adult. Ongoing monitoring and tracking is important if the flatback turtle is going to survive.

This adventure is in the early stages right now: all I know is how I am getting there and where I am resting my weary head. Which is important. Training on how to monitor the turtle tracks will be provided, then I just need to get some good photographs.

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Bleed for your ‘burb: the flat-footed adventurer and street hockey

Perth Glory Holez vs Roleystone Henges

Perth Glory Holez vs Roleystone Henges

It’s a Thursday night, and I’m playing hockey on the roof of a multi-story car park.

To understand how I got here, you have to know that I declared 2013 “the Year of the Dragon.”

You see, that was an impulsive thing.

One day I was taking part in a corporate team building dragon boat racing event — for a company I didn’t even work for, the next I was finding and joining a dragon boat club in London.

I was lucky. The team I joined trained at a regatta a short walking distance from my flat in Docklands, and I quickly warmed to the team sport culture of training together then drinking together.

An equally impulsive adventure goal was set: I would compete with the team in an international event before the end of the year. Within weeks, I was racing in a dragon boat, competing to the steady beat of a drum against other teams from around the UK.

But it wasn’t an international event. And, I didn’t ever meet that goal. But that was OK, because I did make friends and did enjoy training and competing. You can read various posts about it on here.

It was also my impulsive behaviour that had me sign up for the Inca trail, and my Arctic adventure, and abseiling down the side of Australia’s tallest building. At least with the year of the dragon I had tried it before I joined a team.

Street Hockey

Not so with Perth’s street roller hockey league.

Although I have some friends that played, a desire to join in myself wasn’t something that had crossed my mind. One day, an impulse came on me to write a feature article about the sport and the league. Even then, my interest was entirely journalistic.

I talked to friends, I talked to the league’s founder and commissioner, I was introduced to people and made new friends. I went to a game, took photos, and drank a beer with my friends and their team mates.

It was probably about then that I started thinking about playing. “But I can’t skate!” I’d tell people, and I’d be told in reply “there’s no ‘can’t skate’ — only people who have never skated, and people who can skate.”

There was two possible options. The way I saw it, I could buy skates, and spend a few months practicing, or I could find a team, get some skates, and then learn to play.

I was encouraged to do the latter. My impulsive, thrill-seeking, lizard brain approved of this course of action.

Yokine Drugs n’ Crime

Yokine Drugs n Crime

I was invited to join a team from Perth’s suburb of Yokine (Yokine Drugs n’ Crime, named after the Aussie hip hop song of the same name) and when I went to watch them play, unprompted I was lent a pair of skates and a stick, and spent time skating about, practicing skating with a hockey stick, and passing the puck back and forth with other players.

Perth’s SRHL is unique in Australia — there’s no other street roller hockey league like it in the country, and it’s already spawned a spin-off league in London. But one of the most important differences between this league and other sports is the emphasis on just having a go. If you fall over and miss a goal, nobody minds — and it’s frowned upon to be too competitive.

It’s incredibly welcoming, as I’ve found, and you can go from never having skated to playing for your team in the space of about a week.

That’s definitely a good thing if you’re impulsive.

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The Amazing Aussie Adventure: Hyden Seek

Wave Rock, Hyden

source: http://unusualplaces.org/wave-rock/

Ever seen a wave that’s 15m high and over 100m long?

It was a long weekend in Western Australia for Anzac Day, so with a few friends I took a road trip to a town called Hyden — and to the iconic Wave Rock.

Wave Rock is about 350km east from Perth, out in WA’s wheatbelt. You can do the drive in about four hours, but if you want to see anything of Wave Rock and the surrounding area, it’s best to take an overnight trip, making some stops on the way.

Getting out of the city always excites me, there’s so many new places to see and the way the empty road stretches out in front of you seems like a red carpet, or an invitation. With WA, the desire to get in your car and just drive and drive and drive is a real possibility — and that’s just going north. Imagine if you pointed the car east and just kept driving.

Our first stop on the journey to Hyden was the town of York, and calls itself the oldest inland town in Western Australia. Whether that is true, or true depending on a certain definition, I’m unclear.

York

York, WA

Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:York_WA_town_hall.jpg

York is a beautiful historic town with some original architecture and heritage buildings dating back to the gold rush.

If you’re ever passing through, it’s a good place to stop or to visit for a few hours. You can have lunch at a local cafe and have a look around the town, it’s one of those places that could use your tourist dollars now there’s little to be made from traditional agriculture.

Corrigin

Statue to acknowledge the world record convoy of 1527 utes with dogs, Corrigin WA

source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Corrigin_dog.jpg

After a short break in York, and a visit to a local bakery, we pushed on: to another notable town, a placed called Corrigin.

As difficult as it may be to believe at first, Corrigin holds  the world record for ‘the most dogs in a ute’.

It may sound incredible, but this WA town took the title back in 2002 with over 1,500 dogs in utes.

I’m presuming that’s separate utes, not one ute piled high with 1,500 dogs. The town even has a statue to commemorate the historic event. It also has a large pet cemetery, but that didn’t seem like such an important thing to visit.

Hyden

Wave Rock, Hyden, WAIf Corrigin seems like a difficult place to beat, even if you don’t see any dogs in utes, then the only thing left to do is keep pushing on to Hyden.

While the town of Hyden might not have historical, heritage buildings, or world records for dogs and utes, it does have a big draw: Wave Rock.

Big is the word for Wave Rock: it’s nearly 15m high and over 100m long. And yes, it kind of looks like a crashing wave, appropriately enough for Western Australia.

Some people think I’m slightly crazy for wanting to drive for nearly 4 hours and stay overnight in a motel in a country town just to see a rock. I think those same people are slightly crazy to prefer to spend that time watching sport on television.

Hippo's Yawn, Hyden, WAWave Rock isn’t the only thing to see in Hyden, either! So don’t think it’s a wasted road trip, and that all there is to do is look at this one rock.

There is also the Hippo’s Yawn: a short walk through the bush from wave rock. Hippo’s Yawn is a rock that’s over 12m tall that kind of, maybe, looks a bit like a hippo’s gaping mouth.

Once inside the mouth of the “hippo” if you’re so inclined you can climb and wriggle through gaps in the rock to get on top of the rocks behind it, for a view of the surrounding area.

Another “must see” place in Hyden is Mulka’s Cave. From the outside, it doesn’t look like much — not after Wave Rock and Hippo’s Yawn. But, much like with people and a Kinder surprise, it’s what’s inside that counts. What some of the legends about a child-eating cannibal don’t tell you is that inside the cave are original hand prints and paintings on the rock. That kind of thing always excites me more than any footy game on television ever could.

You don’t need much more than 24 hours in Hyden — and technically you could do Wave Rock in a day, if you wanted an 8-hour round trip, but it’s worth taking your time, stopping on the way, and getting a room at the Wave Rock Motel.

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An Unlit Side Street in Newtown

Mary's, Newtown

Down an unlit side street in Newtown there is an unmarked door. Unmarked except for the graffiti.

Above the unmarked, gratified door, down the unlit side street, a red light hangs.

You might think at this point in the story you know what is behind the door.

If it was a brothel, someone would have to be doing something very special because people are lining up down the road to get in like it’s a nightclub.

Except it is barely 8pm and this unmarked door down the unlit side street doesn’t have thumping bass coming from behind it. And there’s just one doorman enforcing a 1-in, 1-out policy.

You’ve been told that this unmarked door is Mary’s.

You don’t know if that’s really the name, or if it is just called that by people since it has no real name, but it is on Mary St. Either way, rumour has it some of the best burgers in Sydney are behind this door. So you join the line.

After about 30 minutes of anticipation you are eventually admitted, and it’s only since you’ve been closer that you have been able to hear the rock tunes that remind you of your teens and 20s.

You push through double doors into a crowded bar.

Your next challenge awaits.

If you want food, you need a table. Either you need to join another line, that of people queueing for a table upstairs, or take your chances in the bar. The only hurdle is how to grab a table and also order food when you’re alone. Surely an unattended table is unoccupied?

Leaning with your back against the bar, you keep an eye on the room. Who has drinks. Who has lots of food. Who is clearly waiting for food. Who might be about to get up and who is also watching.

One table of people gets up to leave and before you can even think about staking your claim, they offer the crowded table next to them the opportunity to join the two together, giving them ample space for everyone seated. A fair gesture, even if it means you still can’t order.

Then a table becomes available. And you get it fast. Through skill and a little magic you manage to balance your half-drunk bottle of beer on top of your leather jacket, with both on the table. The statement is clear: this table is taken, observe the drink and the jacket of someone with no friends to dine with but the determination to not just go out, but to get a table.

You keep an eye on both, waiting at the bar, worrying that the jacket could be stolen (especially since it’s a replica of the one worn by Kurt Russell in Death Proof), beer drunk, table taken, and hopes of dinner dashed.

Maybe the people in Sydney are more polite, because both are left untouched.

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The Adventure to Save the Turtle

Nullabor plain

source: http://motherlode.com.au

I got to thinking, after my last post. With the up-front cost of Costa Rica so insurmountable, it struck me that I needn’t travel so far for adventure.

Australia is this incredible, vast and diverse country. I have barely even touched it, let alone scratched the surface of this great southern land.

I am already thousands of miles from where I grew up. Why can’t I find an adventure here?

A while ago I tried pitching the Flat Footed Adventurer as a concept to places like Lonely Planet and in-flight magazines. I would have adventures and I would write about them. It’s a pretty straight-forward concept, and the driving idea behind this blog. To inspire some people towards adventures, and provide entertainment and escapism to those who prefer to just read about it.

Some adventures would be big. Some adventures smaller. There would be spear fishing expeditions, but also adventures of quiet introspection and self discovery in Buddhist monasteries. Adventures to find the coolest small towns, and adventures in the jungles of South America.

For in-flight magazines I was even willing to find adventures in locations they wanted to promote. All I wanted was the adventures, and the opportunity to write about them all.

The fact that I’m writing about it here, and not directing you to websites, books and magazines where I am published, tells you that they didn’t go for it.

But the point is adventures don’t always have to be pushing yourself to the limit of your ability, multi-activity, many thousands of dollars worth of expenses. Some adventures can just be about going somewhere new and doing something out of your comfort zone.

Australia's threatened flatback marine turtle

source: http://scienceillustrated.com.au/

With this in mind, I am focusing my current adventure dream on volunteering with the West Pilbara Turtle Program. The program aims to monitor and track the threatened Flatback marine turtles that are native only to Australia.

This might seem like an abrupt change of direction: where’s the hiking, rafting, cycling, kayaking? And what about South America? It is a change of direction, but I feel that it is doing important work, for something I care about, and it fulfills the wanderlust inside of me.

To get to the beach where the monitoring takes place is something approaching a 16-hour drive from Perth, although the closest airport is only a 2-hour flight. I would first have to attend a training day this year before being able to be a volunteer — so that means there might be two trips. Just getting there would be an adventure in itself.

This is still in the earliest stages of a plan, but even flying there would have costs  dramatically lower than Costa Rica and it would be doing good in the world, something that is important to me: leaving things slightly better than I found them.

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