The Wondering Jew

A killer super-spider

That’s not one. Which, as you’re about to find out, is quite fortunate, because if it was, I’d be dead by now. I encountered this little fella yesterday, and while he’s not a funnel web, our encounter did lead to me finding out quite a bit about the little bastards.

Yesterday, I was outside working on the garden and doing my best to retain as much blood as possible, much to the chagrin of the hordes of mosquitoes who were doing their level best to drain me of every last drop of it. While overturning a few mounds of earth and pulling out weeds, I turned round at one point to see this guy sitting on a rock, completely motionless, just staring at me. I imagine I disturbed his home while yanking up all the roots that wound through the soil out there, and he probably just came out to see what the hell was going on. He didn’t attack me though, he just stood there looking at me as if to say “Dude, what the hell!? I’m trying to sleep!” In fact, he sat there motionless long enough for me to go back inside, grab my camera, and take this picture of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to attack me, but still, being conscious of the fact that Australia is home to some pretty nasty spiders, I thought it might be prudent to try and identify this one before carrying on working around it.

So, I went inside and looked up an Australian spider identification chart. The first one on the list was the funnel web, and I was quite relieved to see that this wasn’t one. The funnel web is big (up to 70mm end to end) and black, which huge muscular fangs.  As I read on, I learned more and more about the funnel web spider, and the more I learned, the more disturbed I became.

Funnel web venom, it turns out, is among the most harmful venom to humans of any animal on the planet. It’s a veritable cocktail of nasty chemicals and toxins, any one of which on its own is enough to give you a ball-achingly bad day, but the main one is a substance called atraxotoxin. This is the stuff that will mess you up. I’m not going to go into details about the symptoms, but let me just say that if you’re lucky enough to have other people around when you get bitten by one of these things – lucky in that if there’s nobody else around to call an ambulance for you, it’s pretty much curtains – rest assured that the cost of your survival will be the knowledge that your friends and family got to watch you soil yourself while you spasm uncontrollably for at least two hours, while in excruciating pain. And that’s just to start.

So it’s safe to say you don’t want to get bitten by one of these. But that’s ok, as our parents made sure we learned when we were young that spiders are probably much more scared of you than you are of them. Well, whoever made that up clearly never heard of the funnel web. They’re not scared of people. In fact, they’re actually described as aggressive spiders. What that means in practical terms is that whereas most spiders will run away given the opportunity, these guys are up for a ruck, they actually want to bite you. They don’t run away, and to make matters worse, they don’t just give you a quick nip to scare you off while they make good their escape. No, during a funnel web attack, they clamp onto their victim with a vice-like death grip and bite repeatedly until, well presumably until they get bored or distracted by another tasty looking human. I came across one university medical department whose website stated that “in most cases the experience is horrific”. This isn’t some shmoe’s opinion, this is a university medical department! And don’t think covering up will protect you; their fangs are powerful enough to pierce a fingernail with ease, and their incessant repeated fang-jabs have been known to go straight through thick leather shoes.

Still, not to worry, these are exotic spiders, and quite rare in densely populated areas. Well, actually that’s not true at all. In fact, they’re extremely common in residential areas, and are known to quite frequently wonder into people’s homes, especially in the summer. You see, on a hot summer night, the male funnel web, feeling a bit randy, wanders off into the night looking for a mate. They generally end up in people’s houses, and being somewhat pissed off that rather than finding a hot piece of funnel web tail to schtup, they’ve come across the likes of you and me, they decide a good biting will be in order instead. They’re also known to quite commonly wander into swimming pools, where they can survive under water for up to 3 weeks.

But their natural habitat is soil, they’re ground spiders. They’re called funnel webs because they live in holes which they dig into the soil and line with web, creating a funnel. So I’m sure you can imagine that all those holes in the ground, which I had previously dismissed as unimportant, suddenly became much more foreboding.

Still, all this is pretty horrific, and is enough to engender within me a deeply ingrained hatred of funnel web spiders (and I love spiders!), but that’s not the worst of it. The worst thing is, their venom is only harmful to primates. It’s completely harmless to other animals; cats, dogs and rabbits are known to be bitten by these things and walk away unharmed. That means they actually evolved a specific venom just to screw with us. I think we did something to piss these guys off in the distant primordial past. I don’t know what, but whatever it was, they sure as hell haven’t forgotten about it.

So what we have is a spider that not only has one of the deadliest venom’s known to man, but a stinking attitude problem to go with it. These spiders having this venom is like someone giving Osama Bin Laden control of the world’s biggest nuclear weapons arsenal; in short, a freaking bad idea. I don’t know whether I’m better off with my new found knowledge of funnel web spiders, so that I can be better prepared, or whether ignorance is bliss. Either way, my mission in life is now to stay the hell away from the vicious little bastards.

Anyway, back to the picture at the top. So it’s not a funnel web, which I’m sure you can appreciate given the circumstances is a very good thing, but then what is it? I don’t know. It’s not on any of the spider identification charts I found, and doesn’t fit any of the other descriptions. Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as a funnel web…right?

Merry christmas!

The Wondering Jew x

It’s been over a week since I left for surf camp, and although the trip was only two and a half days, I’ve spent a good portion of the time since recovering, which is why I’ve only just gotten around to posting about it. Still, apologies for the delay, and without further ado, here is my full report. No pictures I’m afraid, cameras and the ocean don’t mix.

Day One

The trip began outside Sydney Central YHA, where I was told to be waiting at 7.15pm for a ‘luxury coach’, which would pick us up and take us 3 hours up the coast to a place called Bulahdelah, where the surf school is based. When I got there, a small handful of people were scattered outside. I considered approaching some of them to see if they were also waiting to go to surf school, but it’s a busy hostel, and there were a lot of people coming and going, so I thought the chances were pretty slim. But mostly I’m just not that sociable.

Eventually and somewhat late, a rusty, battered minibus started to pull round the corner, with We Are The Champions blaring out at full volume. I couldn’t hear that, though, as it was drowned out by the caterwauling of the 15 or so crispy-fried twenty-somethings occupying the bus. Sticking their heads out the windows, and constantly looking around to make sure they had the full attention of the passersby (in a totally non-obvious way), they slipped in and out of the song, taking every opportunity between lyrics and mid line to scream and wave.

As the minibus pulled up outside the hostel, it became fairly apparent that this was our ‘luxury coach’, and I felt overwhelmed with a sense of despair when the occupants of the bus beckoned for us all to get on. Now, I love to party as much as the next guy (actually, probably more), and I don’t know, maybe I’m getting old, but I suddenly realised that I actually really did want to learn to surf. Sure, I wanted to have a good time, but I was worried that this trip was going to rapidly degrade into nothing more than a booze-soaked beach party which, while fun, didn’t seem worth the $200 I had paid for the trip. But mostly, I just thought they were a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots.

Much to my elation, it transpired that they were returning from their trip, and were getting off the bus. Not satisfied that they’d sufficiently caught the attention of the entire population of New South Wales, they made sure they did this as loudly as possible too. I won’t go into detail, as I feel it’s probably time to move on and start describing my trip rather than theirs, but I will say that we were given warnings not to use the pool or the showers at surf camp. Don’t ask why, you don’t want to know.

Eventually Steve (our driver and surf instructor for the duration of our trip), after a cheeky smooch with a lobster girl from the previous group, managed to get us all onto the bus, and them off. Once they stopped banging on the sides and trying to climb in through the windows (if you’re picturing some kind of Dawn of the Dead scenario, you’d be about right), the bus pulled away. Within a few minutes after that, we pulled up again to pick up a crate of beer, and then we were back on the road.

The trip up to surf camp was pretty uneventful, but did take close to four hours. It probably needn’t have taken that long, but there was a stop for dinner, and then I had to ask Steve to pull over again; drinking beer on a 3-4 hour bus trip was nice and all, but inevitably lead to me needing to pay the price all men must eventually pay to the porcelain god. Anyway, we eventually got to camp at about 11.30pm, to find another group on a surf trip, rather inebriated and gathered round a fire. After dumping our bags in our cabin, a few of us joined them for a drink or two, before turning in for the night.

Day Two

At 7am we got woken up for breakfast, before being given time for a quick freshen up before departure. We were all marched round to the board shed (which is a shed, in which they keep the surf boards), handed a wetsuit, and told to jump on the bus, while Steve attached a trailer to the back carrying all our surf boards. We drove about half an hour to a beach at Booti Booti, where we unloaded the boards and awaited our first lesson. The surf technique they taught us is what they called the ‘four point’ method. It involves four distinct steps in the process between paddling to match the wave and standing up on your surf board. I won’t go into the details here, you’ll just have to try it out for yourself!

Perhaps a little over eager to just get out into the ocean and get on my board, I hit the waves. The water was actually warm, so I shunned the wetsuit in favour of just my boardies. This was a mistake. As we all learned that day, the wetsuit does more than just keep you warm, it offers you protection from sunburn, and the severe chaffing you get on your chest or stomach from the board. Trust me, I’m not exaggerating, it’s severe. My nipples actually scabbed over.

That aside, the actual surfing itself was great fun, and I actually managed to stand up a few times, catch some waves, and do some actual surfing! Most of the other people in the group did much better though, some seemed like naturals. Having said that, at one point when three of us had caught the same wave and seemed headed for a certain collision, on pure instinct alone I managed to steer my board out the way. I would have stayed up, too, if I’d have focused on myself rather than looking back at them over my shoulder and laughing. Yeah, I fell off. And yeah, I deserved it. But my balance is pretty good, and once I was up on my board, I was able to stay up and surf pretty well. Actually standing up is the bit I have yet to master.

After a few hours surfing in the morning we had a break for lunch. After lunch the lesson turned to some more advanced techniques, but unfortunately I had to sit the rest of the day out due to injury. I’m not going to tell you what that injury was. Trust me, you don’t want to know. But needless to say, I spent the next few hours feeling sullen and disappointed, as I watched my surfing companions frolicking in the ocean and catching all the best waves. Not to mention feeling somewhat scared due to the nature of this injury.

After that, we packed up and piled back into the minibus. We headed to a small parade of shops, where most of the group bought crisps and ice cream. I went into a pharmacy to see about tending to my wounds. After that, we all piled back into the bus and headed to a pub (well, a recreation centre/social club, but they had a bar), where we bought a drink and then sat on the shore of a beautiful lake. I didn’t think to ask the name of the lake, I wish I had now.

After we finished our drinks we headed back to base camp. Everyone had a quick shower and freshened up before heading back to the bar/club house for dinner. We wasted no time in getting started on beer and sangria while we waited for dinner to be served. Before to long, the food had been served and eaten, the sun had set, and the party was in full swing. This stayed quite civilised for the first couple of hours, despite a long round of staff vs. guests drinking games, which included dancing on tables.

After a couple of hours, most people went to bed. Believe it or not, surfing is actually quite physically taxing. Still, there were at least 20 or so of us still awake and still drinking. By this point the camp manager had come to join us, and had insisted on ploughing me and and Bill (an air traffic controller from Charlotte, North Carolina, who was on the trip with his wife) with tequila. Things had definitely heated up by this stage, those that were staying the distance were picking up the pace.

The pool party had now lived up to it’s name, with the pool being occupied by a number of people, mostly fully clothed, who had either jumped, or been thrown, in. I was lucky enough to be given some advanced warning that I was next, and with my wallet in one pocket, and my iPhone in another, I did the only sensible thing. I stripped to my underwear and jumped in. It’s safe to say that by now my inhibitions had dropped slightly. But rather than just jump into the pool, I did what at the time seemed like an incredibly clever and macho thing to do. I decided to somersault in, and landed with a resounding smack! sun-burnt back first straight onto the water. Ouch. Still, time for one or two more drinks, and then it was time to go to bed.

Day Three

What seemed like five minutes later, we got the breakfast wake up call. I personally would have preferred more sleep. But I soldiered on, got out of bed, got ready, and headed down to breakfast. After all, I’d come to surf, and surf I would, dammit! So after the same routine as the previous day, we headed off again. This time, we went to a different beach, Seal Rocks. This was, without doubt, the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to in my life. Admittedly, I haven’t been to many, and the few to which I have been have been overrun by people, ice cream stands, and littered with used condoms, but nonetheless, this was a beautiful place. The water was warm, and also perfectly crystal clear. Chest deep in seawater, I could still see to the bottom.

I was recovered enough from my injury to get back on my board, so I did a bit more surfing. I struggled though, partially because I’d fallen behind the rest of the group, and in my haste and eagerness to keep up, I pretty much ignored the four point method, and spent most of my time trying to jump up on the board. That didn’t work so well. But also, I’d picked up a slightly more advanced board than the one I’d been using the previous day, and I just couldn’t get the traction I needed, which meant my feet kept slipping off. Still, managed to stand up a few times again.

Interestingly, whereas nobody had worn a wetsuit the day before, everyone had one on now. They were short legged though, and while I managed to avoid sunburn nearly everywhere, the backs of my knees got charred to a crisp. I didn’t feel this until hours later, but when I did, I sincerely regretted not applying enough sunscreen there. Unfortunately it was only a morning of surfing, and not a full day, as we needed to head back to Sydney in the afternoon. We packed up just after lunch and headed back to camp.

A quick shower later and we were back on the road. This was what must have been a much quieter trip than the previous group; nearly everyone was asleep. It was uneventful, and after a fun packed couple of days, we arrived back where we started. While I certainly didn’t master the art of surfing, I did learn the basics, and whereas now I’ve got the confidence to head down to a beach on my own, rent a board, and just get out there and practice, there’s no way I would have been able to do that before this trip. I wouldn’t have known where to start. This was a great trip, and I met some lovely people along the way, none of whom I’ll be keeping in touch with, before you ask. Nothing wrong with any of them, but like I said, I’m just not that sociable.

The Week Since

As it’s been a while since my last post I thought I might as well fill in some of the gaps. Like I said at the beginning, for the first couple of days at least, I didn’t do anything other than recover from the trip. I was really badly sunburned, especially on the backs of my knees, which made it particularly difficult to walk. Beleive it or not, I was also sunburned on my scalp. I guess my hair’s not as thick as it used to be, I must be getting old. So the lessons were, lots of sunscreen, re-applied frequently, and wear a hat. It’s all the same advice you hear a million times usually ignore, but having personally experienced the effects of ignoring this advice, I think I’ll be respecting the sun a bit more from now on.

Still, not done much since, a bit more freelance work, a nice brunch on Sunday, and a trip into the City to meet with another recruitment consultant. Got some great advice from her, and while it’s getting closer to Christmas, I remain optimistic about the work situation. Speaking of which, I need to get some more work done, so I’m going to end it there. Blue Mountains next!

Ciao

Matt x