Johnny Anderson's Autobiography
I can only express what I feel here, due to what I’ve gone through and I find no fault in that. Like I’ve said already, there are thousands if not millions that follow this ideology and that’s their choice. I believe we all have a right after a certain age; to do as we wish but personally it’s the way in which some of these factions operate that bothers me the most. My opinion on Scientology hasn’t changed to this day.
For some reason I felt that I was some kind of an outside threat to the Jehovah Witnesses and on my third morning of being with them I was asked to leave. By this point I’d seen enough of Perth to satisfy my photographic needs so I simply moved on. From where I was I hitchhiked some five hundred and fifty-seven kilometers to the southwest corner of the country. My destination was a town known as Albany. It was here that another revered blowhole existed. I’d already seen one of these unusual holes in action when I was with David in Kiama and years later I witnessed another in Poipu on the island of Kauai in Hawaii.
From what I understand, after thousands of years of wear, the sea slowly bores a vertical hole through layers of rock. This force drives its strongest waves up the tunnel towards the sky. This passage of water then produces an animal-like sound and then it aggressively sprays the surrounding surface of the rocks. This is what’s known as a blowhole.
After being dropped off near the town, the final ride that I got was with a local. This guy certainly had a bit of fun in him and he said that he’d like to visit the blowhole as well. But shortly after we arrived, he left me. I wondered what in the hell he was doing as he scampered about and started gathering piles of dried grass in his arms. He reminded me of a squirrel and I wondered if he was mad. Watching this bizarre behavior I just stood there and waited, but unfortunately none of the waves were forceful enough to push themselves up through the hole.
In time, my mad host cheerfully approached the dormant blowhole and dumped his armful of grass, twigs, and leaves into it. He packed everything in so tightly and wedged it all into the gap so well, that in the end it finally looked something like a gigantic bird’s nest. Then he gleefully scurried back to stand next to me seeming quite satisfied with what he’d done. Suddenly, I felt a rumbling beneath me and a rush of water pounded upwards and through the hole spraying the twigs and grass over all the tourists who’d been foolish enough to stand too close. The dumbfounded expressions on everyone’s faces had me in hysterics for hours. Now I could see what this madman was up to.
My time in southwestern Australia was rich with extraordinary opportunities. From the blowhole, I zoomed back north to the Karri Forest in Pemberton where I mounted one of the tallest eucalyptus trees there. It stood more than eighty meters high which is approximately a twenty-five storey building, and had generously allowed itself to be embedded with metal stakes that spiraled around its massive trunk. Climbing to its peak I was rewarded with more than what I’d bargained for. I was now above almost all of the thousands of other eucalyptus trees that were around me and I was looking down onto thousands of treetops. It was undoubtedly an unusual sight and more so because of its location, that being from a tree. It was completely breathtaking to be there.
From my place on top of a flourishing green world I traveled north and back through Perth again. This time I was on my way to a place known as The Pinnacles Desert, situated in The Nambung National park. Similar to the termite mounds which I’d seen with Chris in Queensland, this area was also a barren and a washed-out place. Like the termite mounds, The Pinnacles were odd-shaped protrusions that burst forth from the dull desert land.
The limestone rock islands were people sized stone spearheads that poked straight out of the ground. Although barren, the land didn’t seem entirely dead. Indeed, it seemed to take on a life of its own as the setting sun drew lengthening shadows across the terrain and shadows overshadowed shadows. This was one thing that I was starting to appreciate. Nearer the end of most days now, when the sun started to go down, sights especially natural ones were taking on many different shades of color. The eventual Ayres Rock that I was to visit later was well known for that. The rock formations would take on vibrant reds, yellows, oranges and browns and they’d be emphasized so much more by the setting sun.
Further north, I found the antidote to such dry, brown land. I’d wanted to reach a beach area known as Monkey Mia. This sat within an inlet called, Blue Denham Sound. I’d hitchhiked into this quaint part of the world but when I arrived it was quite dark. I was tired after a long days hitch and my host was kind enough to set me up in a tent. I was actually on the beach and I was very excited because I knew that I’d enjoy immensely what laid in wait, when I awoke the following morning.