All posts by Fishy

Fishy has a love of travel. That quickly developed into a love of writing while he was trying to document his adventures. A bearded Australian with a taste for sport and beer, often simultaneously, the web content knowledge gained from running his own travel site has allowed Fishy to expand his fields of expertise, and he has become a full-time freelance writer as he trots the globe. You can keep up with his adventures at

Coachells bells

Coachella in my mind has always been a mythical place that I assumed I’d never see, just hear about every year because something huge happened that had every music-loving person in the world at half chub. When I realised it might fit into our US schedule I got a bit excited myself, but when Siz got me tix as a pressie, I was peaking. Little did I know…

We got going from LA early-ish Thursday morning thanks to Mary and Kosta weaselling another few days off, and it paid off. What can sometimes be a 5 hour trek was done in 2. I had noticed when packing the car that there was a severe lack of tent and sleeping gear, but I put that down to Coachella perhaps having a strict provided-tents-only policy. Things started to seem stranger when we pulled up to a country club in town instead of a paddock. ‘Should we tell Fish what’s happening?’ asked Siz. They decided not to. I thought I might be in for a late birthday lunch or something, but then we went inside and there was a Coachella check-in desk. We got handed a welcome pack and were instructed to follow a concierge in a car to the grounds. Now still at this point I just assumed this was standard operating procedure for Coachella goers and this was the most fucking mintly organised festival ever dreamed up by mankind.

We weren't the only fans on the way to Coachella haha FISHY
We weren’t the only fans on the way to Coachella haha FISHY

Things started to click when we arrived at the festival proper. We pulled up in a car park marked ‘Safari’ and 8 people spread over 4 golf carts rushed over to meet us. ‘Hey Fish, see these golf carts?’ Kosta asked, ‘they drive us to the stages’. We weren’t at Falls anymore. The carts took our bags and ourselves and drove from the car park into an Adelaide oval quality patch of turf with immaculately constructed white tents arranged in a bicycle spoke pattern around a central larger tent. They dropped us at a tent 3 from the centre, where our concierge unzipped the front flaps to display two friggin’ queen size beds, a bar fridge, air conditioner, full length mirror and the cutest little outdoor setting you’ve seen in your whole darned life. Fair to say I was a touch taken aback. ‘And guys if you want to book in for your massages just wander over to the front desk there and they’ll take care of you’. What the hell.

If this isn't 1000 thread count I swear to God I will end you
If this isn’t 1000 thread count I swear to God I will end you

So anyways on top of the most palatial tent on God’s green earth and daily rub-downs, we got;

  • Full buffet breakfasts and midnight snacks daily, as well free non-alcoholic beverages
  • Fancy pants shower and dunny blocks away from the plebs
  • The aforementioned shuttle service to the back of any stage we choose
  • An area at the front of each stage reserved for Safari campers and artists
  • Entry into the VIP and artist areas of the festival
  • A feeling of being better than everyone else
Central site tent outside
The mountains in the background were actually put there for the benefit of Safari pass holders

I was honestly a bit overawed by the whole thing, and it took a while to process the princely situation that we were going to be living. For a fella who hasn’t ever showered at a festival before and more often than not ends up with some sort of bodily fluid in his tent by the end, the thought that I could have the awesome times without the grimier times at Coachella was something else. Especially for the fact the average temperature for Coachella in April is around 40c.

So I decompressed in the car while we ducked out to Slab City from the movie Into The Wild. It’s a crazy hippie commune in the middle of the desert (an hour away from Coachella) that features a huge mound of dirt that a fella spent 28 years covering in papier mache and painting preachy religious slogans on. I can only assume his choice of ‘Jesus come upon my body’ didn’t quite have the connotations back in the 80s that it does today. Or maybe, as the info booth noted, he was just too hopped up on acid to notice.

Jesus would be heaps chuffed
Jesus would be heaps chuffed

Thursday night was enjoyed at our abode with a free feed put on for us high rollers with a DJ pumping out tunes in the central tent. I started to get the feeling the excesses were having an effect on me when I dropped a mountain of fried chicken on the floor and instead of being a normal dude and crying, I laughed and went and got more. Sorry starved African kiddies 😦

I’ll let Siz talk you through the festival proper but I will just say that the one band that I was drop dead keen on – Royal Blood – blew my face off and were by far and away my highlight of the festival. But there were so many hidden gems and stunning headliners that it would probably take the equivalent of a Bryce Courtenay novel to describe everyone/everything.

In summation, we done fun.

Havasu, Crushin’ Brews, Marry a Man

So on we went from San Fran. After 4 hours sleep and 0 cups of coffee we got picked up at 8am Friday by Mary and Kosta from John Wayne airport, heading straight to Lake Havasu for the Easter weekend. FUN FACT: All you have to do in America to get an airport named after you is be in a film.

All I’d heard from people about Havasu before getting there was that it’s a cradle of college filth. If you have a dip in the water you’ll either get pregnant or have the best skin in the world. The major trade along the shoreline is in Pastieez (cos how ELSE would you spell it) which are sticky nipple discs you can chuck on so as not to get locked up for indecent exposure when you’re saying G’day to someone with your chesticles.

All this and more was running through my head when the bomb was dropped that we are currently in the middle of SPRING BREAK for southern California. SPRING BREAK by all reports is exactly like what you see in the movies. Also SPRING BREAK has to be capitalised when written because SPRING BREAK.

What a shithole
What a shithole

We got to Havasu though and it seemed like a chilled out version of Renmark. It’s situated 4 hours inland from LA and it is legitimately in the middle of nowhere – the 4 hours drive was pure desert and apart from the servos that fed the freeway there was not a sign of humanity. Mary’s lovely mum Tina and stepdad Dave have an awesome pair of places that back on to a golf course 5 minutes drive from the lake. Us young pups set up camp at chateau #2 while the oldies held court at #1. The Friday night was spent beering and barbecuing around the Jacuzzi, and thanks to the early start had ended for us by 11pm.

Saturday was scheduled as lake time, and after a slow start by a few people we ended up getting out to the water by lunchtime. Mary’s extended family has teamed up to buy the sweet combo of a pontoon boat (floating bar that does 30kph) and a Nautica ski boat (the most mint ski boat I’ve ever seen). We drove around the lake until we found a nice little clearing, tied the two together and set about our business, which included and was limited to beers.

Two boats backwards is staob owt which means 'heck yeah' in dutch.
Two boats backwards is staob owt which means ‘heck yeah’ in dutch.

I did end up having a quick wakeboard at the end of the day but it wasn’t great because it was choppy and I’d had many beers and people were looking and my mustache was sore and the barometric pressure was way off and excuses. To mend the aches we had family burritos that night and watched the Crows start the season in style, explaining what the hell these lads were doing every 30 seconds to the Americans.

Drowning Siz proved harder when she got her hands on some pool noodles
Drowning Siz proved harder when she got her hands on some pool noodles

Sunday was just chill central. We got back on the pontoon boat for a few hours for a couple more drinks but there were some sore heads and a 4 hour drive to knock over back to LA, so everyone kept themselves in check. Havasu’s must see is London Bridge, which is a previous version of the actual London Bridge that they shipped into the middle of the friggin’ American desert brick by brick and recreated. Pointless, excessive and awesome. The words that come to mind for about 98% of the US that I’ve seen so far.

We got back at 11:30pm Sunday thanks to another marathon effort from Kosta behind the wheel. The poor bastard was the only one of us who needed to work in the morning as well. What a trooper.

For a slice of the Havasu life and to get the title reference, do yourself a favour and have a squiz –

What happens in Vegas is on this public blog

Well happy birthday to me. As Siz mentioned last post, Vegas is just SILLY. You see the movies, you hear the whispers, and if you’re anything like me you go ‘bugger off it’s like that’. Can I please now confirm to you that yes it is. It is exactly like that.

According to urban legend, Steve Angelo can't count past 4
According to urban legend, Steve Angelo can’t count past 4

So our Vegas hook-up Slick Rick led us into his clubs, straight past your VIP lines and into areas that apparently cost the sort of dosh that buys us normies a new set of wheels at a Holden dealership. A sample of the numbers that Slick Rick arranged without charge;

Entry to Steve Aoki – $90

Table and bottles at a live music club – $500-1000

Private Area at super duper swanky club (that we sort of muscled our way into) – $15,000

Fair to say, the money here is vomitus. You’ve got the extremes of someone dropping $15k on a 3 square metre bit of turf then walking outside to be tapped on the shoulder by the friendliest bum ever asking if you could spare 10c for his kids.

So Siz had sneakily arranged a bit of a birthday extravaganza for me on Saturday. We started off by shaking off the hangover from Friday with burgers and beers in our room, before togging up and hitting the pool at our casino (SLS). The pool parties here start mid-morning and you could lose your molars with the amount of bass they’ve got pumping through the speakers even if you’re there that early. We floated around for a few hours before heading back to the room to sharpen up and have snacks & cocktails.

The drinks work
The drinks work

From there we hit up Sayers Live music club where we got prime seating and our own bottles and cocktail waitress, and I got shout-outs galore from the musos. After we all got to the point where we couldn’t feel our own faces we topped off the night with the hype EDM sounds of Steve Angelo at Live club. That thing you see in movies where someone upstairs pours vodka straight into your mouth happened. It was filth.

Anyways, the armchair ride drinking caught up to me after day 2. Siz and I left our hotel room for a total of 30 minutes on Sunday, and solely due to lack of food.

I have officially been Vegased.


Well team, it’s come to this. Turns out we’re those wankers. Oh, you still work for a living and aren’t on a never-ending wanderlust holiday?? What a fuckwit.

So here it is. Our blog. Our little piece of fuck-you-we’re-better-at-life. Just think of it this way – our combined bank accounts could probably buy a smart watch. Or a waterbed. Don’t worry, we aren’t having scotch fillet for brekky and spitting Dom Perignon at passers-by. We’re bums on the street. So don’t be jealous. If anything, have pity on us. Send us money and nice things, we’re roughing it for goodness sake.

So all going well we’ll post updates on the semi-reg. Apparently some parts of the Amazon don’t even have frickin’ wifi though, so if we don’t update for say a couple of days or 4 months then PRESUME THE WORST.

Okey dokes that’s it. Sit back and relax, this won’t hurt a bit.