The semigrey nomad.: The Heysen Trail 2

Crickey!!!!

For someone that eats a lot of vegetables the sudden impact of a huge plate of dumplings is not to be underestimated. Feeling so full I started to think that I had become a dumpling. With something JFK could have said ringing through my head – “Ich bin ein dumfling” – I rolled back from Adelaide’s Chinatown to the cheapest accommodation I could find; the youth hostel's four bed dorm where an interesting night lay ahead of me.

China Town, home of the dumplings

My dormitory soon turned into a three stooges show where the first stooge, who I dubbed Mr. Snoremore, was busy running his chainsaw through a variety of logs. The snoring pitch varied from an alarming high-frenzied, wood-grinding to a low, deep, shattering rattle, shaking the room as though Vesuvius had just erupted. The exhale produced a high-pitched siren that would have had our boys in Kokoda ducking for cover, yelling “incoming”. This man was definitely single room material only; in fact he could be a single all of his life without knowing why, deserted Island kind of bloke. At first, I used my pillow to block out Mr. Snoremores duel with the sound barrier but soon I wanted to use it for more sinister purposes. I was only stopped at the prospect of having to spend the next 25 years in another more sinister dorm.

The second stooge, Sir Stinkalot, came in at eleven and chose the bunk below mine. As soon as the man laid down the pungent, sour fumes of cigarette smoke ,with a stale bouquet of pub trough drifted upwards. Holding my breath wasn’t going to help as I slowly turned blue under my pillow.

Stooge number three, Mystery Stooge, I suspect was on the red eye flight. His hour of arrival was unknown but it was deep, deep in the night. Attempts to be as quiet as possible failed epically with the heavy door slamming with gusto, waking up even the best sleepers seven dorm doors down.

These wonderful experiences in dormitories take me back to Spain and the Camino de Santiago where we, a group of ten hikers, were forcibly honoured to observe a Spanish couple having it on, on the top bunk. How would it be to have the sexual juices flowing so badly that you would ignore twenty eyes and ears? I can assure you that she was having the time of her life with the added bonus that we all learned some very rudimental Spanish.

The seedy side of Adelaide

Finally, there was me. Old Fart Stooge with an upset gut full of dumpflings. Believe me, I desperately tried to keep the incessant waft from underneath my blanket to a minimum, so much so I could have snapped one of the logs that were being cut below. Every time I rolled around in bloated discomfort the bed squealed in protest. I could hear and smell Sir Stinkalot's smoky sigh of annoyance coming from below.

Adelaide Awakes!

Among the cacophony of sounds and smells in our tiny room I was ready to fly away into another world. I grabbed my camera out of my locker, accidently slammed the door on my way out, and found Adelaide shrouded in mist at 4.30 in the morning. I walked about 12km's through cotton wool filled streets - I just couldn’t stop - past Anzac memorials and universities – dodged street sweepers and garbo trucks – photographed the seedy pokie clubs and massage parlours – experienced the magical, dark River Torrens - wondered about my own safety - took snaps of the misty coloured lights – strolled past several homeless guys sleeping in window arches – admired the sculptures in parks and streets – saw a group of joggers disappear into the mist.

Joggers in the mist

I escaped into the urban beauty of Adelaide.

Grey Bits

Due to me trying to keep things as cheap as possible during this trip, I bravely went back for one more night with my fellow Stooges.

How bad was his night?

If you are flying to the start of a hiking trail remember that you cannot take any gas bottles with you on the plane, hence, the extra day I needed in Adelaide. More to follow about my day in Adelaide in the next blog.

Here are some more photos I took that morning, plus more on my website https://www.facebook.com/storiesfrommars/?ref=bookmarks