Ant Mimicking Jumping Spiders

It's true, this may sound like something from the Multiverse of Intrigue, but they are very real!!!! In fact, many species of insects mimic ants for various reasons. Some to avoid being a tasty snack for predators, as ants generally taste pretty nasty and have a vicious bite. Others to fool the ants so that they themselves may prey on the ants and their egg sacs.

I first encountered these space like creatures on a park bench in Brisbane, Australia. At initial glance it appeared to be a large ant..... and then it jumped across the gap between the planks of wood comprising the bench. I had been fooled. This curious little creature was in fact a jumping spider. In the end it was the unusual eye structure, typical to jumping spiders, that gave it away.

Jumping spiders are generally curious, they are not often scared off, and even seem to be "playing" at times. They will face a threat head on and dance around, never breaking eye contact. Perhaps that's why this particular little fellow was so intent to jump on my bag and come near me, despite my continual efforts to place him elsewhere. Not out of fear for myself, but out of concern I may accidentally squish him. There are, apparently, a couple of these ant mimicking spiders in Canada. I intend to find them!

I Gots My Flow Back

After hitting a serious writer's block, I have busted that wall into a million pieces. My novels have been progressing at a snails pace, not because I have no idea what to write about. To the contrary, I have so many ideas. The problem has been my inability to come up with a first chapter that adequately catches the readers attention, introduces Lachlan as the main character, AND satisfies me, the writer. I have successfully completed the first chapter, from here on out everything will flow. What a feeling, what freedom... what a relief! I have found the puzzle piece from which all other pieces will connect. I am happy.

Language Mishaps

So both me and the Australian people speak the same language, right? Yes, that is correct, but it doesn't mean we don't use different words of the same language to describe the same thing. Today's example, tomato sauce. In Australia ketchup, as we call it in North America, is referred to as tomato sauce. Why is this a problem? I will tell you. Anybody who's ever come over to my place knows I cook a mean pizza. I don't settle for store bought frozen pizza, I like to put the ingredients together myself. Such was the case last night. The only problem, I mistook tomato sauce as a suitable base for a pizza, and not a tasty topping for my fries. But don't you fret, dear reader. I am never beaten! By combining the "ketchup" with a spicy red sauce, a little garlic and some chili flakes I created a fantastically tasting sauce. The pizza was not a bust, in fact it tasted grand! This has been a lesson in language, though. We may be speaking the same language, but we're not talking the same thing! PIZZA!!!!!!!!

The Arrival

After a very long break in writing, I've decided it's time to bring back the blog. It has been hard to try and keep it up to date while always on the move, but I have been keeping a written journal in its absence. I'm going to jump ahead of most of the adventure and start right in at Brisbane.

The massive flooding seriously delayed my arrival, only by 2 days, but that's simply because I couldn't sit back and watch the devastation without doing something about it. Under normal circumstances it would have delayed me longer, I'm sure. So I went, with no plan, no idea where to go, and no idea what I would be arriving too.

I got off the Greyhound and went straight to the bottom of the terminal to the local train station. Fortunately the government had made public transportation free for the week to assist with the clean-up of the city. With the aid of two nice attendants, I located a train that would take me within 5 minutes of one of the registration centres. So with all my gear, being my giant pack, I hopped on and headed out. I had no idea what to expect, or what I would be doing. I had no tools to help out with and only hoped that somebody would have an extra broom or shovel to offer me. There were tons of people when I arrived. I would later learn that the expected 6,000 volunteers for that day turned out to be closer to 15,000. In short, more people than the organizers had planned for or could accommodate. What a testament to the spirit of Queenslanders and the city of Brisbane. Despite the mass of crowds, it was relatively quick and easy to register to volunteer. I filled out a form, took it to a nice lady behind a counter, who thanked me over and over for offering my assistance, despite only being a backpacker passing through, and was all ready to go.

I immediately made my way to the bus stands where many people were waiting with brooms, rakes and shovels to ship out. Then there was me with only myself to offer. It was some time waiting for the bus. A coordinator came around to tell us that there were so many volunteers that we may actually be sent away, CRAZY! I made it onto a bus though and was off to some unknown destination. There was a sense of joy once we were on our way. Everybody was excited to do their part. A bag of candy, or lollies as they call them, was passed around to share. Normally I wouldn't have one, but this was different, it was a bond that linked everybody on that bus. So, you're damn right I had one, and then two more as the bag made three rounds of the packed bus before being finished. The mood was very quickly dashed though, as we left the highway and were soon entering the South Bank and West End areas of the city. The bus became silent. It was if we were being delivered into a war zone, only moments from being released onto the beach into a spray of machine gun fire. The streets were brown with mud, garbage was strewn about the streets, soldiers marching the streets with their weapons and muddied clothes. Yes, the mood had changed. We were greeted by our commanding officer, the regional councillor, who with very little direction, told us to simply clean up the public spaces. There was a park nearby, completely covered with muck, what a wreck. I set my bag down and began my search for a tool. It only took 5 minutes, but I found a man willing to relinquish his broom, while he worked elsewhere with his shovel. I began to clean a stretch of walkway. Eventually I teamed up with a mother and her two daughters. Together we managed to clear a considerable portion of the walkway. What pride I felt in the accomplishment. I continued to clean various sections of the park until, after some hours, the soldier returned for his broom. Content with my days work I made my way back to the bus. I had some food, being distributed for free at a sausage sizzle and even a free BEER!!!! That's right, a very generous lady was kind enough to offer us all cold beers. What an end to the day. What a feeling to help such a ruined community, what a memorable moment in my journey.

The next day I was reunited with Nuangi. Together with her, and her local family we journeyed to a Buddhist temple in Goodna, where we aided in the packing up of food and then distributed it throughout the community. The idea was to offer it to the affected locals, but quickly found it was more ideal to simply offer it to the volunteers, as most of them were in fact locals. People were happy to receive the curried rice dishes, especially, I'm sure, since all that was being offered otherwise were sausages. It was another fabulous day with a sense of accomplishment. Goodna was hit particularly hard, in many places completely submerging homes and businesses. After putting in two solid days, I decided it was time to see the city in another light and take advantage of the free transportation being offered. More to come on that.

Second Day In Launceston

(Originally Dated Dec 22, 2010)

EVEN BETTER than the first. That being said, let me talk about 8 person dorm hostels. It's tough sharing quarters with 8 other people. Especially when the one in the bunk below you snores and farts all night. The guy across from you goes to bed really late, has a super bright flashlight and decides to go through all his things rearranging what sounded to be bags full of plastic bags. You know that crinkly sound that plastic bags make?! Even worse when the same guy decides to get up super early and do the same thing. What really made it worth it though, was listening to the young Canadian lad I met, who had been drinking all day and night with an Aussie native, politely turn her down as she pleaded with him for a good 10 mins to go to bed with her. Truly a memorable night!

The night aside, and a beautiful day ahead, I made my way back to Cataract Gorge. Finding the previous days trail of solitude a little more crowded I headed to a point in the trail I remembered from the previous day where an unmarked path branched off. It headed even further into the national park and obviously not part of the usual tourist hike. After disappearing from view of the main trail I was quickly brought to a dead end, but don't fret my adventure hungry friends. This end was truly a beginning.

I was lead into a large clearing marked with large tufts of tall grass. I crouched and crept slowly into the clearing, minding my steps and keeping close to the grass patches. If my instincts were right...... yes, they were! Wallaby crap! Quite a bit of it too. I paused and raised my head slightly above the grass line and scanned the field.

I break for a moment to describe the task which I set before myself. Wallabies are very small. Nothing close to what you would expect when you think of their cousins, the kangaroo. Their light brown fur and darker faces blend nearly perfectly with the Tasmanian terrain and play of light and shadow amongst the plants and grasses. Extended periods of time i the Canadian wilderness had prepared me for this though.

There it was! 100 meters away I spotted my Camera's prey. A slightly out of place figure that was soon to make my day. Not wishing to scare the wallaby off I continued to stay low and quiet amongst the grass. Also mindful that there could be more hidden en route to my current target. I zig zagged slowly through the grass, stopping to take the occasional photo on my approach. Half way there a small twig snapped beneath my foot. I froze, did he hear it?! I peered above the grass just enough to see my friend blissfully unaware of my presence. Then, to my left, a rustle in the grass just 5 feet away. The grass was thicker here, and harder to see what was right in front of me, let along to move without being heard. I lightly rustled back. Did it work? Yes, I caught his attention. A small head stuck up to have a look. We stared at each other for a moment, in silence. In my head I knew this was not my photo-op. The grass was too thick and the wallaby too well camouflaged. I moved to continue on, the wallaby instantly bounded off in the opposite direction. The pounding of the ground audible each time he hit. Excited now, I continued on with more resolve. Slowly I crept until my path became blocked by a small swampy area. It stretched around me in all directions. I paused to evaluate my situation. I could make it across, but risked exposing my position. So I waited. It wasn't long before I had my opportunity. The wallaby fully turned his back to me. I wasted no time, I leapt across the swamp, fully visible. I landed softly without a sound, back on solid ground. I ducked behind the first grass patch. I was now mere steps from where I wanted to be. The problem now, was the wallaby had his back completely to me, not the best photo. Finally the wallaby turned, I unloaded shot after shot until he eventually took notice and leapt into the forest. Mission accomplished.

This chance encounter brought with it another opportunity. I had been lead straight to a game trail. I followed it and spent the next couple hours exploring the peaceful Tasmanian wilderness. I eventually made it back to town, with just enough time to eat, organise my things and catch my bus for Bicheno.

Mantracker Always Gets His Wallaby

(Originally dated Dec 21, 2010)

I am semi-officialy giving up my Mantracker status. Upon returning to the Americas I will re-adopt it. Just seems more appropriate in a land of larger wildlife like moose and bears. Until then, I am TASMAN!

I arrived in Launceston, Tasmania today. Flying over the island I saw an expanse of untouched wilderness. It was remarkable. Kilometres of untouched beach and forest spread out before me. Launceston has not disappointed me either. After getting off the plane I found the airport shuttle. Luckily it does drop-offs exactly where you want. Even more fortunate was the fact that there were a lot of locals getting dropped off before me. Why is this a good thing, you ask? Because I basically got a free tour of the town.

At the hostel I was told check in would not be until 2pm. Seeing as it was only about 10am I had some time to kill. I roamed the town exploring, but mostly in search of food. Afer a very thorough maunder through town I headed for Cataract Gorge National Park. This was truly a magical hike through the Tasmanian wilderness. A large portion of the trail did have a lot of foot traffic, but it didn't take me long to find the trail less travelled. At the end of the "family/tourist" trail, where most people looped back around to the beginning, there was a sign pointing further on. It was a long hike which most likely deterred most from continuing on... just what I wanted. For the 2 hours I hiked the lonely trail I encountered only 5 other people. It was sheer tranquility and peace. It was just me, the wilderness and my sporty camera. I put racing stripes on it to make it look more cool and aerodynamic. Not a true story. Along the way I saw a lot of skinks, one baby bearded dragon, a wallaby and all sorts of colourful birds. One of the most interesting things was coming across a large section of the woods teeming with cicadas. The noise was so loud that I of course left the trail to trek off into the woods and see what all the fuss was about. The trees were covered by thousands of large cicadas, 2-3 times the size of the ones at home in Canada. I've never seen anything like it. As I journeyed on I came to an old abandoned power station and a suspension bridge spanning the gorge to turn me back on my way to town. The return leg had nothing special to mention, but was equally as visually appealing. Overall, the perfect way to spend the afternoon. I may go back tomorrow, weather permitting.

You should have seen the other guy...

Top 10 Reasons to Not Start Drinking at 4pm (originally dated Dec 19, 2010)

1. That is a damn clean pane of glass. While many people do this completely sober, I managed to pull it off whilst being slightly intoxicated... slightly. That's right, at full speed I walked straight into a clear glass door. I have the bruise on my nose to prove it!

2. Was that my floor, or my super tight jeans. One of the many other hazards of a rough night is smashing your phone. To be fair, the phone was already pretty banged up. It just needed that final blow. What I'm not sure of is if that final blow was from falling flat on my ass or if my tight jeans were really tight enough to squeeze that final breath of life out of the phone as I busted a move out on the dance floor.

3. At least it was my bed and it was empty. Though I am aware of my amazing sense of direction, it always astonishes me when I am able to get home with no help from anybody else.... that's right, no help.... except for Gavin who made sure I got on the right train..... but no help from anybody else!

4. My head hurts. In most cases I would say headaches are due to excessive drinking. In this case I must refer back to reason #1. That damn clear glass door. Who cleans windows that well anyway... jeez!

5. Whoever remembers these things anyway. Reason 5 refers to the fact that I actually don't have reasons 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. I'm sure they exist, I just don't recollect what they may be.

6. Um

7. Hmm

8. What?

9. Fizzbots

10. .....