I awoke on the morning of February 19th in Bateman's Bay on the southern shore of New South Wales.  I had arrived after dark the night before and had trouble finding lodging, so my sleep was abbreviated but well-earned.

After a shower, I was on my way south along the ocean shore.

Although Bateman's Bay had been my intended overnight stop, I didn't yet realize that I was only a third of the way to Melbourne.  My journey stretched ahead over a thousand kilometers.

Breakfast waited until I passed through several seaside towns, although my stomach protested its emptiness from last night's meager dinner of soup and beer.

Through wave-kissed cliffs and farmlands; across plains spotted by eucalyptus trees; over mountains blanketed in numerous national forests, I traveled all morning and all afternoon.  I planned to reach Melbourne that night, but I wanted to see every bit of shore and countryside between here and there.

I took as many side roads as I dared, some of which became dirt roads five minutes after my turnoff.  I felt guilty to stop, risking not arriving in time; but I wanted to enjoy the journey and I wanted photographs to preserve the sites when my memory failed me in the coming months. 

The southern part of New South Wales is a sight to behold.  In retrospect, I wish I had taken a week to make the drive.  The cliffs stand spectacularly above the bluest ocean you can imagine.  Then minutes from the ocean, I would be driving through rolling farmland spotted by monstrous gray boulders.  Fifteen minutes later, the forest rose above me.  Often, I would drive for twenty minutes without seeing another vehicle.  It was as if I had the continent to myself.

Phone Tag and the Race to Dan's Birthday

Hundreds of miles from Melbourne, I phoned the home of my brother's future in-laws. Future Father-In-Law Brian Beck spoke to me via the message on his answering machine: "Leave a message after the tone. If this is Dave, you can reach Dan at the following number," chimed the British accent across the wire.  I tried the number, but was met with a busy signal. I called the Beck's phone again to let their answering machine know I would call again in an hour. 

The afternoon was fast fading and I ate my fish and chips (minus the chips) in the car, actually believing I had a prayer of arriving in Melbourne before dark.
The highway passed through small towns of eastern Victoria, which reminded me very much of the small towns of Indiana, Ohio, or Michigan. People smiled and waved and said "No worries" when I thanked them for directions or food service.

I tried phoning Dan again from the next town, but got no answer, so I left another message on the Becks' machine.

I finally reached Dan from a phone booth in Lakes Entrance, a small coastal city, named for the many rivers that lead from the ocean to the numerous inland lakes.  He gave me the number for Anthony's cellular phone and told me to call when I arrived in Melbourne.   This was ideal as, by they time of my scheduled arrival, they would all be celebrating at a pub to be named later. 

Night fell on eastern Victoria and I began to wonder if I would arrive in time for my brother's birthday.  Whereas the past two days, I had made a point to take every possible detour to explore any new town or valley, I now raced single-mindedly toward the Victorian capital.  There was nothing to see through the darkness, except when I passed through the occasional town or city.  I slowed thought these obstructions only as much as I had to.  Their names are a blur to me.

Bucks Night

I arrived in downtown Melbourne at 11 PM on the night of my brother's birthday.  I called Anthony's cell phone.  He answered from a table in a pub and rattled off directions how to get from my phone booth to the pub where they were celebrating.  I was totally lost until I looked closer at my city map.  On it, was marked the location of every pub in the city of Melbourne.  My heart leapt as I traced a path the two miles (about 8 turns on one-way streets) to the pub where the boys celebrated Dan's "Bucks Night". 

It was 11:45 PM on the night of his 35th birthday when I found my brother in a side street pub half a world away from my home. 

Our other brother Doug was there also, along with Anthony.  Rowena's brother Rowland sat quietly across the table and Martin  (he flew in from Sydney in under two hours while I made my two-day trek) completed the group. 

All had been drinking for several hours and were well lit by this time.  Anthony insisted on going to a different kind of bar.  I'm not sure if these kinds of establishments exist in the United States, but apparently they are quite popular in Australia.  Most of the customers are men and the entertainment consists of women dancing on a stage and removing their clothing one article at a time.  Anyway, the current pub was closing so we had to go somewhere, so off we staggered to a nearby adult entertainment establishment. 

The first place that Anthony recommended would not allow us entrance because Rowland wore a t-shirt (I guess the management holds the customers to a stricter dress code than the entertainment.)   Fortunately, I had my luggage in the trunk and was able to loan him a collared shirt.  Unfortunately, they still refused us entrance because (they claimed) Martin and Rowland were too drunk.

The place across the street was glad to take our cover charge and we stayed there until I returned from the restroom to find the bouncer attempting to throw Rowland out of the bar.  I managed to convince the bouncer that Rowland was not as drunk as he appeared and that he was being well supervised by the rest of us.  The bouncer accepted my story and left Rowland alone.  Five minutes later,  Rowland stood up and marched into a large mirror, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the other Rowland blocking his path from across the glass. 

"Guys," I said, leaning across the table.  "It's time to leave.     Now."  And it was.  I grabbed Rowland and rushed him toward the street.  The bouncers followed close behind.