G&B flee GB over land and sea

Ecuador - part 1

harrisg — Sun, 7 Jun 2009 01:50:00 GMT

After a long delay at Cusco airport and an interminable ten hour wait at Lima airport, we finally boarded our flight to Quito, Ecuador. Unfortunately our arranged pick-up wasn´t there, which we weren´t too thrilled about seeing as it was 3am and Quito has a bit of a reputation, but it was easy enough to get a cab to the Secret Garden Hostel.

We spent four days enjoying doing very little except wandering around the Old Town part of the city and generally relaxing. The couple that started the hostel in Quito also have one up in the mountains, near Cotopaxi Volcano, so we arranged to spend a couple of nights there as well.

The Secret Garden Cotopaxi is set in beautiful surroundings in the middle of nowhere and we stayed in a little private wooden cabaña, where the view from the bed went straight over big fields to the domineering, snow-capped volcano. In the communal area you could find, a big log fire, tasty homecooked meals and four great dogs. Whilst we were there, we climbed up to the 5000 metre mark on the volcano in some quite bad weather (actually I did about 4,900 and had enough but Ben managed to climb to see the snow line) which was the highest I have ever been. Fortunately, we turned down the horseriding excursion that some people we met went on, as a crazy bull scared their horses and one girl was thrown. Luckily, she was just a bit cut, bruised and shocked, but they were pretty upset that their tour leader abandoned them at the first sign of trouble and pegged it into the next field!

After Cotopaxi, we headed down to a town called Banos (which means 'bath' in Spanish) which is nestled in a valley underneath another volcano and is famous for it's naturally heated baths. One morning at our hotel, we signed oursleves up for a steam bath, which we assumed would be some sort of spa or jacuzzi. Instead we were shut into two wooden boxes with holes for the head, steamed like vegetables and systematically removed in order to wipe ourselves with freezing cold towels and, finally, to be hosed down with a icy pressure washer. It was unexpected, but quite refreshing. We also tried out the public hot pools, featured a pool over 40 degrees that was quite nice for a short while but made me rather dizzy when it came to standing up. There were some nice cold showers there too, with water straight from a neighbouring waterfall, which took a bit of bravery to get under.

The, it was back up to Quito for a couple of days before it was time to jump on a plane to the Galapagos islands.

Cusco and the Inca Trail

harrisg — Tue, 2 Jun 2009 07:47:00 GMT

Cusco is 3,500 km above sea level and a great place to prepare your body for the dizzy heights of the Inca Trail. We had allowed ourselves four days to acclimatise, which was just as well. By this time I had a really bad back and was wondering if I was going to be able to do it at all.

A seemingly knowledgable Peruvian GP believed I had done muscle damage over many months of bus journeys, bad beds and carrying a heavy bag. He prescribed me some painkillers and we hoped for the best. However, two days before we were due to start the trail, I got a bad tummy bug as well. At one point, we were eating dinner with a nice couple in a Cusco restaurant and I had to leave suddenly with strong fever shakes and a really stiff neck. A bit panicky, we called a another doctor to the hotel, who gave me two injections and a kaleidescope of tablets to take over the next few days. By the next night, my temperature was gone and I felt loads brighter - but then Ben seemed to have got the bug as well. Tougher than me, he dosed himself up with immodium and we packed our bags for the adventure.

At 5.45 in the morning, we left our hotel for the starting point, at 82 kilometres. The first day was, relatively, painless and we arrived at our campsite in Wayllabamba (3100m high) in the afternoon, where the incredible porters had already set up our tents and were preparing dinner. The local men who work as porters do a mindblowing job. They have to pack after you each day, carry (uo to 25kg each) all the tents, supplies and cooking equipment, and then overtake everyone on the trail (running past in just thin leather sandals) to get to the next eating spot or camping place. When they arrive, no doubt exhausted, they have to get to work putting up the tents and making the dinner for all the gringos who wander red-faced into the campo a while later. Sometimes, they do all this for the full four days, catch the train back to the start and begin all over again without a rest. Moreover, it seems they get paid very little for their services and rely almost solely on the tips they get from hikers at the end of each tour.

Day two is the notoriously tough one and sometimes people have to walk, or be stretchered, back to the start if they can't handle it. It involves four hours tough hiking uphill, mainly steps, to the aptly named Dead Woman´s Pass, which, at 4,200 metres high, is the highest point on the trail. I had been pretty worried that I wouldn´t be physically fit enough and the altitude would finish me off, but was thrilled when we both managed it, and in a perfectly respectable time. This slog is followed by two hours of knee-jarring descent down yet more steps, all before lunch. The feeling of elation when we got to the summit, and then to the campsite (Paqámayo - 3500m) made it all worth while and everyone spent most of the afternoon collapsed and sleeping in their tents.

Day three is a really long one and the day I found hardest. We were woken at 6am with the usual cup of hot coca tea and, after breakfast, walked until it got dark, reaching two high passes and stopping to explore a few smaller inca sites on the way. The final campsie is near a sit called Winay Wayna and is packed with hikers. There are hot showers here, which we didn´t bother as we´d come this far without washing (!) and cold beers for sale, which we did bother with.

The last morning starts with a 4am wake up and has you stumbling through the dark for a short time as part of the two hour climb to the famous Sun Gate. The end is a frantic scramble up some up the steepest steeps I have ever seen and then you are looking over the sensational view that takes in Maccu Picchu. One poor woman stumbled at this last stage, broke her wrist and had to be stretchered to hospital. Whether she ever actually saw Maccu Picchu, I don´t know.

The descent into the site takes about half an hour and you, the great unwashed, are then met by coachloads of clean, smiling tourists, fresh off the train. Unfortunately, by this time we were so exhausted that the tour of the ruins was somewhat clouded by the desperate need to lie down and sleep. As far as we were concerned, it was all about the trek and that first sighting, which was a really memorable experience. The scenery on the way was even more breathtaking than the uphill climbs and I definitely consider the Inca Trail to be a highlight of the whole trip. When it was all over, there was rather too much hanging around, waiting for the 6.30pm train, but the bed at the hotel when we finally arrived back in Cusco at 10pm that night was possibly the most satisfying bed ever.

Arequipa, Peru

harrisg — Tue, 26 May 2009 05:37:00 GMT

Even though it only felt like five minutes ago that we`d embarked from a plane, after two nights in Lima it was time to catch a flight to Arequipa, to begin our acclimatisation to being at altitude.

Arequipa is a beautiful little town, its colonial architecture immaculately maintained and its streets clean enough to eat off. It apparently suffers from the same opportunistic crime, particularly on tourists, that other Peru destinations do, but if you catch one of the million taxis milling around (they literally seem to be the only vehicles on the road) in the evening it seems the danger is reduced considerably. We felt pretty safe the whole time, but we weren´t one of the tourists walking around with a grand`s worth of camera equipment swinging round our necks!

Whilst there, we visited a fascinating museum featuring the 'ice mummy', Juanita. Juanita was a little girl found at the top of a volcano in the last decade. She had been a sacrifice to the gods during the Inca period, and the cold weather meant that she was really well preserved over the hundreds of years. She was there for all to see in a little freezer cabinet at the end of the museum tour.

Our hostel, The Point, was decent, except for the fact that the bed was soft (and my back was getting worse) and people liked to party very loudly, way after us old fogies had gone to bed...

This aside, Arequipa meant that Peru was fast becoming one of our favourite destinations.

Lima, Peru

harrisg — Sat, 23 May 2009 07:41:00 GMT

Getting from Auckland, New Zealand to Lima in Peru was an endurance test that even the most hardened marathon runner would have struggled with. It started with an eight hour overnight flight to LA. We then had ten hours to wait in LA for a flight to San Francisco. When we arrived in LA, our first plan was to arrange a day stay in the local Travelodge in order to get some sleep before the next flight, but the free shuttle pick-up never arrived. Then we realised we weren´t sure of the details of our next flight, so needed to find the right airline terminal or an internet cafe to print out the e-ticket. It was after a few false starts, a lot of walking with our bags on (I had started to develop a bad back by this time) and some tired exchanges, that Ben and I suddenly found ourselves separated in the biggest airport I have ever been to. Our attempts to find each other were fruitless and I began to panic as Ben had both our passports and all the money and I didn´t have a mobile phone.

After stumbling around with teary eyes, I eventually plumped for going to the arrivals hall where I had seen some public phones. Fortunately, I had a bank card and was able to get some cash out for a phone call. I had real trouble trying to work the phones, which kept eating my money and not connecting me, and then Ben didn´t answer his mobile. So, I had to do what every adult hopes they won´t need to do, and called my good old Mum and Dad and asked them to phone Ben and tell him where I was. Fortunately, this plan worked, and I was ecstatic to see Ben wandering into the building about 10 minutes later. Although very stressful, this dramatic interlude did kill about an hour of the ten hours we had to wait!

Finally we got our flight to SF (it was delayed) and we had to run to catch our connection to San Salvador in El Salvador, Central America. At this tiny airport we had another six or seven hours to wait until the final flight to Lima in Peru. We arrived, tired but pleased to be there, and were amazed that both our bags had made all the connections and that our lift to the hostel was waiting for us.

We had been scaring ourselves with the Lonely Planet about how dangerous Lima was going to be, but we spent our one day in the capital in Miraflores, the more upmarket part of town, which had a very visible police presence and felt pretty safe. Probably the scariest thing was the music they played in the empty nightclub that we found ourselves in with some other people from our hostel.

New Zealand North Island - Part 2

harrisg — Mon, 18 May 2009 06:48:00 GMT

Our penultimate stop in the campervan was Rotorua. A popular tourist spot, the town is, quite literally, a hotbed of geo-thermal activity. Clouds of steam billow from drains in the road and over people's garden fences and there is a lingering small of sulphur in the air. There are spurting geysers, bubbling mud pools and countless opportunities to soak your weary bones in naturally heated mineral baths - at a cost. Our caravan park was a little pricier than usual but included some relaxing thermal pools, which we sat in until our fingers turned wrinkly.

As we hadn't yet indulged in any of the adrenaline activities that NZ is famous for, we decided Rotorua would be the place. We had our hearts set on zorbing (rolling down in a hill strapped into a clear plastic ball) initially, but apparently it was too windy to run the option we wanted that day. Instead we opted for the 'Swoop' just down the road.

You basically get strapped into two sleeping bags and hoisted by a crane to a great height. You then pull a cord and hurtle towards the ground until the rope is taught enough to become a giant swing that speeds you along through the air, and back again, a few times. The first bit is a lot like a bungy jump and the photos of us in mid-drop convey quite well the horror of falling really fast. It was really good fun though, and we were glad that we got the chance to try it.

After a slightly more sedate walk through the pretty redwood forests, we stayed one more night in our thermal caravan park and then headed off towards Auckland, stopping at the Coromandel Peninsula to sleep in a campsite in the woods.

When we got to Auckland, it was time to say 'goodbye' to the campervan. It had served us well, but we dropped it off at its rental depot and got the train into the city. We decided to stay in the suburb of Ponsonby, a pretty area, with lots of cafes but a disappointing nightlife if you don´t like shiny wine bars. On the Saturday night, we wandered into the city and K Road, which is apparently the place for a good night out. We were starting to get disheartened, as there didn´t seem to be anyone out and about and the bars we passed were either playing host to bad live bands or cross-dressing cabaret performers. Then we stumbled across a small shopping arcade (I made a beeline for the second-hand clothes shops) and discovered a band playing upstairs, and a really nice small bar downstairs with a half-decent playlist. We ended up staying there for a good while and had our first proper night out since New Year´s Eve!

After a few days in the city, we hopped on a train to the small town of Clevedon, where Greg, my brother-in-law´s Mum and brother (and family) live. His Mum was incredibly hospitable and we had a lovely couple of days, seeing where they live and generally enjoying staying in a nice house with all mod-cons.

Then she kindly gave us a lift to the airport and it was the start of the hellish flight pattern which would eventually land us in Lima, Peru.

New Zealand North Island - Part 1

harrisg — Sat, 16 May 2009 11:08:00 GMT

We drove our campervan onto the ferry from Picton to Wellington bright and early. It took a few hours to cross the picturesque Malborough Sounds and then we were in the capital city of New Zealand.

A city that's not much bigger than Brighton, it didn't take us long to explore. We stayed a couple of nights in a caravan park (well, it was an expensive parking space on a tarmac carpark)a few kilometres out and took the bus in to treat ourselves to luxuries such as great coffee in a nice cafe and eating a kilo each of the local giant green mussels. As cities go, 'Welly' isn't exactly a pulsing metropolis, but it certainly had a lot more going for it than the most major town in the south, Christchurch.

After Wellington, we travelled several hours up the east coast to the town of Napier. An earthquake in 1931 completely flattened the town and surrounding area and nearly everything was rebuilt in the fashionable style of the time - Art Deco. A massive fan of this design era, I had been particularly excited about this part of the North Island and I wasn't disappointed.

The main town has an amazing collection of buildings, all in pristine condition. We took a self-guided walking tour around one of the suburbs, where local people live in streets full of houses that I would give my right arm for. Unfortunately, some residents obviously didn't fully appreciate their properties and felt that six foot corrugated iron fences and big boxy cement garages complemented their houses - sights which roused the dormant town planner in Ben.

Tongariro National Park was our next stop, via lunch at Lake Taupo. This national park is home to the volcano which features as Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings films, as well as several other impressive peaks.

We embarked on a full-day trek known as the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, which is 19km up mountains, across and round volcanic craters, and through forest. The blue sky and warm sunshine at the foot of the mountains was misleading because at 2000 metres high the rain came down in icy sidewinds and the visibility was pretty poor. This added to the already challenging ascent and descent of the summit, through unstable volcanic ash and stones, which apparently causes hikers to come a-cropper regularly. When wearing shorts in lashing rain became ridiculous, we tried to hide behind a big rock to change into our thermals. Hopefully other hikers were too concerned with their own progress to notice Ben and I standing in our undercrackers, shrouded in fog at the top of a volcano.

Nevertheless it was great experience at a difficulty we hadn't experienced before and we felt it was probably a good training exercise for the impending Inca Trail.

New Zealand South Island - Part 3

harrisg — Sat, 16 May 2009 10:45:00 GMT

Abel Tasman National Park, at the tip of the South Island, is like a tropical island. You can only reach the outer limits by car and the rest has to be navigated on foot or by water taxi.

It comprises of a series of gorgeous sandy beaches with calm, aquamarine seas, fringing dense green forest. Many people trek the whole coastline over a few days, but we settled for a couple of nights camping, a coastal day walk (cut short by high tide), and a dip in the beautiful but unbelievably cold sea - it was autumn!

This was a lovely way to end this half of our New Zealand adventure and from here we made our way to the port town of Picton for the ferry to the other island.

New Zealand South Island - Part 2

harrisg — Sat, 9 May 2009 05:39:00 GMT

The weather took a turn for the worst as we headed north again, to the tourist hub of Queenstown. The rain was pretty relentless for the couple of days we were there. Last time I had been to Queenstown, we had wanted to do The Luge down this mountain-side but hadn´t because the weather was too bad. You get a gondola (cable car) up to the top and then can go down some of the way on a type of go-cart. On the last morning that Ben and I had in the town, it hadn't started raining yet, so we decided to give The Luge a go. The clouds were closing in fast, and by the time the gondola was half way up the hill, it was raining quite hard. Not to be put off again, we put our raincoats on and caught the soaking wet chairlift to the start of the downhill tracks. It was quite fun, and doing it in the pouring rain was amusing, but I probably would have enjoyed it more if it hadn´t been so cold I couldn´t feel my hands...

So, soaking wet but laughing, we drove off to the West Coast and the Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers. The usual road to the Fox Glacier was closed, due to flooding, and the alternative one was apparently too narrow for campervans, so we parked up (Van) Morrison and made the long walk to the start of the trail through the forest to a lookout. The trail involved crossing several creeks and the heavy rain meant that they were significantly swollen and racing down at quite a pace. At one point, there was no choice but to remove your shoes and socks and wade through the icy (this was right by a glacier) water. It was quite scary as you weren't sure just how strong the current was and how deep the water was that you were stepping into. We were followed closely after by a portly gent in his late 60s, whom we were a bit worried about but who seemed to have no problem crossing the creeks. However, on the way back from viewing the glacier, we thought we'd better retrace our steps a little just to make sure he had made it across the streams a second time. Fortunately he had, and we stayed close with him as we walked back to the car park. This was lucky, as although he had had no problems navigating fast water, on dry land he suddenly lost his footing and came hurtling down the narrow path behind us and fell heavily off the trail and backwards into the undergrowth by the side. I don't know how he didn't hurt himself seriously, but Ben and I were the only other ones on the trail at the time and he wouldn't have been able to get back on his feet without us. He kindly gave us a lift back to our campervan, and we vowed that we would always keep an eye out for lone hikers when out walking in the future.

After visiting the Franz Joseph Glacier (both fascinating to see) as well, we travelled north again and made our way steadily to the Abel Tasman National Park, via the pretty town of Hokitika, hoping for a bit of sunny relief from the drizzly West Coast.

New Zealand South Island part 1

harrisg — Sat, 2 May 2009 08:58:00 GMT

There was quite a significant drop in temperature from Brisbane to Christchurch in New Zealand, and the grey sky was very reminiscent of our own sunny country. After spending a night in quite a nice hostel, we stayed a couple of days with a kiwi girl that used to work with Ben in Shoreham. We really didn't think a lot to Christchurch as a city, but it was nice to rest up for a few days and not to have to share a kitchen and bathroom with about twenty other people.

The joy of a private bathroom was continued(sort of)with our super deluxe campervan. The big white box on wheels wasn't quite what we had had in mind and Ben was a little concerned about the maneouvrability of the beast, but it turned out to be the cheapest of all the deals and quite a bargain with petrol consumption. The 'bathroom' was basically a cupboard with a chemical toilet and a shower attachment, but when you needed the loo in the middle of the night it was worth its weight in gold.

Our first port of call was the beautiful blue Lake Tekapo, where we did our first bit of 'freedom' camping down by the water's edge. Then it was onto Mount Cook (via incredible views from Lake Pukake), the tallest peak in New zealnd, surrounded by other towering mountains with glaciers climbing down from their summits. The is a tiny alpine village there and a great campsite from which to do several walks taking in the spectacular scenery.

Next was Dunedin, a fairly nondescript city full of students in the South. From here we visited the Otago Peninsula, famed for its wildlife. Although we didn´t see the yellow-eyed penguins we hid and waited for, we were very lucky to stumble across two massive, fat sea-lions asleep in the middle of a beach. They can apparently move very fast and be quite aggressive, so we were careful to tiptoe around them, speaking only in whispers.

Dense rainforest and lovely windy beaches come together at the Catlins National Park, at the very south of the country, about as close to Antartica as you can get. As you can imagine, we were in for some chilly nights in the campervan, prompting us to invest in some thermal tops and leggings at the next town. We looked quite special in our matching outfits as we dressed for bed the following night, but they were certainly a good investment when it came to warmth.

Sydney and the Gold Coast

harrisg — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 14:45:00 GMT

After an overnight bus journey from Melbourne, we arrived in Sydney bright and early and checked into a backpackers. We were starting to get really weary of hostel life at this stage (at the last one we stayed at in Melbourne we shared a room with a strange man who slept on top of his covers in small red pants, and were serenaded at 2am by some bozo doing animal noises) but this one was reasonably painless.

We covered off the main tourist attractions in a couple of days: Sydney Opera House, Bondi Beach, ferry to Manly, which were all pretty good (in fact I found the Opera House more impressive than the last time I saw it) and hired a car to travel into the Blue Mountains, about an hour away from the city.

We stayed in the town of Katoomba in a hotel/hostel which was stuck in the Christmas of 1972. The decor had never been updated and the Christmas decorations never taken down. It's possible that the washing up liquid bottle (refilled with soapy water when it ran out)and the tea towel in the kitchen had been there a similarly long time. In our room there was a classy framed illustration of a girl with her nipples poking out. The best bit was the room labelled as the 'Games Room' which didn't actually have one game in it, except for a dart board which had been mostly destroyed (probably in 1972).

Nevertheless it was well located close to the 'Three Sisters' rocks and some really good walks down the mountains and through the rainforest. The views were beautiful, with the blue mist floating on the horizon earning the area its name. We accidentally wandered off our 'moderate' walking track and onto a 'hard' one, which became obvious after a lot of puffing and panting and painful thighs. It was a good workout though.

A highlight of Australia, we really enjoyed the secenery (and the cream tea) for a few days and headed back to the city to get another overnight bus up the East Coast.

We were staying in Noosa, a lovely little seaside town just North of Brisbane. My friend Mags' parents have moved there and we were staying a night with them. It didn't take too much to see why they had chosen to spend their retirement in that area.

Then it was down to Brisbane for a few nights and onto a plane to carry us away from Oz and onto New Zealand.

Melbourne and around

harrisg — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 15:26:00 GMT

After flying into Melbourne we joined my parents in a lovely serviced apartment in the city centre for a spot of luxury. We spent a very enjoyable (but wet) few days exploring some of the sights of Melbourne and the surrounding area, catching up with my parents who were on holiday in Australia at the same time. It had been a long time since we'd even had our own bathroom, and the one in our apartment had a big jacuzzi bath, so we were most grateful for such comfortable accommodation.

When Mum and Dad headed off down the Great Ocean Road, we got a lift to a town called Geelong, just outside Melbourne. We had been kindly invited to stay with a couple we met in India , who took us around some of the Victoria coastline and to their beachhouse.

Afterwards, we hired a small car and drove down the Great Ocean Road ourselves. The scenery was stunning, but the predominantly grey weather and relentless drizzle took the shine off a little.

Then it was back to Melbourne for another night, when we cemented our affinity with the city, its laid back charm and tucked-away spots of individuality.

West Coast - Part 2

harrisg — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 16:06:00 GMT

The furthest North we travelled was a tiny town called Coral Bay. The small collection of buildings by the beach are all, in some way, there to meet the basic needs of visitors to the beautiful bay.

The main attraction, apart from the glorious sunshine, warm dusty sand and clear aquamarine sea, is the Ningaloo Reef. The West Coast's answer to the Great Barrier Reef, the bonus here is that you simply have to swim out a few metres with your snorkel and you are at the outer layer of coral. Tropical fish, turtles and rays are just a few flipper kicks away, and if you stand still in knee deep water, massive snapper fish swim right up to investigate your legs.

Ben's giant beard and moustache were a bit of a problem when it came to the snorkel hire. "You might have to put a bitof vaseline on that fur, mate," The guy told him, "Or the mask won't seal properly". Ben didn't, but only suffered minor water seepage. We did both, however, burn our backs a bright crimson colour on our first day in the water, despite factor 40 suncream.

The next morning, donning protective T-shirts, we went on an organised snorkel trip to further out on the reef. The guide pointedsome things of interest out as we swam and I was very excited to see two reef sharks and a big turtle.

After a few relaxing days, we bundled back into the cab of the van and headed back South again to Kalbarri National Park. The inland gorges of the park were out of bounds for our campervan so we settled for a dawn walk on the coastal gorges, where the small bays and fiery red rocks were deserted apart from us - and a little kangaroo.

This was our last major stop on the coast so we returned back to Perth over a couple of days to drop off our first mobile-home and take a flight to Melbourne.

West Coast - Part 1

harrisg — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 11:54:00 GMT

The first stop heading North from Perth was a little town called Cervantes, the nearest place to Nambung National Park, home to the famous 'Pinnacles'. The Pinnacles are loads of limestone columns on a sandy plain, which were originally formed underground and have gradually become exposed by the elements.

We arrived at sunrise and walked the 3km track as the morning light cast long shadows across the sand. There were very few people around and it felt a bit like walking on the terrain of some new planet.

After that we headed up to Geraldton, a town of little note, except for yet another lovely beach. We did treat ourselves to some fish and chips and a film, though, and were quite amused to be only two of four people in the whole cinema on a Thursday night.

The next stretch of road was where it all got a bit hairy. We'd been driving for a couple of hours, when suddenly all the lights on the dashboard came on simultaneously. Not too sure what this meant, we pulled over to the side of the road to decide what to do. Unfortunately mobile reception just doesn't happen on those long empty roads and we were miles away from any town. We tried to stop the one passerby that came in a space of about half an hour, but they just drove on.

Crossing our fingers, we chose to carry on to the next roadhouse, as the van would start at this stage. Much farther than it appeared on the map, we finally pulled in, stopped, drove onto the petrol forecourt...and couldn't start the engine again. Coincidentally, another smaller van with two German girls driving in the opposite direction pulled in a few minutes after us describing the same problem!

After phoning our '24 hour roadside assistance' who were unable to provide any assistance as we were in the middle of nowhere (helpful), the roadhouse owner kindly gave both us and the other girls a battery charge which seemed to do the trick in getting the van started. The lights were all still on, but we needed to get moving so headed off up the next 200km of road to the next town.

We knew at this stage that Ben had to keep driving without stopping or we may never start the van again. Some other drivers were broken down by the side of the road and, even though we were probably the first vehicle to pass for ages, this time we had to be the ones to fly on by without stopping.

Then the clock on the radio went dead, shortly followed by the speedometer, which dropped to 0km/hr. Ben had to have the accelerator permanently to the floor as the van was strating to pull backwards heavily. We were still a long way from our destination, Carnarvon, and it was nearing sunset, so we just had to power on. By this point I was gripping the dashboard muttering 'please, please...'

Magically we reached the turning for the town and Ben did his best to take the sharp corner without slowing too much. By some miracle, we made it to a residential street before the engine died again. At least now we were in relative civilisation and an RAC man came and told us our alternator was gone and gave us a battery boost to get us to a caravan park.

Carnarvon is a hot, humid small town with a problem of drunken violence and a whole lot of nasty insects flying around, so we weren't too thrilled when it looked like we might be grounded there until Monday (we arrived Friday night). However, after a few phonecalls in the morning a knight in shining ute showed up. A local mechanic who fitted all the stereotypes of the typical Aussie bloke drove up, took away our alternator and came back with it fixed half an hour later.

We were greatly relieved to be back on the road and headed off North again, hoping the van would behave itself for the rest of the trip.

South Western Australia

harrisg — Sat, 4 Apr 2009 11:58:00 GMT

We flew into Perth on the West Coast of Australia and spent the first couple of nights in backpacker dorms, whilst establishing that it was a pretty bland city. So, we secured ourselves a hired campervan and made a swift exit. Well, actually we had to wait about five hours for the company to finish cleaning the van before we could drive away, so it wasn't that swift...

It became evident in our first campsite in Fremantle (just South of Perth) that the battery powering the fridge, lights etc. had seen better days. A morning of phonecalls, driving around town, and a trip to 'Beaurepaires', Australia's answer to Quik-Fit, and we had a new battery, which seemed to last marginally longer.

Before heading off down to the picturesque South-West, we spent a night in Mundaring National Mark, about an hour inland of Perth. It was here we did our first bush-walk, with Ben perfecting the 'spider-hand' defence. This involves walking with arm in front, palm forward, in order to encounter any potential webs with hand before face. Any meeting of face and web would result in both us squealing like little girls and checking each other for poisonous arachnids.

This was also our first night camping alone in a relatively out-of-the-way spot. Quite idyllic at sunset, with a wonderful moment when two big kangaroos jumped past, by nightfall we started remembering too many horror films and slept with the pen-knife at the ready!

South West Australia is lush and green and a prolific wine-making region. We had a brilliant time exploring 'tall timber country' and visiting the most South-Westerly point of the country where the Indian Ocean meets the Southern Ocean. The coast is just littered with gorgeous beaches, some a bit breezy to swim on, but all with beautiful golden sand and clear blue sea. Topped off with a couple of wine tastings, it was 10 days well spent.

Siem Reap

harrisg — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 12:45:00 GMT

We travelled on to Siem Reap, a touristy but lively little town with a lot of great places to eat. Everyone is there for the same thing - the ancient temples of Angkor - and they don't disappoint.

At 5am in pitch black we were picked up by our tuk-tuk driver and taken to the most famous of all the temples, Angkor Wat. We stumbled through the darkness, following other people's torch beams and entered the huge site. The excitement was intensified as it was impossible to see anything but vague shapes. It was a bit like being led to a nice surprise whilst blindfolded.

Slowly the sun came up and the greatly-photographed towers of the temple became clearer. In the soft sunlight of the early morning, we left everybody by the banks of the lake trying to get the perfect photo and expored the ancient building, practically on our own. A fantastic start to the day, we rounded it off with an overpriced breakfast in the grounds and then hopped back into our ride to the next destination, the temples of Angkor Thom.

A road lined with stone figures leads up to the entrance of Angkor Thom, where there is an incredible archway with four giant human faces in the rock. This theme is continued in main temple inside, which is mostly ruins but looks impressive with it's many pillars of stone faces, staring off in all directions.

Next was the temple apparently made famous in the film Tomb Raider. The jungle has been gradually reclaiming its space and giant roots swallow up the walls like oversized octupus tentacles. The effect is definitely worth seeing.

We also visited the devastating Killing Fields, where a lot of the people who were at the prison in Phnom Penh were murdered. Needless to say, another sobering sight - particularly the memorial tower which is filled to roof with skulls.

On a lighter note, we spent the next few days in the town relaxing and enjoying the local food, particularly the fish in coconut leaves dish 'Amok'. We made the most of the cheaper prices, as Australia was just around the corner and we knew that the cost was going to be a shock.

Phnom Penh

harrisg — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 10:50:00 GMT

The beginning of our time in Cambodia was a disaster. We arrived at our hotel as arranged by the tour company, described as the 'Sinh Cafe Hotel' by all who worked there.

After checking in we took a tuk-tuk into town (of course our 'free' night's accommodation was far from central). The driver tried to secure a return fare from us but we declined, sure that we'd have no problem getting back to the hotel later on in another tuk-tuk. So, after our meal we started asking around and no-one had ever heard of the hotel. We were pretty sure we knew what number the road was (they are numbered and not named) and so got taken there, only to discover that we didn't recognise the hotel on the street anywhere.

We walked up and down the long road and down neighbouring streets and the first stirrings of panic began to set in. After having no luck looking on the internet for an address, we started to ask people at other hotels, people in shops - anyone - but no-one had a clue, despite really wanting to help.

Whilst standing outside one hotel, asking another group of people, a guy on a motorbike pulled up and joined in, then announced that he knew where to go. Relieved, we both squeezed on to his motorbike, where it quickly becomes evident that he was as clueless as everyone else. We pulled up numerous times and asked yet more people (it was about Midnight by now) and drove around for hours after several red herrings.

Eventually we gave up and, with only a pocket full of cash on us (passports and everything else where at the lost hotel) we found accommodation that was still open at that time and got a horrible, low ceilinged tomb to sleep in. After a burst of hysteria from me, we lay down for a very restless night and rose at 6am to go and look again in the daylight.

We made our way back to to the area we were sure was right and pounded the pavement for hours. I was sporadically bursting into tears at this stage and Ben was swearing a lot. Even phoning the tour company was a complete loss and we were beginning to face the possibility that we were never going to get our stuff back.

Then, we decided to walk back along a street that we had been halfway down the previous night. We passed the point we had already been and suddenly I heard a voice saying 'Sinh Cafe Hotel?' - we were right outside! I could have kissed all the staff there and then.

Turns out, they have only recently started calling it by that name which would explain why no-one knew it.

After this debarcle, we moved to more central accommodation at the 'Top Banana' guesthouse where we had a room with two double beds and a flight of stairs that led to a brick wall, but at least we knew where it was...

During our time in the city we visited the incredibly tragic but morbidly fascinating Genocide museum. A local school had been turned into a prison during the Khmer Rouge rule in Cambodia and thousands of people were tortured and murdered there. You need a strong stomach for the museum, and the sadness stays with you for a long time, but it is a well put together and informative museum. By chance, we were visiting on the same day as an elderly gentleman who was one of only 17 people who had actually survived the prison. It was hard to believe that you were looking at someone who had endured such atrocities, and in relatively recent history as well.

Ho Chi Minh and the Mekong Delta

harrisg — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 16:35:00 GMT

The bus to Ho Chi Minh (formerly Saigon) was, thankfully, uneventful and we arrived, found a room and had just enough time to arrange a 3 day tour through the Mekong Delta for the next day.

We were getting the boat across the border to Cambodia so we chose the tour which included the crossing and a trip up the Mekong to finish in Phnom Penh.

The tour was pleasant, with highlights including a leisurely punt through the narrow waterways of the Delta, tropical fruit tasting, coconut candy sweets (often the food is a major factor in enjoyment!) and a small rowboat complete with cheeky Vietnamese child.

The 'slowboat' to Cambodia lived up to its name and we arrived early evening at a hotel in Phnom Penh arranged by the tour operator, Sinh Cafe, unaware of the problems that this 'Sinh Cafe Hotel' was gong to cause us.

Quy Nhon and Dalat

harrisg — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 17:20:00 GMT

There's really nothing to say about the town of Quy Nhon, except that we shouldn't have bothered going there.

In an attempt to get off the tourist trail, we plumped for the apparently up-and-coming beach resort. After being the only ones dropped off by coach, in the middle of the night, it started to become obvious why it wasn't exactly on the map. It was bland and soul-less and the only hostel-type accommodation charged a fortune in their cafe. You couldn't even swim in the sea. To make matters worse, it was approaching Tet, the Buddhist lunar New Year celebration, and most places were closed. We didn't get hassled by touts though, and everyone was genuinely very smiley and friendly!

So we booked a bus into Dalat in the Central Highlands, which apparently took seven hours, leaving at 5pm, so arriving at about Midnight. We booked a hotel in Dalat, phoned ahead to warn them we would be late, and headed to the bus station.

Asking around the bus station, we were directed to three different buses until we realised that our 'high quality' a/c tourist bus was actually a clapped out grey minivan. We were travelling with two drivers, who did the drive in two shifts, and one Vietnamese couple.

The journey was fairly hellish, with the drivers never telling us when we were stopping for a comfort break and, at one point, chilling out at some random local restaurant for about an hour and a half even though we were way behind schedule. Although everyone else in Vietnam seems to know that there is a new, quick road into Dalat, obviously these guys didn't - or simply loved going down interminably long, dark mountain roads ridden with pot holes.

So, ten hours later, we arrive at Dalat at 3am. This is fine for the Vietnamese couple who, speaking the same language as the drivers, managed to get a detour to their front door. For us though, we had to be content with a lonely, deserted, bus station in a town we had never been to before.

'Hotel? Taxi?' I asked the drivers, hoping they might at least point us in the right direction, at which point they shrugged and turned their backs on us. Fortunately, we came across a couple of guys with motorbikes who were able to take us to our hotel. Just as we pulled up, however, Ben realises that we are one bag short. The 'plug bag' (with all our chargers and plugs in) has been left back at the bus station.

We tried to explain this to the motorbikers but they had no knowledge of English whatsoever. As I launched into an elaborate piece of street theatre, where I picked up one of rucksacks, left it on the pavement and mimed riding a motorbike away from it, several other Vietnamese guys joined us on the side of the road to try and help. Eventually someone understood and, rather than me stand alone on the street with the rucksacks, we decided that I should go back and get the bag.

When I got to the bus station, the bag wasn't where we thought we left it so I had to go back to the bus we came in, with one of the nice motorbikers helping me, and knock on the window. I definitely felt a moment of karma as we woke the two sleeping drivers up. The best thing was, it turned it out I hadn't really needed to as the bag was on the ground behind the van.

So I headed back to where Ben and the group of Vietnamese men were waiting. We picked up our bags and walked down the road where (unsurprisingly, now it was about 4.30am) our hotel was all locked up and dark. Resigned to the fact that we would be sleeping on our bags outside until the morning, we were thrilled when half an hour later the sister of the hotel owner came past and helped us get in.

After a disastrous start, the hotel was great, with a big buffet breakfast included every morning. We explored Dalat and the surrounding area on the back of more motorbikes, with a couple of 'Easy Riders', which is what the local tour guys on old Harleys call themselves. Whizzing through the mountains of the central highlands just about made up for the journey there!

Hoi An

harrisg — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 17:08:00 GMT

Hoi An reminded me a lot of lovely Luang Prabang in Laos. The old town is a collection of pretty, narrow streets with colourful old French buildings. There are nice cafes and bustling markets and a million places to get hand-made clothes.

We hired bikes one morning and cycled around the streets and over the river, which we thoroughly enjoyed. The best bit about it was that you could whizz past all the people hassling you for your business. This was really the only thing we didn't like about the town (except for our hotel room with water coming through the ceiling!) as there were agressive touts everywhere again and a lot of hiking up of prices when a tourist tries to buy anything. It was a shame, but we weren't getting much of the 'friendly' vibe that the Vietnamese are well-known for as it seems as though business is the loudest language on the tourist trail. Still, everyone has the right to make money, so...

Hue

harrisg — Fri, 6 Feb 2009 20:58:00 GMT

From Hanoi, we caught the overnight train to Hue(pronounced 'Hway')on the central coast of Vietnam. On 'soft sleeper' benches which were quite comfortable, it was a fairly pleasant journey. We shared our cabin with a nice Canadian couple. The guy was a hip-hop producer and had worked with a few of the names in Ben's record collection so they had a bit to chat about.

We awoke to some amazing scenery rolling past the train window. Lush rice paddy field after lush rice paddy field came into view, presided over by domineering mountain ranges. A devestating amount of tombs and gravestones peppered the hillsideas as a reminder of the country's tragic history.

Hue, the capital of Vietnam from 1802 to 1945, is a Unesco World Heritage site, consisting mainly of a crumbling citadel (a moated, walled city) built by an emperor back in 1804. The town works well as a big museum, with some interesting buildings, although a lot more lost to bombs from the Americans.

The downside is that its history attracts an awful lot of visitors and everyone that works there is desperate to cash in on it. You are harrassed at every turn and some people don't even pretend to be friendly to extract money from you. It's not threatening or anything - you never feel like anyone would rob you - just increasingly annoying.

We mistakenly took a 3 dollar boat ride down the Perfume River to see some emperors' tombs, and were subject to a series of aggressive selling tactics and scams the whole day. We probably should have seen it coming, as the trip was so cheap, but nevertheless it added to our growing dislike of organised tours.