robinesrock, Author at The Great Australian Bucket List

Swim with Tuna

Posted on May 4, 2023 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

Dozens of dark shadows slice through the turquoise waters of a holding pen located off the coast of Granite Island. They’re big as sharks, but swim faster and with more deliberation, fading from vision before I can compute that I’ve seen them at all. These are southern Bluefin tuna, weighing up to 200 kilograms and blitzing underwater at speeds of up to 70 km/hr. I’m on a 40-metre wide in-sea aquarium called the Oceanic Victor, putting on a wetsuit for one of the more unique experiences you’ll find in a book all about unique experiences. Hopping into the water with snorkel and mask, plenty of sardines, and a bucket list swim with the Ferrari of the Oceans.

Oceanic Victor was founded as an educational facility to provide visitors, and children in particular, the opportunity to interact with marine life. It’s the brainchild of Mike Dyer and Yasmin Stehr, who’s Dad achieved international acclaim for pioneering the propagation of prized southern Bluefin tuna. A sought-after fish that sells for thousands of dollars each in fish markets around the world, southern Bluefin tuna has been overfished to the point of extinction. Ranching them into pools is nothing new, but the ability to breed the fish – and the introduction of strict quotas – has created a hugely successful sustainable tuna industry in Port Lincoln. When Yasmin noted how positively her kids and their friends reacted to the tuna studied in holding pens, she was inspired to bring this experience to the masses. So began a long process of permits and protests, of consultation with top conservation and marine biologist experts to create a hands-on tuna encounter. The netted enclosure, a much smaller version of the large pens that sit off the coast of Port Lincoln, was brought to Victor Harbour. Inside are various species of fish, a couple Port Jackson sharks, and eighty tuna that have won the Bluefin lottery. Each day they are fed and monitored by marine scientists, and will see out their estimated 20-year lifespan perfectly safe from the world’s sushi markets. As I hop into the water with silver sardines floating around me, I wonder if I’ll be as lucky to join them. With the crew tossing in sardines, I briefly see a creature that resembles a razor blade with saucer-eyes screaming towards me. It snatches the fish faster than a blink and is gone. This is followed by a series of splashes as different tuna pluck sardines all around me. They’re everywhere and nowhere at once, and I find myself spinning around in my buoyant wetsuit trying to grasp the moment. It takes me a few minutes to settle and just let the spectacle unfold before my eyes. Tuna snatch sardines that float inches away from my nose with an uncanny and thrilling precision. It’s like being inside a target range with bullets designed to just miss me. I’m told it’s safe to hold out a sardine and let the tuna snatch it directly from my hand. Watching an child-sized Bluefin approach you straight on with its mouth open is terrifying. I flinch at the last moment and let go, but the friendly crew are happy to accommodate with as many sardines as I like. Eventually I succeed, bewildered, not for the first time, with the burning question: How is this a thing?

Around me are people of all ages sharing a similar experience, indeed, the Oceanic Victor has been designed to inspire and enthral the whole family. If you don’t want to get wet, you can pop into an underwater observatory to see the tuna from below, and younger kids will love the on-board touch pool of starfish, mussels, fish and other marine specimens. The crew, which includes friendly marine biologists, help my four year old daughter attach sardines to a pole, and she’s bursting with joy each time a tuna snatches it from her. As for me, the opportunity to hop into the adjacent pool and hand-feed schools of fish is eclipsed when Fernando brings over one of the puppies…a spackled Port Jackson shark, and invites me to swim holding its fins. With its Miss Piggy lips, rough skin and big eyes, the shark is totally at ease with me, leading me around the 6-metre deep enclosure, even diving underwater so I can wave to my delighted kids checking out the action from the observatory. All under the watchful eye of a scientist who treats the sharks as you would your own puppy.

Despite its commitment to education and marine conservation, there was some controversy when Oceanic Victor opened for business in Victor Harbour, the same controversy that surrounds any attraction with animals in captivity (even if said animals were destined for fine Japanese restaurants). All are welcome to their opinions, and this is not the forum for that debate. This is a book about unique Australian activities and destinations, and it is a book about magical moments. Within the space of a half hour, I’d swum in the blue waters of Encounter Bay, hand-fed magnificent tuna, swum with a shark, waved to my glowing kids inspired in an underwater observatory, and developed a deep and lasting respect for one of the ocean’s most incredible fish.

Bike Down Mt Wellington

Posted on October 1, 2019 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

While it’s certainly not the only bicycle experience to tick off in Tasmania, or even on our bucket list, this ride does have a crucial element we can all appreciate: down. Bike rides are great but, unless you’re into pain and muscular glory, they’re even more fun when all you have to do is hang on, apply the brakes and let gravity do the rest. Add spectacular views over one of Australia’s most beautiful cities – or the chance to rip through some local trails – and this bucket list experience all but pedals itself. The peak called kunanyi/Mount Wellington (a dual name that respects the mountain’s Indigenous heritage) towers 1271 metres over Hobart. It features the Jurassic dolerite ‘organ pipe’ cliffs that I’ve seen on mountains in Argentina, South Africa and Antarctica, geological reminders of the days when all three were linked as the Gondwana supercontinent. More importantly for local residents, the imposing mountain creates a rain shadow, allowing Hobart to be the second driest capital in the nation, even though it is located in a rather wet state. Often capped with snow year- round, the summit lookout has significantly lower temperatures than downtown Hobart. You can also expect blustery winds, a sensational view and a dozen people wearing fluorescent vests standing next to mountain bikes. Under Down Under Tours run two to three descents of the mountain every day during summer, providing transfers, bikes, guides and a support vehicle. On the drive up, passing the remains of hard- wood trees destroyed in a huge mountain fire in 1967, our guide points out hazards to watch for.

‘We’ll be going down 21 kilometres. Don’t worry, I’ve rarely seen anyone break out in a sweat,’ he says, reassuringly.
Certainly, the weather is cooperating a lot better than my first descent a dozen years ago. I still remember the wind chill blowing through my bones, and the disappointing view of mist from the lookout point. Today I see Greater Hobart and its surrounds in all its glory – the city, hills, islands, ocean and Derwent River. I also see people arriving at the summit having pedalled up by bicycle, which must be spectacular fitness training and/or a horrendous form of physical torture. We hop on our bikes and begin the first descent to a spot where we can regroup, take some photos and adjust our seats for comfort. Two kilometres pass very quickly when you’re rocketing down a steep hill surrounded by alpine forest. We’re advised to keep left as we’re sharing the road with cars, and without lines in the road vehicles tend to gravitate towards the centre. We’re merely cruising down, taking corners as fast as our nerves can handle, with our support vehicle bringing up the rear. At our next meeting spot, our guide Lainie points out an optical illusion. In the distance below is the gentle arc of the Tasman Bridge linking Hobart to the eastern suburbs. ‘If you stand the Tasman Bridge on its end, it would be taller than Mount Wellington,’ she muses, which seems illogical from way up here, but since the bridge is 1.4 kilometres long, it makes perfect sense.

As we continue onwards, the flora changes to reflect the altitude, although I’m too busy looking ahead and smiling with the exhilaration of speed. Bikers can opt for an off-road section next, which everyone in my group agrees would be a fine idea. Although there will be some peddling and tricky navigation over loose gravel, it’s an opportunity to experience the unspoiled natural environment off the paved road. Biking on forest trails, we reconnect with the road and continue into the suburbs that have been cut into the foothills. We stop at the Cascade Brewery to admire the old convict-cut stones, and pedal past the historic Female Factory (where thousands of convict women and children were imprisoned) before joining city traffic. Snaking through various neighbourhoods, we conclude the ride at our departure point on Elizabeth Street. All in, it’s a two-and-a-half-hour round trip, although without the stops to regroup and chat, you could shave much of that time off. As a tour, it’s a fine way to orientate yourself around Hobart, and easily one of the world’s best commercial biking descents. Our short stint in the forest leaves me hungry for more. With its hilly surrounds, fresh air and great views, Tasmania offers some of the best mountain biking in the country.

That same afternoon, Harry Nichols – local hero, up-and- coming Enduro World Series competitor and Discovery Parks brand ambassador – agrees to take me into the Meehan Range bike park in Clarence. It’s a popular play- ground of marked trails, tracks and jumps, although this time I have to pedal up to enjoy the down. Harry blitzes on runs named Corkscrew, Cliff Top and Smooth as Butter, and I do an awful job trying to keep up. I do, however, execute a couple of awkward wipeouts.
‘Please don’t do as I do. Just go where I go,’ I tell Harry. Harry tells me about the Maydena Bike Park, the country’s biggest gravity-based bike path, which opened up about ninety minutes outside the city. Tasmania has a welcoming community of mountain bikers, volunteers, bike shops and trail keepers; it’s the kind of destination that belongs on any enthusiastic mountain biker’s bucket list. As for the rest of us, all we have to do is sit in the saddle and start at the top of a mountain.

Click here for more info about the Mount Wellington Descent from The Great Australian Bucket List.

How to Travel Australia with Kids

Posted on September 1, 2019 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

This month sees the publication of 75 Must See Places to Take the Kids (before they don’t want to go). You see, while living and writing The Great Australian Bucket List, I was also travelling with my wife and two kids, aged 2 and 5, moving at a frenetic pace that very nearly did all of us in. Family travel, I was learning, is an entirely different beast. But we discovered some truly incredible wonders for all ages, gathered priceless memories, and also learned a thing or two. To celebrate the launch of the new book, here’s some of that hard-fought wisdom for parents of young kids, and the people and family who support them.

75 Must See Places to Take the Kids (Published by Affirm Press)

There Are No Gurus

With due respect, any Mom or Dad who claims to have family travel figured out is delusional, likely fibbing, or paying someone a lot of money to look after their kids. The truth is: young kids do not give a flying crap about your best laid plans and intentions. Rather, they’ll make a crap while you’re flying (probably an explosive one, the kind that just violates a diaper). Children under the age of five are frequently erratic, inefficient, agitated, annoying, moody, and instinctively know how to push your buttons. And this is before you take them on a stressful journey. Of course, you love them more than anything in the world, and there are moments of such tenderness, magic and wonder it makes all other forms of travel – backpacking, honeymooning, grey nomading – pale. But you will work for those moments, and pay for them in blood, sweat, tears and dollars. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Flying

If there’s strategy, we tried it. Not letting the kids nap so they’ll sleep on the plane (they didn’t). Letting them nap so they’d be rested (they weren’t). Buying books, loading up devices, crayons for colouring in…the reality is that some flights are terrible, and some flights are not. Overwhelmingly, we found Jetstar’s crew to be sympathetic and helpful. Fellow passengers meanwhile could be broken down into several categories: a) We’ve been there and Thank God we’re not there any more b) How dare you bring your snotty kids on this plane and ruin my flight c) I’m right there with you and we’d chat but my kid is eating the tray that was last wiped down in 1997 …and d) Every cent I invested in these noise cancelling headphones was worth it. Never will time tick more slowly than when you find yourself on a plane with your screaming, inconsolable, jetlagged and overtired infant and toddler. The best thing that can be said for flying is that it eventually ends, you will land in your destination, it beats spending all those hours in a car, and with devices, flying today is very much easier than it used to be.

Driving

We drove almost 20,000 kilometres during our trip, and it definitely helped that we were in a comfortable Ford Everest. With direction from my toddler, I curated a playlist of 100 songs I knew my kids would enjoy, and adults might be able to stomach on endless repeat. We learned that snacks must be instantly accessible, along with wipes, and towels for sudden eruptions of projectile vomit on winding roads (watch for seismic clues like the kids being too quiet, moaning, or turning sepia). Good car seats are essential (we went with Britax) with the advantage of the kids being strapped in. Sometimes strapping them in was an easy process, and sometimes we’d lean in too close to fasten a buckle and get the open-handed slap to the face. Don’t blame the kid, you’re a sitting duck. GPS definitely takes the sting out of getting lost and provides some indication on how long the journey will take, not that this will stop the endless barrage of “Are We There Yet?” Road games help, especially for the older kids. Drugs occasionally help, especially for parents.

Packing

Before you depart, resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to pack far more than you need. Imagining every conceivable scenario, you simply can’t help yourself. What if it gets unseasonably hot, cold, wet, dry, or buggy? If it does, you can deal with it with a quick visit to the store, mall or market. Our kids outgrew their shoes twice in 10 months. For almost a year, their wardrobe consisted of a small suitcase that seemed to refresh its garments along the way, when the holes and stains and smells overwhelmed the clothing’s usefulness. Even with a limited selection, our five year old would have meltdowns over her fashion choices, with a favourite dress or shirt cast out from one day to the next. Your best bet is to pack a travel uniform of sorts, with the same garment combo in multiples. Good luck with that.

Eating

The restaurants of Australia seem convinced that the most important food groups for every growing child are chicken nuggets and chips, pizza, mac and cheese, fish and chips, chicken nuggets served with mac and cheese, and pizza served with fish and chips. Basically, all the essential minerals and vitamins one can get. Of course, any time we ordered something that wasn’t from the Kids Menu, the kids would take one bite, and the bill would take a bigger bite. This is why we did a lot of cooking wherever we stayed, which not only saved us money, it also saved our sanity.

Accommodation

Self-catering cabins at holiday parks (we had wonderful stays with Discovery Holiday Parks) and two bedroom apartment rentals (we stuck with Oaks Hotels) served us much better than a traditional hotel room. Kids need the space, you need the kitchen, and holiday parks come with jumping pillows, pools, playgrounds, and most importantly, other kids for yours to play with. We used an ultra-light, easy-to-assemble travel crib from Valco Baby which ensured our two year old had consistency. He’s a good sleeper, but our five year-old frequently ended up in our bed, and I frequently ended up in her bed, a sofa, and one time, on the floor in the closet. You do what you got to do. Kids thrive on routine, and travel is all about shaking that routine up. Everyone has to give or take to make it work on the road. By everyone, I refer to parents giving up everything, and the kids taking as much as they can.

Activities

I’ve written several “bucket list” books that investigate unique experiences, and I’ve built my career as a writer who chases the extraordinary, a Connoisseur of Fine Experiences. You can visit a beach, wildlife park, waterpark, or museum anywhere, so I had to dig a little deeper for activities that could include my kids. Stuff like standing beneath a snarling lion inside a cage or hand feeding Bluefin tuna in South Australia. Stuff like swimming with baby crocs or in natural jacuzzis (NT), being inside a glass box hanging off a building or panning for gold (VIC), kayaking off Fraser Island or feasting in a shipping container food market (QLD), sailing with dugongs and chasing quokkas (WA), petting stingrays and braving the world’s steepest railcar (NSW) and jumping on modern art and staring down ferocious devils (TAS). Of course, the kids loved the beaches (the Whitsundays, Bondi, Byron Bay), the wildlife parks (Caversham in WA, Cleland in SA, Wildlife Habitat in QLD, the Melbourne Zoo), the museums (Scienceworks and the Melbourne Museum in VIC, Questacon in ACT, the Maritime Museum in Perth) and waterparks (most of the Discovery Holiday Parks we stayed in, the Oaks Oasis). But most of all, they loved ice cream. Because in the end, it didn’t matter what incredible activity or destination we ticked off, the best part was just being together, spending quality time as a family that we’ll always look back on with joy, wonder, and inspiration.

Despite the challenges – the meltdowns, the pukes, the frenetic meals, lack of sleep, intense drives – my family managed to breathe deep, laugh, play, capture memories we might only appreciate later, and celebrate the incredible Australian opportunities that came our way.

You can buy 75 Must-See Places To Take The Kids at Booktopia and Dymocks.

The Aussie Art of Getting High

Posted on August 4, 2019 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

Australians love the idea of being at the top of buildings and bridges. It’s an grounded in unique locations, over-proportionate attention to personal safety, slick marketing, huge opportunities for commercial profit, and less cynically, the chance to do something unusual. Depending on your age, interest and physical ability, it will range anywhere from “wow, that was one of the most thrilling adventures of my life!” to “wow, I can’t believe I just paid for… that?” Here’s a handy round up of the bucket list options in Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Gold Coast and Brisbane.

SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGECLIMB

The most iconic climb in the country is one slick operation, capable to funnelling in full tour buses in one end and successful bridge climbers holding mementos out the other. Processed through a series of efficient assembly line-like stages, you get suited, briefed and safely, attached, and then walk a series of ladders, gangways and arches. The view of the Opera House and the Sydney CBD is worthwhile, and if you’re a visitor, you’ll learn much from the running commentary about the city and history of the bridge. You can climb at dawn, twilight, night or during the day, with a variety of flexible packages designed to eliminate whatever excuse you have for not doing climbing atop the world’s largest steel-arched bridge. Millions of people have done it, over 4000 couples have got engaged, and the oldest climber was 100 years old.

ADELAIDE OVAL ROOF CLIMB

This one befuddled me with the fearsome language “Take on an Icon!” and redundant safety precautions. Last time I checked you don’t have to strap yourself into a harness, cover your rings in medical tape, remove every object from your person, take a breathalyser, and wear an overall to climb up a ladder, or walk a gangway. It probably wasn’t fun dealing with the insurance companies on this one, who surely imagined every conceivable scenario of the silliness one could get up to on a stadium roof. The Oval is fetching, particularly if you take the tour and spend the extra dough during an AFL or cricket match. Spending a few minutes on the seats overlooking the pitch is total bucket list. I did a 2-hour Twilight climb, watching the Riverbank light up and the fruit bats fly across the city. All I could think of was a: do we really need all this safety stuff, and b: it would have been great to have done this on a game day.

QI SKYPOINT CLIMB, GOLD COAST

Queensland’s Gold Coast is has long sandy beaches, and squirmy canals that shape the city’s character. The best place to see them is from the Q1 Observatory, and better yet stepping outside for the highest external building climb in the country. I followed the typical routine as dictated by the stringent requirements dreamed up by the geniuses of insurance liability: light jump suit, safety harness, breathalyser, cameras and phones in a lock box. There’s points for the high-speed elevator that gets you to Level 77 in just 42.7 seconds. From the Observatory, it’s 140 steps up a walkway to the summit, safely locked into a railing. Here you can lean over the beach of Surfers Paradise, gaze down a 270-metre vertical drop, and wonder why no-one is climbing to the top of the other tall buildings that frame the coastline. It’s a 90-minute experience (including the safety briefing stuff) and your ticket includes access to the less exposed but just as scenic Observation Deck. You can read more about SkyPoint adventure here.

EUREKA SKYDECK’S THE EDGE

The Eureka Skydeck is another observation deck, boasting the fastest elevator trip in the southern hemisphere, and floor-to-ceiling 360-degree views of the city from 285 metres above the ground. There’s an outside area to grapple with Melbourne’s erratic weather, a kiosk, some befitting touristy-things. Recognizing its lack of edge in the thrills department, Eureka also offers The Edge, a moving glass cube that extends out the 88^th floor and suspends above the city. Anchorman Ron Burgundy might say you’ve been trapped in a “glass cage of emotion.” My young kids didn’t have any scary problems when the glazed windows cleared (with a sound effect crack for good measure) to reveal Melbourne beneath their feet. Then again, they are my kids. Couples have been known to propose and those with a fear of heights, well, shouldn’t be doing stuff like this in the first place.

Story Bridge Climb – Image Courtesy Visit Brisbane

STORY BRIDGE CLIMB AND ABSEIL

Brisbane’s storied landmark is the only bridge climb that lets you abseil your way down. The three-hour tour operates at dawn, dusk and twilight, and lets you scale to the top of the Story Bridge for 360-degree views of the twinkling city, the Glass House Mountains and south to the Scenic Rim. Suitably impressed, you’ll head over to the southern pylon for a thirty metre- abseil down into Captain Burke Park. The adventure, of course, is tailored for ’bucket list enthusiasts’.

Climb the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree

Posted on July 3, 2019 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

Thin metal rods are poking out a giant tree, spiraling up and up (and up) towards a wooden platform, 75 metres in the Western Australia sky. These karri trees are amongst the tallest hardwoods in the world, and this particular tree, the tallest in the forest, was once used as a fire lookout for any trouble smoking in the forest. It seemed like an innocent enough roadside attraction, just 15 minutes drive from the town of Pemberton, where I had refueled on gas and a beef pie. I had wandered into Warren National Park out of curiosity, captivated by a sign directing visitors to the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree. Playing on my iPod was U2, which in a very strange way, was a sign of perfect synchronicity. Dave Evans is the real name of guitarist The Edge, and his namesake tree, a pure coincidence, seemed destined to deliver the same.

At the top of this lookout tree stands a large platform weighing two tons. To get there I would have make my way up 130 erratically staggered thin black rods, thrusting myself up between ever widening gaps. From the bottom it looked harmless enough, because I couldn’t see just how high I had to climb. I started eagerly, one pole at a time, a little unnerved by a very thin wire safety net which looked like it could maim more than save. It didn’t take long before I looked down, and my knees began to feel as wobbly as a Central African government.

It was one of those beautifully dangerous things I love about Australia, where the world’s most poisonous snakes and spiders might be living in your pillow. I read an actual headline that week: “Man Breaks Leg Kicking Spider”. The dry rolling countryside is rife with critters, while the long sandy beaches expose you to a strong sun that can bake you in seconds. Still, this is gorgeous country, with a big sky, small population, and striking eucalyptus forests leading up to the country’s premier wine region, Margaret River. 25m above the ground, I realized that whoever built this tree path must have had one too many drinks. I was clutching onto the thin poles so tight my muscles were cramping, my toes clenched so hard you could crack a bullet between them. Higher and higher, and just when I was sure I might absolutely wet myself with fear, I arrived at a small wooden platform. A truly unhelpful sign read: “That was the easy bit, mate!” Aussie, oy, oy oy vey.

A sturdy tanned Australian fellow crawled down from above, drenched in sweat. “C’mon mate, once you’re this far, you may as well go all the way to the top,” he said, in that typical Australian drawl which makes any stranger seem like a good ol’ buddy. It encouraged me to continue my climb, cursing the damn Australian sticky flies, relentlessly exploring my nostrils and ears. I reached another rest platform, and another, and then another, until at last, I was on top of the tree, dripping in sweat, staring out above the lush forest in all directions. The sea cast a blue glow in the distance. My knees were still swaying, but that might have had something to do with the tree itself, dancing to a gentle ballad in the wind. During strong wind, the tree can sway 1.5 metres in either direction.

Cautiously, I made my way down, wondering why they don’t sell T-Shirts at the bottom of trunk: “I survived the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree.” I wondered how many people had slipped. I wondered if the safety net worked. I wondered who Dave Evans was, and whether he was the unfortunate chap who could answer both questions. Assuming the latter was affirmative.

The ordeal took an hour, far scarier than any tree I had ever climbed. There wasn’t even an official around to call an ambulance should you drop out the sky, all the way to hell, do not stop and collect your broken bones. If there was, he might tell me “it’s just a big tree, mate. We have spiders bigger than this.”

Travel Stories to Inspire your (Literal) Dreams

Posted on June 3, 2019 | by robinesrock | Leave a Comment

My cabin is as comfortable as any you’ll find on a train, the bed adorned with soft sheets and pillows, and still I cannot fall asleep. Too much on my mind, too much to process from a day exploring remote underground homes in the world’s opal mining capital, too much fun at the open bar aboard The Ghan. I typically read before bedtime as a way to put my mind to rest, but tonight my eyes are too tired to stay open, and my brain too wired to close. It would be great if someone could read me to sleep, with a safe and soothing voice. As for the story, it should be deliberately and delicately crafted to avoid anything too exciting, and take me on a peaceful journey to Sleepland. Just so happens that Phoebe Smith, soon to be the official sleep storyteller-in-residence for the Calm mindfulness app, is in the cabin right next to mine. I’m sure she’s sleeping like a baby.

With over 40 million downloads, 200,000 5-star reviews, and Best App of the Year Awards from both Apple and Google, the Calm app has hit a cultural bulls eye with sharpened z-shaped arrows. It’s loaded with meditations, ambient music and soundscapes, and dozens of sleep stories narrated by folks like Matthew McConaughey, Stephen Fry, Joanna Lumley, and The Wire’s Clarke Peters, who has richer Morgan Freeman voice than Morgan Freeman himself. Millions of satisfied subscribers swear that Calm does exactly as its very name suggests: it calms you down, whether you set-up an easy 15-minute Focus or Anxiety meditation, a fiction or non-fiction story to lull you to sleep, or soothing sounds to massage your ear canal.

Extreme sleeper Phoebe Smith finds a nice warm spot for the night.

“Two million people a month listen to my stories, it’s mind-blowing,” Phoebe tells me. “I admit I was sceptical, until I listened to one of my own stories and quickly fell asleep.” A year has passed since our Ghan adventure across Australia, and she’s in Vancouver on her way up north to to explore the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary. Since we ran about Alice Springs trying unsuccessfully to get an epic author photo for my next book, she’s been called the JK Rowling of Sleep Stories, has been profiled in major media, and fine-tuned her craft. We’re in the lobby bar at the Hotel Vancouver, and having just flown in from Brisbane that morning, Phoebe looks like she could use a little sleep herself. Isn’t a 14-hour flight and 17-hour time the enemy of the well rested? “Honestly, travelling with my own pillow has been a game-changer. Your brain associates the scent of your pillow with sleep, and it really works!” It pays to listen to someone who makes a living devoted to sleep.

Back in the UK where she lives, Phoebe is known for her books and stories about sleeping in unusual, extreme and wild places. I quite like the fact that Calm didn’t hire a scientist or psychologist to methodically bore you to sleep, but rather a storyteller. “Storytelling is such an old tradition, it’s how knowledge and wisdom has been passed down throughout history,” says Phoebe. But hang on, aren’t you essentially writing stories so boring it puts people to sleep? “As a kid, you didn’t want a boring story, but there’s definitely a technique involved. There can’t be too much action or excitement, and it should take you on a journey, which is why trains, boats, rivers and forests work so well. Feedback suggests that most people fall asleep within five to ten minutes, but I get lots of emails from people around the world wanting to know more about the places I write about.” Places like the lavender fields of Provence, the jungles of Madagascar, the Mississippi River and the forgotten forests of Morocco. There are travel stories about oceans and deserts, safaris and night skies. There are train journeys aboard the Orient Express, the Trans-Siberia, and yes, our adventure aboard The Ghan.

We both agree that stories are a far healthier alternative to medication and sleep aids. “These days, we often treat sleep as an inconvenience,” Phoebe explains. “There’s so much going on and instantly available that we can’t switch off, which only adds to the anxiety.” It’s why she turns off her devices at least an hour before bed, keeps her bedroom free of distractions, and is passionate about sleeping in the wild. “When it gets dark, you sleep, and when the sun rises, you wake up. It’s the natural rhythm of our bodies, and it makes you feel calm and rested.” Unlike Phoebe, the very thought of sleeping outdoors, exposed and alone on say, a mountain top, freaks my poor brain out. So I’ll ignore her advice and keep my iPhone handy, ready to load up a Calm sleep story, and let her words inspire a blissful lullaby.

You can follow Phoebe’s extreme sleeps and wild camping here.
Learn more about Calm here.

Author: robinesrock