Dipping into the West Macs

All around me, rocky orange cliffs towered toward the cyan-blue sky. Below me, fish were swimming in a higher-than-usual river. I couldn’t believe this was the middle of Australia. With a nickname like the Red Centre, I’d never imagined finding this much green in the desert. But here I was, in the heat of February’s summer sun, soaking in a lush paradise.

It was our last of four days in Alice Springs, and it was to be a busy one. The DoubleTree by Hilton had booked me a day trip into the West MacDonnell Ranges, followed immediately by a sunset camel ride with Pyndan Camel Tracks, which the rain had canceled days before. Waiting in the lobby at 7am with a friendly smile was Ben, our guide from Alice Wanderer (we’d later find out that this day was his first-ever solo guide). After our previous day’s time-regimented tour of Uluru, his casual style was welcome. At his emphatic urging, we ran back to the room to grab bathing suits and towels, not quite sure why we’d need them in the desert.

Alice Wanderer

Three days earlier, while looking down from the plane at the “West Macs,” the ancient mountains that extend out from the city’s east and west sides, they looked like brown carpet wrinkles. Our initial impressions: not great. But on the ground and up close, they easily take on a majestic tone. And lucky for us, in the few short days since we had landed, the oft-dry Alice had received a whopping 40mm of rainfall.

Ben pulled the bus into a forested parking lot and the eight of us piled out and began hiking through green-ferned canyons and spring-fed creeks, craning our necks to look for rock wallabies. Fifteen minutes in, we stood inside Standley Chasm, a skyscraper-tall quartzite gap with a small creek at one end. The sunlight illuminated the walls like glowing terra cotta. I spotted a few frogs perched on tiny ledges above the water, reminders of this land’s ancient rainforest.

Frog in the West Macs

After a short bus ride, we arrived at Ellery Creek Big Hole, and finally changed into our “swimmers” before walking off down a path. The enormous outdoor pool was a genuine oasis, framed with cliffs on either side. “This isn’t even my favorite spot," Ben confessed plainly. We swam and waded lazily in the high water, wondering how it could get any better than this.

Ellery Creek Big Hole

To get to nearby Glen Helen Gorge, we’d have to cross the Finke River. Normally, the slow trickle of the world's oldest river wouldn't pose any problems, but that day's calf-deep waters and wobbly rocks sought to test our determination. Once across, we laid out our towels and jumped in while black swans eyed us from a safe distance.

Crossing the Finke River

The local Arrernte people call these rippling ranges Yipirinya, for their resemblance to caterpillars caravanning in long, wavy lines. It’s easy to see why all of these cliffs, gorges, gaps and chasms have been so inviting for thousands of years. The ochre pits were plentiful sources for pigment. Many natural rocky alcoves became sacred gathering places. And the waterholes continue to be perfect for playtime.

This is where Australia's green and yellow colors come from

By the time we arrived at Ormiston Gorge, our final swimming hole of the day (and our guide’s favorite), our excitement had still not faded. Pointing with his outstretched finger, Ben told us that down the river and around the bend was a magnificent view of the whole canyon. Being the only “adventurous types” in the group, we accepted the challenge and swam through the deep water. We had the entire sundrenched view to ourselves. We turned back reluctantly, and (per usual) we were the last ones back on the bus.

Classic Australia Road Sign Kangaroo Crossing

In the end, we made it to our camel ride just in time. Though camels aren’t native to Australia, they’re perfectly suited to the dry environment and have become a bit of a nuisance. In the 1920s, workers released thousands of them after the completion of the railroad, and today there are an estimated one million roaming Central Australia. After mounting the enormous animal and marching west against the darkening sky, the low mountains fading into dusk, I listened to the breeze rattling in the dry bushes. The greens and reds and blues slowly blended into night, and I soaked in the cool desert air.

Pyndan Camel Tracks

Don't miss our video of Alice Springs to see the West Macs in action!

Disclosure: My DTour of a Lifetime around Australia is sponsored by DoubleTree by Hilton.

A Day in Australia's Sacred Center

I didn’t need to take off my shoes to enter these temples, though I did cover my head with a scarf to avoid the unforgiving summertime sun. “We’re going to power through the first kilometer,” warned our guide, brushing his horseshoe mustache before adding, “See you in the shade.” Ten minutes later, our group congregated at a platform overlooking a curved opening not unlike a cathedral’s apse, the walls painted with a waterfall that quietly dripped into the pool at its base. We were in the shadow of one of nature’s most grandiose creations.

The famous red monolith in the middle of Australia, known as Uluru, Ayers Rock, or simply “The Rock,” is the kind of ethereal place that people travel the world over to see. A stunning beauty, Uluru is a photographer’s dream, slicing unabashedly out of the otherwise flat desert landscape. It has become a symbol of the Australian Outback, representative of the land of dingoes (some of which eat babies), kangaroos, and ultra-venomous snakes. In short, we couldn’t miss this place.

Five hours seemed a meager pilgrimage, considering the trip from Alice Springs to the remote Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park took 3 days before the highways were built. We set out with Emu Run Tours on a bus with about 30 other eager tourists and two tireless guides, Tick and Mark.

“Over to your right, we’re coming up on a rare sight,” Tick remarked about 3 hours into the drive. The entire bus perked up, prepared for a glimpse. Tick and Mark had spent most of the journey teaching us about this vast territory and its humbling history. “If you look carefully, you’ll see an Australian Rubber Tree, with big black fruit hanging from its branches, distinguishable because it grows without foliage.” We rounded the bend and just then Tick burst into laughter. Rubber tires were strewn about a lone skeleton of a tree near the road. “Gotcha,” he said triumphantly. Cheeky Australians.

The park’s namesake behemoths, Uluru and Kata Tjuta, can be seen for miles in any direction, so it’s no wonder they became important meeting places for the Anangu, the group of aboriginal tribes who’ve lived here for over 30,000 years. Remarkably, the rocks also form the backbones of Anangu Creation Stories: in the absence of a written history, the natives use Uluru and Kata Tjuta as their physical records. Whereas organized religions have holy texts, the Anangu have these rocks. With their decipherable contours, the rocks are used as cues for recounting ancient stories that teach morals, social norms, cultural history, and even survival skills. Considering that the rocks are timeless, more permanent than any written words or man-made reminders of ancient stories, it’s a pretty ingenious system.

Staring at the simple shape of Uluru from afar, you’d never guess that this chunk of rock continues underground for kilometers. In fact, what we can see above ground is really just the tip of the iceberg. If you were to follow its underground geologic path twenty-five kilometers to the west, you’d arrive at Uluru’s lesser-known but just-as-sacred cousin, Kata Tjuta. To this day, the Anangu still use Kata Tjuta for their age-old rituals and ceremonies, during which times it is closed off to the public. A conglomerate sedimentary formation of 36 domes, its name means “many heads,” and it was borne out of the same uplifting process as Uluru some 500 million years ago. Though it’s not as iconic from a distance, it’s breathtakingly beautiful up close.

Red walls rose up on either side of me, plunging into the electric blue of the sky. The wind blew at my back, gently coaxing me deeper into Kata Tjuta’s Walpa Gorge. To my left, I could hear a stream that paralleled the path, hidden from view by bright green trees, bushes, and grasses, all guzzling from the stream’s lifeline of water. We took our time, stopping every few moments to snap photos, stare, and listen. Time slipped further away when we came upon a series of small ponds with tadpoles. They darted around just under the surface, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were in a desert.

A faint horn sounded, jolting us out of our inquisitive daze. Was that our bus, sounding the final notice before pulling away? Sprinting the whole rest of the way back, we jumped on with smiles of exasperated relief plastered onto our faces, gasping for air. We weren’t even late; apparently the bus horn is a prank the guides pull on the last to board the bus. “Told you they’d be running!” Tick hooted as we took our seats.

Though some affectionately refer to it as such, Uluru is no ordinary rock. Even just saying the word feels like the start of a sacred chant: OOH-loo-roo. Its name has no translation, adding to its mystical allure, and its immense cultural significance really sets it apart from the average mountain. In the days leading up to my Uluru trip, I was sure that I’d want to climb the controversial path that leads to its summit. As a climber, I love to interact with rocks, experiencing them at close range, accepting their challenges. But after all that I’d learned about this sacred place, my mind had changed. The fact that these formations continue to play critical roles in the preservation of the world’s oldest surviving culture warrants, I think, some heavy respect.

Fortunately, the decision was made for us that day, with the climb to the top closed off due to the sweltering February heat. Instead, we followed our guides around parts of Uluru’s base, peering at 17,000-year-old murals, gazing up at temporary waterfalls from the previous day’s rains, and entering alcoves so sacred that, out of respect, photography was prohibited. In the end, it didn’t feel like we’d missed out on anything.

With the sun loosening its grip on the day, temperatures dropped to a much more palatable 90 degrees for our final stop. Even amid the hordes of camera-wielding tourists that were arriving by the busload, it was a serene scene. We sipped on cool champagne and nibbled our picnic dinners as the sun began its spectacular light show. Uluru reflected every color on the spectrum between red and purple. As the sun lowered, features that resembled buttresses cast shadows in stripes across its length until eventually the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving in its wake fluorescent clouds that hovered to the west over the silhouette of Kata Tjuta.

As I gazed out at the impressive figures before they disappeared into the dark, I slipped off my sandals and dug my feet into the warm red sand for one last chance to get closer to this place that is the heart of a continent, the soul of a civilization.

Within Alice Springs, A Desert Wonderland

I’m convinced Alice Springs is Australia's best kept secret. It’s come a long way from its humble origins as a desert telegraph outpost, without losing touch with its rich native roots. A surprisingly busy hub smack dab in the middle of the country, Alice has made a reputation as being the perfect jumping-off point for exploring the outback. But you don’t need to venture far; there's plenty to do right in town.

The oft-dry Todd River that runs through Alice Springs

We were welcomed with warm greetings (and cookies) at the DoubleTree Alice Springs, which is quite the oasis with its crimson mountain views, a heated outdoor pool, and a resident peacock named Andrew. No wonder it's consistently rated the best accommodation around.

To kick off our introduction to the Red Centre, we paid a visit to Desert Park, which partners with local aborigines to educate visitors about the desert environment and its inhabitants, including the native peoples who lived alongside the unique flora and fauna of Central Australia. Our tour also included a trip to the nocturnal house, home to rare creatures like bilbies and quolls, and a bird show, which afforded us some close encounters with a black kite, bush stone-curlew, and tawny frogmouth, among other beautiful birds.

Doug, our Arrerntye tour guide, walked us through the winding park while teaching us about his ancestors’ culture. His people have lived for millennia in these harsh conditions, moving with the seasons and using smoke farming to encourage plant regeneration. He also shared creation stories (commonly referred to as “dreamtime,” which isn’t a very tactful way to describe their religious beliefs) about how the local mountains came to be, and showed us the complex system of “skin” groups, or tribes, that dictated compatibility for courtship. By the time our tour had finished, we were left feeling a deep sense of respect for this rich culture, the oldest (surviving) in the world.

desert-park-doug-aborigine

After grabbing lunch and waiting out the rain at the Watertank Cafe, a hip eatery inside an old plant nursery, we walked to the Alice Springs Reptile Centre. Turns out, Central Australia has more reptiles per square kilometer than anywhere else on earth, which is part of the reason why we decided to pop in for a quick look. But the Centre quickly became one of our favorite visits of the whole trip; all it took was meeting their friendly goanna (a huge lizard) named Ruby, who spends her days wandering around the building and enjoys a good back rub. We loved her, and she features prominently in our video of Alice Springs.

The Reptile Centre is home to the largest collection of reptiles in the Northern Territory, including dozens of "standards" like lizards, turtles, and snakes. They also have a thorny devil, one of the most bizarre-yet-adorable creatures I’ve ever seen, thick-tailed geckos, and legless lizards. You read that correctly: not snakes, mind you, but lizards. With no legs. Our minds = blown. (The difference: lizards have ear holes; snakes do not.)

reptile-centre-small-snake

As if we hadn’t already had enough fun, our visit coincided with one of the centre’s reptile shows, offered three times daily. We got to meet and hold Suzie Q, the 3-year-old olive python. She wasn’t quite as cute as a koala, but she was definitely more cuddly. She clung her smooth body around our torsos and gently repositioned herself to get comfortable. I think in that moment, our lifelong fears of snakes slipped away. Not really but wouldn’t that have been cool?

Suzie Q, the gentle olive python

We also met a blue-tongued skink, which had a thick body and tiny legs. I tried to turn on the charm, but she refused to kiss my cheek. The best encounter was our last, with Beardy, as I liked to call the adorable bearded dragon. The small lizard was spiky yet soft, and happily perched itself on our hands. Kristen and I wanted to take him home.

To get ourselves even more acquainted with Australia’s native animals, we headed to a classic outback saloon called The Overlanders Steakhouse. It is a must for adventurous eaters looking to taste Australian classics like kangaroo, emu, crocodile and camel (OK, that last one isn't native but there are a million of them living there). Not only is the restaurant's food delicious, the rustic decor proudly displays cattle driving relics that reminded us of Hugh Jackman's "Drover" from the movie Australia. Oh, and you get a flag of your country placed on your table so that everybody knows everybody else’s origin (we were happy to be the only Americans). To the happy Norwegian lady who made the rounds that night: we salute you.

Kangaroo

With our thoroughly enjoyable and informative day drawing to a close, we realized that unlike other places we visited in Australia, Alice Springs seems to have maintained a deeper connection with its native heritage. It’s a place that has embraced its history and nature, rather than erase it with high-rise buildings. Most of the people we met, locals and tourists alike, seem to have a respectful grasp of the native significance of the surrounding mountains, even knowing some native words for the flora, fauna, and natural landmarks.

Goanna looking like aboriginal artwork

A visit to Alice almost certainly means an education in native culture and history, which might be why it is such an enchanting place. We only experienced a fraction of what Alice has to offer, but it felt more meaningful than anywhere else in the country. Even though I’m keen on spreading the word, I could see why some might want to keep it a secret.

If you go:

The DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel Alice Springs has a super friendly and helpful staff, plus one of the town's best restaurants, Hanuman, in the lobby. Be sure to say hello to Andrew the Peacock, but don't let him get too close to your cookies!

Alice Springs Desert Park is open from 7:30am to 6pm daily, with an entry fee of $25 per adult. Budget at least a couple of hours to explore the grounds and the nocturnal house. Don't miss the Wild Bird Show, held at 10am and 3:30pm at the nature theater.

Alice Springs Reptile Centre is open from 9:30am to 5pm daily, with an entry fee of $16 per adult. Budget at least an hour and a half. Don't miss the reptile show, at 11am, 1pm, and 3:30pm, for an opportunity see some of these amazing creatures up close. Who knows? You might not be that afraid of snakes after all.

The Watertank Cafe is a great place to grab lunch and recharge, with delicious toasted wraps, free wifi, and playful decor (it used to be a plant nursery, so there's plenty of greenery). Even though it's a bit off the beaten path, it's well worth the trip. Open from 9am to 3pm (2:30pm on Sundays).

The Overlanders Steakhouse is a lively spot to grab a drink and sample some classic outback fare. Definitely get the sampler. If you're lucky, you might even catch a staff wobbleboard show. Or just ask for a demonstration.

Disclosure: I'm traveling Australia for my DTour of a Lifetime sponsored by DoubleTree by Hilton.

Floating in a Glass-Bottomed Gondola over the Wet Tropics

Raindrops fell as we floated up above the canopy in a glass box and disappeared into a cloud. For a minute we couldn’t see anything except off-white and a few stolen glimpses of wet, green leaves. But the rain wasn't a surprise; we were in a rainforest after all.

We were lucky to have three nights in the northeastern city of Cairns (pronounced “cans”), which would be just enough time to explore the two UNESCO World Heritage sites that sandwich the city: off the coast, the Great Barrier Reef; on the land, the Wet Tropics.

Since we were limited to a one-day rainforest trip, we took to the skies. Just outside of town, Skyrail runs gondolas above the treetops. The “diamond” gondola was enticing, as is anything with a glass bottom, so we paid a tad extra for it and hopped aboard. The floor-window didn’t necessarily offer much better of a view, but it was neat to be standing on nothing, watching lush greenery flow under my feet.

Down in the dense tropical forest is one of the most ancient ecosystems on the planet. If you’ve seen FernGully (which takes place in Australia), you get the idea. Virtually untouched by humans, it represents a massive living record of the ancient world, the closest modern-day counterpart to the extremely old Gondwanan continent. This is where Australia’s marsupials came about and primitive flora can still be found. The region’s weirdest fauna award goes to the flightless cassowary, the second heaviest bird on earth that sports a blue face, red wattles and a huge horn-like spike on top of its head.

Though we didn’t get to see any super-amazing wildlife from our viewing post, the skies did clear to reveal a jaw-dropping view. We saw steamy tree-covered mountains, families of pure-white cockatoos and ribbony waterfalls.

There are multiple stations throughout the journey to hop off and have a look around - umbrellas provided. The wide rope-lined boardwalks (there to preserve the environment) meander through the trees, filling people's ears with sounds of rainfall and dozens of bird calls.

At the end of the line, the town of Kuranda offers more sights and attractions to fill a day. Unfortunately, we had a late start that morning and got delayed by a passing storm at one of the mid-points, so we just stayed on the gondola to head back down the mountain. Though this coastal rainforest takes up only 0.2% of Australia, it contains the most diverse selection of plants and animals in the country. It’s a spectacular sight to witness first-hand, as long as you can see it through the clouds.

Disclosure: I am traveling around Australia on a DTour for DoubleTree by Hilton.

Video: Scenic Walk to Manly

One of Sydney's most outdoorsy activities is the Scenic Walk to Manly, which is indeed scenic. So much so that we stopped every five minutes and the four-hour walk took us much longer than that. After getting fresh barramundi fish and chips overlooking the sea in Manly, we hopped aboard the ferry back to Sydney for another scenic view: the beautiful harbour.

Video: A Thousand Bats Fly Over the City

Apparently Cairns, a tropical Australian town sitting between two World Heritage sites, was built around a huge colony of fruit bats that refused to leave. That’s fine by us, because we love just about all animals. And as weird as it may be that there are mammals that can fly (basically rats with wings), we think they’re pretty cute. These particular guys are as large as cats and mostly live in a cluster of big trees right in the middle of the city. Every night around sunset, they slowly wake up and stretch, and then take flight in search of fruit to munch on. We were lucky enough to have an excellent view of the mass ascension from the 9th floor of the Hilton Hotel. And we were so captivated, we went back each night of our stay to witness the amazing event.

Finding Nemo for Real: Scuba Diving at the Great Barrier Reef

Apparently, you don’t need to be certified to scuba dive in Australia. After a quick lesson aboard the “Calypso” and a standard sign-my-life-away waiver, I donned a full-body stinger suit and scuba gear for the first time. Then, beside the boat, I had a quick three-part safety test underwater with Jenny, our guide for the day. Though I didn’t ace the quiz, I passed. Down we went, three of us following her slowly into the depths along a thick, moored rope.

We couldn’t not try scuba; we were at the Great Barrier Reef, the world’s largest single structure made of living organisms. Totally bucket-list material. It’s a good thing we got the chance, too, because the fragile system is not going to be around forever. Some experts give it only another 50 years or so, which is why scientists are racing to photo-document its current extent. Though it’s shrinking every year, it’s still so big that it can be seen from space, and we were lucky enough to get a closer look.

About 7 meters down on a small patch of sand, Jenny motioned for us beginners to kneel down in a circle. She then picked up a sea cucumber and handed it to me. It was slimy and weird-looking, so after a quick inspection, I passed it down the line. A few minutes later, she led us to a giant clam about the size of checked luggage with a wavy gaping mouth, and motioned for us to each touch it gently. It flinched shut with a slight creaking sound when my finger grazed its lips.

The dive lasted only about 30 minutes, but it was so amazing, we couldn’t turn down another opportunity and decided to spring for a second dive at the next site ($50 each extra). That time, I was allowed to bring my GoPro camera. I reached a depth of 10.1 meters and saw more amazingness, like a clownfish (Nemo!), a sea turtle (Crush!), and a lot more otherworldly corals. Check it out:

On the ride back to shore, Kristen and I were a bit delirious with the things we’d witnessed deep in the Coral Sea. Full scuba certification might be in our future. And just maybe another visit to the reef.

Disclosure: My trip to Australia as a DTourist is sponsored by DoubleTree by Hilton.

A pair of amateurs in stormy Surfers Paradise

By the time we were sipping our soul-warming coffees in the glitzy downtown city of Surfers Paradise, the storm had passed and the skies had resumed their brilliant blue standard. The main sunny beach, extending as far as the eye could see in either direction, was still closed to swimmers, though, because of strong currents. Cyclone Dylan was brewing offshore.

ESPL Brewers in Surfers Paradise

Earlier that day and further up the coast, a limo dropped us off for our surfing lesson, part of my DoubleTree-sponsored DTour of a Lifetime. Craig from Get Wet Surf School got busy teaching us to pop up on our boards, which was easy enough on the steady sand. After walking us through the basics, he led us into the rumbly waters, determined to help us catch some gnarly waves on the Gold Coast.

Our intrepid surf instructor, Craig

With its famously perfect waves, it’s no wonder this laid-back city has become a popular destination, and not just for surfing. A surprisingly built-up place, Surfers Paradise has plenty of cafes, shops and (so we hear) nightlife. That day, however, the easy-going vibes around town stopped at the water’s edge.

Even just finding the right wave was a challenge, but once I did, that’s when the fun began. The brief, rewarding lift back to the beach felt so liberating. No fighting waves, just sit back and enjoy the ride. The two-hour lesson guaranteed that we would stand before our time was up. Thankfully, there was no need to recollect our money. But next time, we’ll keep a better eye on the weather.

Now try not to laugh too hard at our lack of skill...

Disclosure: I'm traveling in Australia as a DTourist for DoubleTree by Hilton.

Up Close & Personal with Australian Animals

Imagine a place where you can hold a koala like a baby, walk right up to lounging kangaroos and curious emus, and feed wild lorikeets. Add in a dozen or so more quintessential Australian icons and you’ve got the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, the best hands-on zoo experience we’ve ever had.

Once inside, we were on a mission to accomplish our main goal: cuddling a koala. Mine was adorably named Bagel, and he was surprisingly heavy for his compact size, probably around 15 pounds. His coat was hardy, feeling more like felt then velvet. His long dark claws, normally used for grabbing branches, pressed gently against my chest. I wish I could have held him forever. Kristen’s koala was named Byron, and she also immediately fell in love. I think we had found our new favorite place in Australia.

The sanctuary itself, dating back to 1929, is the oldest and largest of its kind, and lies in a quiet suburb just outside Brisbane. Popular among tourists, it also seems very pampering to the resident marsupials: the koalas need no cages, because they don’t want to leave. We were astonished to hear that koalas spend 18-19 hours of their day sleeping, and the rest of the time slowly chomping away at fresh eucalyptus leaves. And sometimes (for no more than 30 minutes a day), they pose for photos with eager animal-lovers just like us.

After holding the koalas and picking up dorky photo prints to prove it, we were a little giddy to say the least. We meandered through the rest of the park, spying exotic birds, bizarre reptiles, amphibians, lazy dingoes, a giant cassowary, and a wombat.

We were thoroughly entertained by all of the sights until we wandered into the dark building housing one of the most amazing animals we’ve ever seen: a platypus. We had the room to ourselves, and the small reptile/mammal - a monotreme, we’re told - unknowingly put on a show for us. With his beaver-like tail and duck-like bill, he buzzed around in his tank, hunting excitedly for a little prawn, which he eventually snagged. Unfortunately, none of our photos turned out, but we did capture his cuteness on video:

Leaving the sanctuary, we again realized that Australia, having been separated from the other continents for eons, has some of the most unique and amazing wildlife. Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary just might be the best way to explore it close up.

Disclosure: I'm traveling in Australia for my DTour sponsored by DoubleTree by Hilton, however, what I do and write about is still entirely up to me.

Lingering in the Blue Mountains

Time slipped away from us while we sipped our cold beers, the sun shining brightly over a blue-green landscape through the pub’s windows. It was a serene scene until our train, the 6:30 back to Sydney, suddenly pulled into view, catapulting us from our relaxing bar seats and into an immediate sprint. The bartender’s last words: “I can tell you right now, you’re not going to make it.”

We’d spent the day exploring the Blue Mountains, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that’s a quick 2-hour train ride west of Sydney (‘the big smoke” as the mountain locals say). It’s a lush tropical forest carpeted with eucalyptus trees that fill the air with tiny oil droplets, scattering light into a predominantly blue hue.

The region’s beauty was striking. Steep staircases led us to the base of skyscraper-high waterfalls. Fern-laden winding walks ended in super-scenic overlooks, showcasing the famed Three Sisters rock formations and Mount Solitary. Brilliant reds from tropical birds (crimson rosellas and red-tailed black cockatoos) stopped us in our tracks while we oohed and ahhed their every move. It’s the perfect escape from the city bustle, with so many chances to pause and soak it all in.

In the end, the bartender was right. But missing our train didn’t sour our mood. We laughed as we walked out of breath back to the pub, past locals literally applauding our efforts. Our spirits lifted as we came back to our spot to find my half-finished beer still on the table. We ordered a second round and settled in to watch the setting sun and wait for the 7:30 train. And you know what? It wasn’t a bad place to have to spend another hour.

Disclosure: I'm traveling awesome Australia for my DTour of a Lifetime sponsored by DoubleTree by Hilton.