Mogsie's Wanderings

Caledonia's Calling . . .

mogsie08-09 — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 11:30:00 GMT

From Victoria I caught a bus up to Swartz Bay and took the ferry across to Salt Spring Island to visit Claire, who I'd first met with her friend Joy way back in Australia when we'd all shared many a laugh together while in Broome. I'd not managed to see Joy when I was in Melbourne but it was good to be able to catch up with Claire on her home turf. Salt Spring is a nice wee island and on a Saturday there's a great market in the town of Ganges which we went down to. Picking up another friend, Andrew, on the way it was just about 15 minutes drive from the house (a wooden place nestled amongst the trees and with great views out over the sea and some of the other neighbouring gulf islands, and with deer regularly visiting it was, for me, an idyllic setting) into town. We arrived just as the market was opening and stalls were being set up around the park. We sat on a bench overlooking the grassy square and enjoyed a lovely locally roasted cup of coffee and big sticky cinnamon bun - the perfect breakfast! I then enjoyed wandering the market and round the little town. The market was quite busy even early as it was and there was a good mix of produce and crafts. All stallholders must live on the island and all goods sold must be produced on it too, which I think are excellent conditions to impose. I enjoyed several samples of local cheeses, mustards and jams aswell as some baking, and admired some of the handicrafts on offer. There must be many talented people on the island and its great that there is an outlet such as the weekly market to sell their wares. It certainly seems to have a good reputation and people regularly travel from both Vancouver Island and even the mainland to visit. From the market I drank in the tranquil view out over the bay where there were a few little yachts and dinghies moored before continuing my exploration of the town. It has attractive shops, wide streets and plenty of open space. There seemed to be a good mix of cafes bakeries, grocery stores, galleries, book and gift shops and all the people I met were friendly whether it was shop workers, stallholders or just other people in the street. Its certainly an easy place to like.

Meeting up with Claire again she took me for a spin round the north of the island. It really appealed to me. There is lots of forestation, little market farms, sheltered bays and greenery and it was quiet, homely and familiar feeling. Back at the house I admired the Arbutus trees we'd seen earlier and which surround her property. The only native boadleaf evergreen in British Columbia, the tree has a red flaky bark which peels to leave a fantastic smooth copper like trunk which glistens in the sunlight. This in turn then peels to leave a smooth silky soft pale green trunk which will turn red again after the rains. There are also delicate yellow flowers making it a continuously attractive tree, and not unlike some of the Australian eucalyptus trees in many ways. Later, out meandering along a creekside trail amongst the super trees and hilly banks, the sunlight picked out the numerous shades of green while the creek burbled and the birds sang overhead and I made my way down to Beddis Beach to enjoy the scenery some more. Neighbouring ex-pat Scots, Rosalind and Fraser, came for dinner and we had some fantastic succulent and meaty crabs which we'd got from one of the boats at the dock earlier in the day. Our evening of chat, teasing, laughs and story telling was rounded off with ice-cream, Rosalind's homemade cookies, local rhubarb and some excellent home produced Maple syrup from Claire's family's farm in Ontario. I can savour the flavours yet!

Up early next morning for an overnight jaunt to the west of Vancouver Island, we had only reached the bottom of the hill when we found a large box sitting in the middle of the road. Going to tidy it away we discovered 9 unopened cans of beer in it so they were duly rescued and put in the boot for later! It was to prove the first of a succession of free food and drink we were to obtain over the weekend. On our way again we caught the ferry from Vesuvius to Crofton. I was interested to see that the little ro-ro has no bow or stern doors, just some orange hi-viz mesh tape to pull across the deck entrances. I doubted Calmac would get away with that! Anyway, safely across to Crofton which is adorned with lots of murals depicting life in the area over the years, making a good social history lesson, we carried on taking the highway past Nanaimo towards the west. We paused at Cathedral Grove which is a reserve of giant tall and straight Douglas Firs, Western Hemlock, Cedars and a whole variety of ground level plants. A whole range of shades of green, there were also many windblown trees left to act as host nurseries for saplings and other plants, living stumps, huge root balls, and on some the cut-outs on the tree stumps where lumberjacks had wedged their platforms above the hardened area where roots join into the main trunk were clearly evident. It was a great place to stretch the legs. Then, with the road becoming more twisting and undulating as we crossed the island we finally reached the western coast and stopped at Long Beach. Living up to its name it stretches the 40km or so from Tofino to Ucluelet. A mess of huge bleached trunks and logs are washed into a mass by the tides and winds and create a barrier between beach and forrest. The water crashed gentlyish onto the sandy foreshore and dozens of crabshells and strings of seaweed and kelp littered the beach. Needless to say I had great fun reverting to childhood and jumping on the weed's air sacks and scuffling about on the huge planks and logs. The sun was out and the air was soft making for a great walk along the coast - though most certainly not the whole way! On reaching Tofino (by car!) we'd a stroll round the town and admired the lovely views over the bay to the hills before checking into the hostel. A rummage through the free food bin there produced a couple of tatties some carrots and lettuce, so after baking the tatties and making up a good salad with our lunchtime leftovers and the other ingredients we went back to the beach and had a great picnic tea washed down with our free beer from the morning - no bad at all for nothing!

Raking the free food box again in the morning we got enough bread for our toast before going to visit the plush Wikaninish Inn just out of town. Its a high class hotel nestled into the woods directly overlooking Long beach so has some fantastic views over the ocean and, although the building itself is a dull grey weatherboard type construction, the interior is amazingly tastefully decorated with magnificent wood carvings, solid wood doors, marble tables,figurines and the like all paying homage to local wildlife and first nations people. Its a work of art in itself and thankfully the staff are quite happy to accommodate backpackers just in for a nosey! We even managed to cadge a free cup of coffee there to add to our ever growing tally of free food and drink. Moving on again we had a quick jaunt down to the pretty but functional little town of Ucluelet before starting to make our way back to Salt Spring. En route we called in to visit friends only to find Dorcy having just finished hot-smoking a salmon and Joan having baked a rhubarb pie so we enjoyed more free food! By the time we got back to the island at night (after a visit to the butcher's and some tasting samples) we reckoned we must definitely qualify as acomplished Freegans (and, no, Freegan is not just a modern PC name for greedy beggars, just those who appreciate good food which may otherwise go to waste!) and were certainly not hungry in the slightest!!

Leaving Salt Spring Island I travelled back down to Victoria for a short visit and enjoyed meeting up with Isobel and Allan Oliver again. We had a nice time blethering in the evening, and once again I was captivated by the lovely view across the bay to the distant Olympus Mountains from their front windows. I had a stroll round the town the next day before I had to catch the ferry across to Vancouver.

I was staying with Janet's brother Hugh and he was a great tour guide for my short stay. His knowledge of plants, birds and wildlife was a real bonus on our wanders round the wonderful Stanley Park. We took the seawall path which provided attractive views across the harbour and bays as the morning haar lifted but the smell drifting across from the bright yellow piles of sulphur was less appealing. We took a small detour up a creekside path and the sunlight coming through the trees was beautiful. There were lots of berry bushes and we managed to pick some salmon berries to taste. They looked like a cross between pale raspberries and brambles but the taste was a bit blander than that. Further on on our walk we visited the rhododendron garden and although most were just past their best there was one particularly spectacular bush with bright red flowers. After a pause at one of the beaches we took a little boat across to Granville Island. It has a great produce and crafts market and lots of little speciality shops so made for a very pleasant afternoon of browsing and admiring. An evening visit up Burrard mountain to the campus of the Simon Fraser University allowed brilliant views out over the city and surroundings, nice landscaped grounds and some wooden sculptures presented by a Japanese sister city to Vancouver. The carved totem-like poles depicted gods and peoples of the Japanese indigenous culture and I was interested that the creatures of bears, whales, owls and eagles seem to come up time and time again as key features of indigenous culture all across the world whether that be fist nation Canadians, Japanese, New Zealand Maoris, Russian buryats or many others. Just as in modern life and customs, there may be many differences on the surface but at the core there is a common thread running across the world. If only more people could appreciate the similarities between us all perhaps there'd be fewer tensions across the globe.

My last port of call before leaving Vancouver was at the small but interesting Museum of Anthropology. Alongside a collection of intricately carved totem poles were a number of amazing and huge feast dishes used at first nation potlaches. A potlach is a kind of fiesta and feast for social gatherings and celebrations where hundreds of people may arrive to visit, eat and buy items for sale: a kind of cross between a party and a boot sale I think! The potlach dishes were enormous and were carved and painted to resemble animals. Also of interest to me were bentwood boxes. Carved from one piece of timber, gouges would be channelled out to make seams. The red cedar wood was then steamed until it was plyable enough to be folded up and stitched closed with sinew. Once complete they could be used as sturdy containers for storing food, liquids or possesions. The craftsmanship involved was really impressive. There were also a couple of temporary exhibitions which I found slightly less interesting but overall I thouroughly enjoyed my visit and it was a great place to round off my visit to western Canada.

I may have been sorry to have to leave Vancouver so soon, but I was also excited to be heading to Winnipeg and the bus ride across the country passed quickly considering the distance between the two cities. It certainly didn't feel like thirty odd hours before we were crossing our last section of the praries and pulling into town. John was at the bus station to meet me and we were soon rolling up to Renfrew Street. It was funny seeing mum and dad again - to me it only seemed like 5 minutes since I'd waved goodbye but they seemed to think it was longer ago than that! Marj and Hank looked well too and it was brilliant for us all to be together again. In no time the blethers and catching up of everyone's news started and that kind of set the tone for the next few days. We had excellent weather, wonderful company, good food, nice sightseeing jaunts, and just an all round funtastic few days. Thanks Marj and Hank for your super hospitality and thanks John for your excellent tour guiding and chaufeur services. I'll look forward to a spin in the Model A next time I visit but hope to see you across here again before then!

Winnipeg is an attractive city and it was great to spend time there again. There are many nice monuments and statues but I particularly enjoyed seeing the collection of decorated polar bears which roam the city. Some were very cleverly designed and one with a cub poking out its bright jacket was a favourite for me. I was a nice link to, and reminder of, my last visit and John and I's trip up to Churchill to see the real McCoy.

Adding to my list of parliament and legislative buildings I've visited on my wanderings we visited the Manitoba Legislative Building too. Its the largest outside Ottawa and although its relatively modern it is an impressive piece of architecture with columns, grand staircase, polished marble, ornate domed ceiling, carvings on the sandy coloured stone and all topped off by a towering 17 foot high 'Golden Boy' casting a bright light over the place. My favourite visitor attraction though was definitely our visit to Lower Fort Garry. Constructed in the 1840's the fort was not a military post but a vital trading centre for the Hudson's Bay Company. Agricultural and industrial areas provided goods and supplies for the northern fur traders, receiving pelts and other goods in return. Today the limestone walls have, where necessary, been restored to provide and outer boundary to the complex of buildings within. Even before reaching the main fort buildings we passed an old York boat of the type used so frequently for transporting goods across the country. Also present were the farm managers house and guest cottage both decorated in the style of the times complete with furniture fittings and crockery. A teepee and smithy stood nearby and in all these places guides were dressed in authentic period costume and explained about their work, craft and lifestyle as if still in that era. An old general store and fur loft, retail store, warehouse, doctor's office, mens quarters and 'big' house completed the ensemble. It was fascinating to learn so much about the lifestyles of the company's employees and to be able to imagine the hive of activity the fort would have been. Back in the teepee it was interesting to learn that about 15 people could sleep in it yet it would be erected by just two women in around one hour: 3 poles (about 30 feet long) would be bound together on the ground then hoisted upright, 10 other poles were slowly spiked into the frame and bound in by the rope connected to the original tripod. Finally the last pole, to which the sailcloth was attached, was slotted in and the fabric unwrapped over the frame and tied with bone or sticks to seal the edge. The clever design meant the whole thing required the women to reach no higher than head height yet was stable, sturdy and warm. Trees have been known to fall on such a teepee without crushing it. The engineering and design awareness of previous generations with far less technology than in present day never fails to impress me.

Having enjoyed my visit to Lower Fort garry I was interested to compare it with Fort Gibraltar which was a reconstruction of a wooden North-West Trading Company fort dating from 1815. My visit to it was just as memorable. Although much smaller than Fort Garry there were guides in period costume and character here too, so once again the place came to life. We got into conversation with one guy who explained a great deal of the history of the fort, the North West company, the competition with the Hudson's Bay Company, the relationships between the native peoples and the settlers, the feuding between Lord Selkirk (an HBC bigwig) and Mackenzie (a NWTC man) and the merger of the two companies just a year after their deaths, aswell as associated stories and anecdotes regarding various TV series about the era. It really brought history to life for me and left me wanting to read far more about the period and the major players, so that's another thing now added to my 'must do' list!

Rounding off my visit to Winnipeg the six of us went out on my last evening for a meal at a buffet style restaurant. Surprising no-one, I'm sure, we all managed to make excellent use of the delicious eat as much as you can/want feast. The range of salads and soups for starters seemed never ending, then, for mains there were two types of spare ribs, roast pork, chilli, pasta and numerous vegetable and potato dishes alongside for you to visit as often as you wanted. If you still had space after all that there were several cup-cakes, cheese cake, gateaux, trifle, fresh fruits and ice-creams!! While we all managed extremely generous helpings and there was much leg-pulling about our repeated visits to the buffet, none of us had to stretch out on the bench seats clutching our stomach between visits like the woman at the table behind us did!! Definitley a case of her eyes being bigger than her belly!

With very mixed emotions I left Winnipeg: it's always exciting moving on to a new place, and going to Ottawa was no exception, but I'd been enjoying myself so much over the past year and I new that the capital would be the last stop on my wanderings (well, these ones anyway) before returning to Scotland. The bus journey there was uneventful and like so many others before it passed quicker than you might imagine. When I arrived I went to catch the city bus into the centre but promptly jumped on the bus going in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go! I think that was the first time I'd done that but just goes to prove you shouldn't get blase about arriving in new places! Fortunately the bus driver was on the ball and directed me round the corner to the bus stop I should have used and I was soon safely esconsed in my hostel!

The next couple of days were spent touring round the beautiful and very likeable city. We managed a fair bit of walking, a boat trip on the river, a hop-on-hop-off bus tour round the city highlights, and a visit to the houses of parliament. There are many attractive buildings, parks and pleasant walking paths along the canal, locks and riverside in the lovely city, and so coupled with the warm sunny weather we enjoyed you would have been hard pushed not to have had a great time. The undoubted highlight for me however was a visit to the wonderful Museum of Civilisation. It's the type of place where you could go back again and again and probably still not see it all or remember half of what you learn. Our visit also happened to coincide with Aboriginal day and so there were some additional displays and shows being staged over the weekend. We stopped at a demonstration of traditional dancing and were enthralled by the performers. First on stage were three dancers performing some Metis Jigs and they were excellent: the footwork was so fast, and as they pointed out there were elements of Scottish, Irish and French dance incorporated into their steps resultant from the historic influence of the culture brought by the settlers from these countries. The stage floor was well polished and they did well to keep their feet - especially considering the speed they were going. They performed a 'standard' jig a friendship come 'pick-up' dance, a belt dance (it was very similar to a Scottish sword dance) and a very impressive broom dance. Next on stage were a far more sedate couple of dancers acting out a narrated story but following them was a woman doing a hoop dance. She was amazing. Like the first group her movements were non-stop and incorporated at least a dozen hoops which although now plastic would traditionally have been willow. her agility to pick them up with her feet, twirl them round and over her body and arms, individually or in a bunch, was incredible. She could form them into spheres, twist, spin, juggle and so on. It was just mesmerising. Next on stage was a guy fully bedecked in traditional shin and feather decorations who danced to some traditional drum based tunes then invited the audience up to join him in a Friendship dance. It was a kind of cross between a circle dance, the conga and Auld Lang Syne! The final performance was far more modern and contemporary but not so much to my taste. It was almost Innuit hip-hop and although the lyrics of his first piece were ok the backing track diminished the power of the poetry in its own right. (Though what credibility I have as an arts critic is highly debatable!!) Leaving our hip-hop wannabe performing to those prepared to give him more of a chance, we moved along the hall and stopped to speak to a guy demonstrating birchbark carving. He had examples of some of his work and boxes and model canoe on display. Speaking to him he showed us how strong the bark can be and how to recognise a good piece for working with. Then, as he explained about the spruce resin used to waterseal the canoes' seams and needle holes he mentioned how he had previously helped Ray Mears to build a canoe and was going to be meeting up again soon for a future programme. I mentioned I'd seen the programme and enjoyed it so he then etched a little picture onto a piece of bark for me as a souvenir. Moving on once more the rest of my time at the museum was largely spent in the halls of First nation history, tools, clothes, carvings and culture. Even the lighting to the displays was atmospheric and subtle background noise appropriate to the theme of each display added to the effects and kept me hooked to try to see and learn more, but as I alluded to earlier there was far more info than I could possibly hope to take in at one visit. Trying not to overload my wee brain with too much on one topic I moved to the section on post-confederated Canada. It was well done too, taking you from east to west across the country moving from one province or territory to the next. The sets were again outstanding with shops, homes, railway stations, timber processors, airport and streets being recreated. Particularly impressive was the French quarter where the illusion of twilight sky was so realistic I did a double and triple take to reassure me that it was a replica and not that I'd spent too long in the museum! Finally, however, I knew that I'd seen more than I could do justice to so left and headed back into downtown Ottawa.

Before I knew it my visit to Ottawa, Canada and the Wider World was at an end and somewhat reluctantly I had to make my way out to the airport and catch a plane back to the UK. In no time at all I was checked in for my flight, through security, and boarding the 757 for Gatwick. I'd been hoping to sleep on board but thanks to turbulence over the maritimes, then drinks being sold before our evening meal was served, there was only about three hours before I was being woken for breakfast just prior to our descent into London. Safely landed it felt decidedly odd to be back in Britain - a bit like it was another foreign country really. Waiting at baggage reclaim it took ages for my bag to appear on the conveyor belt. I was just thinking how ironic it was that I could make it safely round the globe without losing anything only to be stumped in London when it trundled through at last - I'm sure it must have been the last item of luggage unloaded!

My bus back to Scotland wasn't until nighttime but I had a very pleasant wander round Covent Garden Markets and then St James Park. London as a city is not my favourite in the world but I have to hand it to them they do have some beautiful parks. It was lovely to enjoy the plants, pond, birdlife and people watching as I reaclimatised to being back in the UK. It was then out for a catch up with the 'London branch' of the Cormacks and a lovely evening with Randy, Janet and Aistair. It was great to see you again guys and I hope its not so long until I see you again. From their's it didn't take long to get to the bus station and once aboard I slept all the way North until we were approaching Edinburgh. I have had an absolute ball over the last year and have seen some wonderful places and met some great people along the way. Scotland will always be home for me though and I had a wee smile to myself as I headed to the airport to meet mum and dad (they were arriving back in Edinburgh that morning too). Ian was there to collect us (thank you) and we were all soon back in Glenrothes.

My wings may have been clipped for the time being but the last year has certainly given me the bug for further travelling - its so easy and enjoyable to wander aimlessly and carefree and anyone who even half fancies the idea should just bite the bullet and do it - its great fun. Far from shortening the list of places and things I'd like to see it has increased it! I've learnt of new places to go, there are the places I'd hoped to reach but never got to this time round and there are all the places I want to revisit (almost all of them!). I may have to make do with shorter trips in the future but I'm sure my itchy feet will take me there eventually. . . watch this space!!

Hello Uncle Sam

mogsie08-09 — Fri, 5 Jun 2009 21:26:00 GMT

After a slightly bumpy but otherwise reasonable flight north I landed and was "de-planed" (the announcers annoying phrase not mine!) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, early in the morning. With the day to wait before my onward connection I tried to find something to do... not an easy task apparently. After fruitlessly searching three of the four terminals for information I finally found a friendly member of staff who suggested a visit to a local shopping mall, so a shopping trip it was. I was just window shopping but it passed the time and as I was returning to the airport there was a tremendous thunder and lightening storm which provided a bit more entertainment.

Back at the airport I was finally able to get my next flight and continue to Las Vegas. It was bumpy most of the way and the incredible thunder and lightening storms continued to play out alongside so I didn't sleep much and was pretty tired by the time we landed. I was amused by the banks of bandit machines which greeted you as soon as you entered the terminal building - Vegas really lives up (or down) to its reputation! I caught a bus to "The Strip" and spent some time having a wander up and down to see the sights. It was a real buzz of activity with the bright neon lights, noise from the busy bars and casinos aplenty. Barack Obama was visiting the same day as me but he didn't appear to be frequenting any of the casinos I poked my head into, I guess he was being entertained in Caesar's Palace! Vegas was amazing to see but a short visit was enough for me, and not tempted to gamble away the last of my travelling budget, despite the lure of hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions, in potential prize jackpots, I made my way down to the Greyhound station to await my bus to Flagstaff. I was soon to discover that US bus stations, like the buses themselves, are the worst of any I've travelled so far. A bit sterile and unwelcoming, not particularly comfortable places, manned by gruff looking security patrols and with authoritarian tannoy messages blurted out periodically it was a long wait until the bus was due. Finally on board the crowded bus even I suffered from limited legroom so heaven help taller people, but by that time I was so tired it didn't take long before I fell asleep despite the cramped conditions. I was joined by a guy from NZ, but now based in Dubai, who was a bit of a character and we had a good few laughs over the course of the journey at the expense of the driver and a woman in one of the front seats who managed to talk non-stop about nothing at all from beginning to end rarely drawing breath or listening to each other! A bit unkind of us perhaps but it was fun and it helped pass the time as we rolled through the vast desert.

When I got to Flagstaff I liked what I found. It's not a huge place, with about 60,000 people, but has a friendly small town atmosphere to it making it feel even more compact. There are a number of attractive heritage buildings around the centre and with Route 66 and a busy railway line running through the middle of town it was a pleasant place to wander and spend time. The hostel was quite nice too and with plenty people travelling Route 66 and/or there to visit the Grand Canyon there was a good mix of folk. On my first night in particular there was a nice crowd in the hostel and we passed the evening quickly as we chatted, laughed and enjoyed some pizza and red wine. If time hadn't been running short on me as the end of my trip approaches I could easily have spent longer in the area. My main reason for visiting the area though was to see the Grand Canyon and I certainly wasn't disappointed by what I saw. Even the run out there from Flagstaff was nice: it was a bright clear morning and the wide empty road crossed green fields and grass floored woodland and the mountains still had little pockets of snow clinging to the tops. Arriving in the national park I got out the bus and with little in the way of signage to suggest which direction to go I wandered through a souvenir shop and as I came out the other side I found myself looking straight into the vast beautiful expanse that is the Grand Canyon! It is incredibly deep and an amazing array of sheer rock faces, intertwining valleys, rocky stacks, caves and overhangs. The colours are amazing too: deep red sandstone, bright light limestone, dark black rocks and also quite a lot of greenery either clinging to the canyon walls or edging the rim with cactus, potentillas, wild flowers and pine trees. I stared out just mesmermised by it all. Its a real mass of rock and valley and stretched off to the east, west and straight ahead to the other side of the canyon. When I say other side it maybe gives the impression of a clearly defined chasm but thats not really the case, complete as it is with indents and side valleys. It is so deep too that its generally impossible to see the valley floor. Over the course of the day I walked various sections of the rim and once or twice I could make out the wide river below but that was an exception and even then it looked more like a little muddy trickle rather than the wide river it is. Taking one of the shuttle buses, which constantly run back and forth throughout the canyon area, I went along to Yaki Point. As I sat there drinking in the landscape a couple of Californian Condors soared overhead adding to the spectacle. From there I walked along the rimside trail as it followed the edge sometimes closely sometimes set back a little through the surrounding bush. It was just lovely, and even when a few peels of thunder rang out, the black clouds raced in and the heavens opened it was still attractive. I took another bus, this time in the opposite direction and got out at Hopi Point. By the time I got there it was dry again but the black clouds and rain mists hung within the canyon, and, being lit by the twinkle of the reemerging sun it made for a very dramatic picture. The path at that point was unsealed, narrower and rougher than in some other sections so it was also quieter and I enjoyed the walk along to Mohave Point where I finally had to leave in order to return to the centre in time to catch my bus back to Flagstaff. It was a great day in an incredible environment. If I had had more time to play with I would have loved to go back to the canyon and hike down into the valley, or head to Sedona to visit the incredible red rocks and hiking trails around there, but, with travelling time now rapidly running out I had a schedule to stick to and had to catch the bus to San Francisco.

The buses in USA were mostly completely full and heading to San Franciso was no exception. Another irritating trait is stopping in the middle of the night for a driver change: unlike in other countries here you have to get off and reboard, and generally the stops come when you're in your deepest sleep and would like to remain like that for a few more hours! Nevertheless we made it safe and sound with only the crossing of Los Angeles providing much of a diversion from the endless multilane highways. LA itself was busy and grey and the famous Hollywood sign was only just visible in the gloom, and it was a bit surreal driving past the famous street and area names such as Santa Monica Boulevard, Hollywood, Burbank and so on. When we finally arrived in SF, however, I really enjoyed my time in the city. The place has a bit of character to it. Virtually all of the buildings have some degree of cornicing, bay windows and or colour washing to them making them quite attractive and not seeming like endless streets of exact replicas. Also, with the city being built on a series of hills you go up and down whichever direction you walk so the views are always changing. It was while climbing yet another of these hills that it donned on me what effect the altitude must have been having on me in La Paz, though I didn't appreciate it at the time. There I would always be peching by the time I got to the top of a hill, but climbing a similar incline in SF I was fine. I had a really enjoyable time wandering the city whether it be around different neigbourhoods, up and down the "crookedest street in the world" (famous from so many movies the tight zig-zag bends are edged by hedges half hiding the cars on it and almost making them look as if they're totally enclosed), through little gardens, along the pleasant harbourside walkway and attraction packed 'Pier 39', or in large parks and reserves. Much of the time the weather remained disappointingly overcast but on one day while I was visiting Golden Gate Park and the De Young Art Museum the sun broke through and it turned into a lovely bright day. While I didn't find a lot to my taste inside the building, the angular structure itself was a bit more interesting. Very modern in style it's clad in hammered copper, has a hanging corridor seemingly balanced in the air and a tall observation tower providing a lookout point across the city and ocean. With the sun coming out it reflected off the copper making it sparkle enticingly. It was while up in the tower that I could see that the Golden Gate bridge was no longer hiding in the mist either so I decided to walk down to have a closer look at one of the city's most famous landmarks. Leaving the park I headed off down main avenue in that general direction. I figured it should be a pretty straight road with just a slight deviation onto another path not too far from the bridge. Hmm, well, lets just say it didn't quite work out like that! All was fine until I reached the point to deviate off the main road. As I skirted round a local neighbourhood park to join up with my next path I must have got slightly disorientated and after a while I realised I must have been walking roughly at right angles to the direction I should have been. However, once again it was a pleasant area and after altering course again I landed at the entrance to the Presidio, another huge reserve of parkland, and a sign indicating a hiking trail to the Golden Gate bridge. As I followed it it took me through some lovely forest paths in complete peace and through lovely areas of ivy and wild flowers. In a clearing amongst the woods was a striking sculpture called "The Spire" which was constructed from a few huge tree old trunks. As the path wound on and on I thought I'd never reach the bridge. It was a lovely walk but at the same time it was taking ages, time was marching on, and I wanted to get a decent view before the light faded or the mists rolled in again. Just as I began to think I'd been really daft not to have hopped on one of the many buses which had passed me earlier I finally reached Crissy field. It was an air base back in the 1920s and 30s, is now being redeveloped into a nature reserve, is a super wide open space and provided me with a good view of the iconic bridge. It was great to finally be able to tick it off my list of places I'd wanted to see, but if I'm honest the Bay Bridge closer to the city centre is a more impressive piece of architecture in my eyes! Fortified after a visit to a cafe there I started back into the city along the bayside trail. It was yet another lovely walk between the shore and marshy ponds and the bog-liking and salt loving greyish leafed plants which accompanied it. As I got closer to the centre and back beside the busier roads I marvelled at some of the grand houses and their amazing views over the ocean. Some had huge picture windows looking over the water and I couldn't help but think their window cleaners bill to keep them so sparkling must surely equate to some people's mortgages! Needless to say I was pretty shattered by the time I finally got back to the hostel but it had been worth the miles of walking.

A visit to Alcatraz had been another of my 'must dos' for the city and while the prison is much smaller than I'd envisaged it was an interesting visit. The ferry ride across only takes about 10 minutes and on disembarking a park ranger gave a little spiel about the island itself. A short film then plays giving a brief history of the place from its initial use as a military fort guarding the bay in case of wartime attack, to the high security prison, its prisoners and the correction officers and families who stayed there, then, after the prison was closed, the occupation of the site by the Indians trying to highlight the decades of their misrepresantation and mistreatment of their land by succesive governments. After watching it I entered the prison proper where audio guides were provided and led you round from area to area telling the stories of some of the more famous inmates, various escape attempts, and general conditions and regulations. It was intersting and amazing to see the tiny cells in which the men were kept and to look at the gun corridors overlooking the cells and think of the guards patrolling there. The cells were three tiers high but there were only four rows of them and only about 200 men were in there at a time. Completing the complex was a large and apparently well used library hall, dining hall, tiny visitors wall, then just the wardens office, admin block and contol room. I enjoyed the interesting commentaries and although the building is now empty and benign it wasn't too difficult to imagine the atmosphere of tension, anger and resentment which would have once permeated.

With San Francico added to my list of cities I'd be happy to revisit I once again was on the move and heading towards Seattle. I was interested to watch as the landscape got greener and more wooded again as we headed north. Washington would certainly seem to live up to its licence plate claim to be 'The Evergreen State'. By the time I reached Seattle I was back into hot sunny weather so I checked into my hostel (which turned out to be comfy and really handily located - a real bonus as I'd struggled a bit to find one at all) and got washed and changed as quickly as I could in order to enjoy what was left of the day. After a quick circuit round the centre of the city on one of the free town bus services the friendly and helpful bus driver suggested I visit the sculpture park, and so I got dropped off at the appropriate stop. I never did go in to it though as I was lured by the charms of the adjoining Myrtle Edwards Park. On such a lovely day it was fantastic: a boardwalk was edged by lovely planting and bushes as it hugged the clear waters of Puget Sound. There were a few logs floating in the sea and at the reclaimed and re-established Pocket Beach a little sandy bay was adorned with many more sunbleached old logs making a perfect resting place amongst the rocks. The bay has been cleaned up in recent years, apparently, with kelp beds established to encourage fish back to the area. On the other side of the path a nice grassy area had several little trees dotted along it and benches to allow you to sit in the shade and enjoy the views and quiet despite the proximity to the city centre. There was a little rose garden coming from the variety of blooms and also several little beds of seapinks and minature conifers. I kept walking along enjoying the sun, warmth, the lapping water, pretty landscaping and darting swallows until I reached a grain pier at the end of the park. Much of the grain arrives by train and just then a great long trained pulled in reminding me of the huge horn honking processions in Flagstaff (they seem to start sounding their horns at one side of town and don't stop until they're leaving the other side so there is no chance of ignoring them!). With time going on I turned back and got to the hostel just in time for the free spaghetti dinner on offer. I expected a very basic affair but it turned out to be a huge and tasty spread. Alongside the pasta there was a meat and a veggie bolognese, a mixed vegetable medley, platters of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and garlic bread and a big bowl of parmesan cheese. Needless to say it was a popular offer so the place was buzzing with people blethering making for an enjoyable night. As if we hadn't eaten enough the night before a complimentary breakfast was provided too: bowls of orange segments, pineapple pieces and chunks of banana; bread and spreads, jugs of pancake batter for you to cook as you wanted, eggs for scrambling and the ubiquitous pots of coffee. All in all there was no way anyone would go hungry at "The Green Turtle"! Afterwards, with only a morning left for Seattle, I went across the road to the Pike Street Markets and had a great time browsing round the stalls and little shops. There was an incredible array of fish, flowers, fruit, jams and pickles, cheeses and local craftwork. It was a busy and colourful sight and there were lots of sampling opportunities to be had (as if I hadn't had more than enough to eat at breakfast!).

Time passed quickly and before I new it it was time to catch the ferry to Canada. Despite dire warnings on board of potentially rough seas it was a super flat crossing and I was entertained by a group of 5 ladies of a certain age who were sat at the table behind giggling and laughing infectiously as they planned their girls' week away. Then came their realisation that they had bought pounds of necterines and cherries at the markets but you can't take fruit across the border into Canada! You can, I'm sure, just imagine the hilarity that followed as they tried to munch their way through as much of it as possible, all the while trying to work out if and how they could smuggle the rest into the country!! When we did dock in Victoria my luggage was soon unloaded and I was quickly stamped through immigration. My only slight disappointment was that with only Canadian officials present in Victoria I wasn't able to get an official US exit stamp in my passport to complete my now sizeable collection, but, hey-ho you can't have everything. It was, however, a very strange feeling knowing that I had finally reached the last country on my itinerary.

No Sign of Paddington

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 25 May 2009 22:57:00 GMT

I could hardly believe that my arrival in Puno, in Peru, heralded my last country in South America and my seventeenth country of this trip! It wasn´t a particularly inspiring town but it did allow me to go out to visit some more of the islands on Lake Titicaca.

Leaving on the slow boat from Puno the water was green with thick weed and algae but as we got further out into the bay it got clearer and bluer. Considering how calm the water was we rolled around a bit - boat design doesn´t seem to be the strong point of life on the lake. It was a pretty sail though and although there were not many birds around I did see a couple of steamer ducks racing across the water. After about an hour we reached the floating Uros Islands. Constructed entirely from Totora reeds, a floating bed of the roots about 1-2 metres thick acts as the foundation then more reeds are laid on top for another metre or two providing a soft springy floor. Reed houses are then built on that floor and hey presto the island is complete. A new island takes about a year to build (there are about 50 of them in total of varying sizes) and will last for about 25-30 years with continual topping up of the reed floor base until the whole structure gets too unstable. It was very interesting to see and although we were on a small island of just 8 or 9 families some of the islands are much bigger and include a school and medical centre aswell. Traditionally the Uros people were fishers and hunters of birds but tourism has become a big part of their culture. It was, I guess, pretty commercialised really with wares set out all around the island for us to examine and purchase, but at the same time it was fascinating and at least people do still live on the island maintaining the majority of the traditions and customs. There was also a traditional reed boat on hand to ferry you across to a second island. It was fantastically graceful and peaceful as we punted along. Nowadays little dinghys with small outboards are more common, or even plastic bottle filled tubes of nylon tarpaulin bound with twine to create a basic raft, but it was nice to enjoy the traditional craft. The reeds used for islands and boats can be harvested year round from the 36000km2 national park area and take only a few days when stacked to dry out suffciently for using. The young shoots can also be used as a calcium and iron rich food. Tasting it it was quite pleasant - a kind of cross between sugar cane and piñones!

When we left the Uros islands we chugged for another couple of hours across the flat blue lake to Amantani Island. In the tiny harbour the engine was cut and we were punted round to dockside where on disembarking we were met by a number of traditionally dressed women in their flared layered skirts, decorated blouses and shawls. These were our hosts for the night, and divided into groups of various sizes, dependant on how many people they could accommodate, we set off to their homes. I was with a Swiss couple and we climbed up the little hillside, across little fields to our family´s mud brick property. Our room was up an extremely rickety wooden ladder and though basic was quite comfy. A little outside toilet sat at the edge of the garden area where much of their crops are grown. A little barn, reminiscent of the Bayfield tattie shed, acted as kitchen and eating space. We were served a nice meal of Quinoa soup followed by grilled cheese with tomatoes, potatoes and Oka - a local type of potatoey veg which looked a bit like gnarly purple fingers but tasted like a cross beween potato and chestnuts. Later we all met up in the village square to walk up the long steadily climbing path to the sacred inca temple of Pachatata which sits atop the island at a height of about 4100m. I was glad to be a bit acclimatised to the altitude by now as it was a fair trek up past some of the terraces used for growing crops. Some of the stone walls bounding the fields were almost like lacework there were so many gaps between the stones - it was certainly a far cry from our dry-stane dykes! Finally we reached the top with the intention of enjoying the sunset but it was not a very spectacular setting sun. Nevertheless there were some nice views over he island and down the lake to the mountains and altiplano beyond. It got really chilly as the light faded so it was good to go back downhill and meet up with our hosts again for tea. Afterwards we were all dressed in traditional garb before heading to the village hall for a fiesta. With my short green flared skirt, multicoloured waistband, embroidered white shirt and long rainbow coloured floppy cap I looked like a cross between wee willie winkie, a colour blind little red riding hood, and an old fashioned milk maid!! The only saving grace was that everyone else was similarly attired. Over the next couple of hours the four piece band played traditional music and we danced the night away - a bit like having a Peruvian ceilidh! By the time we´d danced the night away with all our finery on I most certainly wasn´t cold, but I was extremely glad I had fresh batteries in my torch for the walk back to the house and to climb the stairs to my room!! It had been both an interesting and fun day and nice to explore two very different island ways of life despite their relatively close proximity to each other.

Next day it was across to my third island, Isla Taquili. At the tiny little harbour there was a stone path which worked its way up the hillside giving more nice views over the lake and terracing. Talquili seemed much greener than Amantani with more in the way of flowers as well as crops and grass. The men on the island are fanatical knitters, famous for their hats, and anyone I met walking down the hill was knitting at the same time. Later I was to learn that the islanders live very closely by the 3 main inca laws of: Don´t steal; Don´t be lazy, and Don´t Lie. Taking the don´t be lazy law very literally they are always doing something, never idle, and don´t even have llamas or mules to carry their goods uphill, opting to do everything themselves instead. Finally reaching the village there was a nice arched entrance to the square. The square itself was rather bare however with just a few old and well-worn buildings. The exception was the the very modern looking town hall which looked a bit out of place. After a bit of a wander, which didn´t take long, I sat people watching for a while, then it was off to lunch and to get an explanation of the symbology behind the hats worn by he men: A part white hat dictates a single man, whereas without the white he is married. A community leader wears a brown trilby type hat. For single guys if the hat flops to the left he has no girlfriend, but to the right he has! Women wear a black shawl with pom-poms, small ones for a single woman, larger for a married lady. Its a bizarre arrangement in many ways but interestng that the customs remain despite the ever increasing number of tourists coming to the island, which previously survived solely by knittng and crofting. I wonder how long it will be before western influences see the traditions dying out. Already they are losing the younsters to the mainland once they finish school. Later it was back down a long set of very uneven stone steps to a picturesque little harbour at the bottom to which our boat had travelled round while we visited the island. As we headed back across the lake to Puno the engines were cut out a couple of times while our driver pottered about with the engines from a cupboard at the back of the boat. I´m not sure what he was doing as it made no noticable difference to our slow chug back to town. Boat travel is definitely a leisurely affair on Lake Titicaca - like life in general really!

I was pleasantly surprised by Cusco when I reached it. Its a lovely city with lots of Inca architecture remaining and in the centre in particular the beautiful old buildings all seem to have terracota roof tiling which, given the hilly layout of the town, makes it seem blanketed by a warm dusky orange as you look out over it. It was also very fortunate that the town is likable and nice to wander round and through because I was to discover a rail strike and road blockades over trhe nexr few days were to prevent me doing and seeing everything in the surrounding area which I would have liked! For instance I´d have liked to do some trekking but if I went I might not have been able to get back in time to do anything else in Peru. As a result I spent my first day in town running round between train ticket offices, bus offices and tour agencies trying to work out some sort of itinerary for myself! Unable to trek or take the regular train route to Machu Pichhu, but not coming all this way to miss out altogether, I ended up going by a bit of a convoluted route which turned into an experience all of its own. Heading out by minibus we drove through the farming orientated landscape and green hills, then steeper mountains, until the little town of Ollyantambo. It´s a quaint little town of narrow cobbled streets, uneven houses and a busy little square overlooked by tiered inca ruins. With no time to explore further we set out again and climbed up a long series of hairpin bends. The countryside was like a yellowy-green patchwork quilt below us as we continued up passed cactus plants complete with red apple like fruits and heavy with dust from the road. After climbimg amd climbing we evemtually crested the pass and atarted to descend again. By this time we were in patchy but thick mist and I couldn´t decide whether or not that was a good thing: on the one hand it meant there was no view to enjoy, but on the other hand it hid the alarmingly sheer and enormous drops at the roadside from sight! When you could see anything you looked down hundreds of feet onto the trees futher down the valley, patches of the road were strewn with boulders and rocks which had fallen from the crumbling hillsides requiring a bit of weaving about to avoid them, and at some of the corners the rivers of water came flooding across the bends requiring us to slowly ford the the fast flowing water. Up til this point the road had been sealed but it gave way to ripio and we rumbled on past little homesteads and small villages in the middle of seemingly nothing, and all the time huge leaved plants and cactus comtinued to line the roadside. At Santa Maria we turned onto an even rougher narrower track and the very single track road twisted along the hillside with no protection from the drop at the side which must have been hundreds of metres in places! The dusty road was omly just wide enough for one vehicle and with hairpin bend after hairpin bend the horn was used aplenty to herald our presence. I´m so glad we only met a couple of other cars, and at a point where there was just room to allow us to squeeze passed each other as I really did not fancy having to reverse in the tiny space we had available on our perilously high track. I was never so thankful as when we slowly began to descend a little agin and reached the wee town of Santa Teresa! From there it wasn´t too much further along the narrow tracks above the river below, and across perilously fragile looking bridges where the wooden planks were almost nailed together so the rumbled like a train, but were still so narrow you couldn´t see the edges from the car, before we reached the little train stop at Idroelectrica - much to my relief. There were several little tarpaulin sided stalls lining the old rail line where a train was waiting for the surprisingly large number of people arriving for it. Some like me by bus but many having trekked and cycled along some of the jungle trails to get there. It set out through the jungley growth on a series of very noisy clanking zig-zags until we came to a stop. Moving again we managed to leave some wagons behind so had to go back for them!! Restarted we continued through the trees until stoppimg once more. We sat and sat and sat for about 45 minutes before the engine which had left us returned and we carried on to Aguas Calientes the village nearest Machu Picchu. Purely by random chance I found the guy with my hostel booking (not having got a name for him or it before leaving) and after a fine tea of grilled Alpaca I was happy to call it a night in readiness for an early start in the morning. Getting the first bus in the morning it took about half an hour up a series of switchbacks through the trees to get to the site entrance of Machu Picchu. There was already a short queue waiting to enter but joining it we were soon allowed in and I went straight up to the gatekeepers hut and got a wonderful panorama looking across most of the site. It really is impressive - a huge site in its own right and with Huayna Picchu mountain looming over the corner it adds to the atmosphere. It was a clear morning and the sun was just appearing oner the surrounding densely forrested mountaintops making a truly wonderful scene. I found my way over to the Ceremonial Tock where I met up with our guide. With his limited English and typical laid back attitude it wasn´t a fantastic tour of the ruins but it did provide a flavour of the place, teach me a little bit more about the Inca lifestyles, and by listening in to some of the other guides I was able to fill in some of the blanks. The rock where we started was huge and was where llamas would be sacrificed to ther gods on ceremonial occasions. Other areas we visited included some of the agricultural areas, the temples of the moon, sun and condor. It has a huge carving of the Condor forming two halfs of a doorway with the head inlaid on the floor. We saw where mummies were displayed for worship, rowers and fountains, amazing stonework including one section where the difference in styles between the "upper class" and the peasants areas was clearly seen: for the royals the stonework was much more exact and had absolutely no gaps at all whereas it was lass precise for the peasants. The incas basically had three tiered class structure" the specials, the locals and the messengers. The locals were not allowed to look at the specials so there is a window room where sound can be amplified through the cut out windows allowing communication between the classes. The condor was revered for its size and grace and ability to soar close to the sun and the puma and vicuña were the most respected land animals. All three can be seen depicted on many featyures and carvings. At the astronomical observatory there was further evidence of the academic awareness and abilities of the incas. The time dfial is set at 13degrees, the same latitude as the site and perfectly positioned so that the rising sun indicated the seasonal solstices. All in all the buildings are just incredibly complete, and with llamas still cavorting round the place it didn´t take too much imagination to think of it when it was full of people amd messengers would be running back and forward transporting goods, people and animals or messages to the other cities in the area, such as Cusco. Apparently MP is even laid out in the shape of a condor bu I struggled to see that. I was only sloghtly disappointed not to be able to have time to climb Huaynu Picchu because there so much to see and wander round in the complex and such amazing views anyway that it didn´t really matter. When the time came to leave I caught the bus back down the hill to Aguas Calientes and with the daylight I was able to appreciate how sheer the mountain sides are above the town - it having been dark the previous night and in the morning preventing me fully appreciating the location. The town itself is also quite pretty for a tourist cemtre with the river´s white water tumbling through the centre and the railway line beside it. After a bit of a browse it was time to catch the train back to Idroelectrica and to start the return journey to Cusco on the road from hell. I fluctuated between trying to convince myself it wouldn´t be so bad as I remembered on the way in and trying to reason with myself that it would be horrendous and just to be prepared. In the end it was just as bad going back! By the time we reached the comparative safety of Santa Maria I had very sweaty hands and damp fingerprints on the knees of my trousers where I´d been clenching them as I leant and pointed them into the hillside as if that´d save us if we started to slide!! Definitely not a road for the fainthearted! Back on the right side of the valley it was then back along the rough roads and through the villages until starting to climb back over the mountains. The rain then started aswell, and as we climbed up and up the twisting hairpins in the dark and wet I was a little concerned at times that the silence and hypnotic effect of the rain would send the driver to sleep too and we go tumbling back down to the valley floor way below. I really wish sometimes that I hadn´t inherited mum´s sometimes overly vivid imagination! I´m really not a good passenger in difficult conditions - too alert and concious of potential dangers. Really beginning to feel the driver was getting drowsy I was happy when he swapped with his newly reawakened pal. The pal drove exceedingly slowly however and after only a short time they swapped back. The break had done him good though and we safely made it back to a short stop in Ollantaytambo. By the time we reached Urumbaba however there was a police checkpoint in operation with all vehicles being stopped for routine checks. At that point we discovered our driver had no documentation, licence or insurance information with him and so the van was impounded and we weren´t allowed to go any further! The fact that his mate had nothing either further heightened my suspicions from his earlier efforts that he wasn´t actually a fully qualified driver! After hanging around for a while with no sign of a replacement driver or vehicle and our "drivers" disappearing into the night we were stranded. Then, one of the policemen called over another legitimate van driver and arranged that he´d take us back to Cusco. And so after going to fetch our new driver´s wife to accompany him on his trip, we finally set off and raced the last hour and a half back to Cusco. A real adventure of a couple of days in so many different ways, but worth it overall for the amazing sight that is Machu Picchu!

Back in Cuso with nothing worse than a sore throat and a bit of a cold to show for my adventures I enjoyed a couple more days around the city. Still unable to get out to the Sacred Valley I made do with a visit to some of the inca sites close to the city. Qorancha Cathedral was originally an Inca temple but was built over, around, and partly demolished when the Spanish arrived bringing catholocism to the area. An earthequake reexposed some of the exteernal walls in the 50´s and inside there are still plenty of signs of its previous form. Its now an unusual mix with perfect angular inca walls complete with perfect cut-outs for hinges and locks, square cut windows and fantastically ornate ceilings, rendered walls, extravagent oil paintings of christian religious themes, remnants of inca monuments and so on. There is one super painting of the milky way highlighting the animals central to the inca culture, and one depicting all the elements important to them: sun , moon, puma, people, condor, farming etc. The latter picture was in gilt and very striking indeed. Leaving the cathedral and its manicured little grounds it was up to Saqsahuaman. This enormous fortress is in an archaelogical park just outside the city. Massive, and constructed in intricate tiered stonework, each layer gradually decreasing in size, there are three separate gateways leading into the fort and along the walls you can see how the stones have been cleverly laid to include the outlines of animals such as the cuy, condor, serpent, llama and so on. Entering the fort there was a great view out over Cusco below. The city was originally planned in the shape of a puma but I couldn´t recognise it now. The next site was at Q´engo. Here a rocky construction consisting of narrow tunnels through towering stonework with carved out seats and ledges hides a cavern within in which a table is carved out of the icy cold rock and on which mummification was practised. Outside an amphitheatre was formed around a huge rock representing the surrounding mountains and where the mummies would have been sat in the carved seats as important events were celebrated. A further "everday" fortress and staging post, and a pefectly constructed watering post completed the impressive array of sites. The water was filtered down from the marshy grounds above until flowing completely purely. Drinking from it is said to bring eternal youth so I made sure I took a good gulp of the icy water just in case! Not quite all Inca´d out, just captivated by their skills, I managed a visit to the inca museum in town before finally leaving the charms of Cusco behind and heading for the town of Nasca.

With the buses only just returning to action after the strikes I headed to the bus station in reasonable time, only to discover my bus was to be delayed for an other hour and a half. When we did get going it turned into a long slow journey and taking 18 hours in total rather than the advertised 12! Part of that was due to the debris still strewn across the roads from blockades and round which we had to manoevre, and some was due to roadworks on the narrow roads forcing us to wait at control boards on several occassions, but mostly it was just due to the laidback South-american attitude to time keeping. Needless to say I was happy to reach Nasca and to find a decent hospedaje, despite the taxi drivers sending me off in the wrong direction when I didn´t require their transport. Fortunately that was the first place I´ve been where I was knowingly given false information, and not typical of the rest of people or places I´ve come across along my way. I had an early morning flight over the stange Nasca lines etched into the desert booked, but when I got up in the morning there was a seasonal fog hanging low over the area so there was no prospect of flying for a while yet. Hanging around chatting and waiting the sun slowly began to burn through until we finally after three hours we got the nod to race out to the airport. Several other groups were waiting inside the little terminal but the 5 of us from the hostel got ushered straight through and across the apron to our waiting Cesna. With the two couples filling the rear rows I was co-pilot! Once strapped in and checks were done by our reassuringly captainly looking pilot we taxied off and were in the air in no time. It was very bumpy and coupled with lots of banking I didn´t like it at all. As we circled to see our first shape - a whale - I couldn´t look down! The pilot laughed at my frantic tapping on his arm as the plane went along at nearly 90degrees, him with no hands on the controls pointing out shapes on the ground and on our little info map. (Fraser it was a hundred times worse than that time in Aberdeen when we went on that little rollercoaster!) He assured me "normale normale" as my over vivid imagination worked double time. Gradually as the flight went on I relaxed more, didn´t clench the seat back or base all the time and was able to look and take more photos. By the time we landed in fact I would have been happy to have gone round again! As far as the limes rhemselves go some were far easier to see than others. Generally they were not as vivisble as I´d imagined - especially with so many other lines in the desert sands and hills made by dry river beds, roads and general scuffing. We did overfly the astronaut, monkey, dog, condor, hummingbird, spider, hands tree and parrot before we turned to land and whatever the reasoning behind them and whoever etched them into the ground its certainly a strange and interesting spectacle. Back on the ground it was then a mad race back into town in oeder to catch the bus to Lima.

The trip to the capital was largely unevemtful as we trundled across the desert and along the coast. The only entertainment came when bimgo cards were handed round for a game with a prize of a bottle of Pisco on offer. I´d heard other travellers speaking of bus bingo games but hadn´t experienced one for myself so it was nice to chalk that up before leaving. By the time BINGO was called I had only three numbers left, but that was three too many. I will be practiced though for my return to the UK should National Express have taken up the practice by time I get there!

Lima itself was a bit of a dull city really. Not overly endowed with attractions, and with a constant hazy fog hugging the Pacific coast there wasn´t a lot to entice me to stay longer or to return in the future. The old central square was bounded by highly ornate architecture, and there was a very colourful procession of dancers and bands going on while I was there, but that seemingly was that. Even passing the old railway station all was quiet with not a sight nor sound of Paddington Bear or his friends. I obviously didn´t venture deeply enough into darkest Peru this time round, but with no time left to go back and have another look, I wasn´t too disappointed to move on. Hopefully more wonderful sights await me on my quick trip to the USA.

Living the High Life

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 11 May 2009 16:40:00 GMT

San Pedro was, I suppose, a characterful litle town but it was also a bit of a tourist trap so I wasn´t too disappointed to leave it behind and set out on a three day trip across the desert and saltpans of Bolivia to the town of Uyuni. Seventeen of us and our luggage were squeezed into a minibus and taken as far as the Bolivian border, only an hour or so away. Having climbed through the beautiful orangey-red desert and high mountains to get there, we were at 4400m by the time we reached the border, and it wasn´t warm, so I was ready for the hot coffee and breakfast that was laid out waiting for us! Breakfasted and stamped into the country at the tiny border post, we were divided into three jeep-loads for our trips. In mine there was me, Christophe from France, Julia from USA, Kirsty from Dumfriess, and Bine and Tobi from Gemany. It was to prove a really nice group and we all got on well together having many a laugh along the way. Our driver, Franz, was less talkative and proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. Formalities over we set out, still climbing, through the magnificent colours of the plains and mountains to our first stop at Lake Verde. It was certainly quite green but also crusted white with ice and the reflections of the mountain gradually became clearer as we watched. Our second halt was at the Dali Desert - a collection od stones reminiscent of his work with colour and abstract shapes. Moving on again we got t some hot springs at Laguna Polques. There was a lovely circular hot pool in which we bathed. It was like our own little infinity bath wih the view over the lagoon and streams with blues greens and yellows abounding. It was beautifully hot and lovely to splash about in. On leaving there we climbed again to bubbling hot geysers at 4700m! It was sulphury and bubbly and steamy and amazing to see the many pools of grey sludge in the orange surroundings. The gravel road from there rose and fell and twisted along until we reached Laguna Colorado to see the lovely pink flamingosand some vicuñas which were shoreside. The vicuñas are like guanaco but paler and more yellow in colour. After watching for a while we went the short distance to our refugio for the night. It was certainly basic and proved to be VERY cold at night but it was full of character I suppose. Our little group headed out for a walk round the lake and passed through grassy tussocks and marshy ground watching llamas on one side and fantastic pink flamingos on the water. The laguna was dark blue at the edges turning to sludgy red futher out. The path criss-crossed little streams with stepping stones then rose up a hillside before descending to the lake again. The blue edges turned to shades of green and yellow and then further round to a big bank of white. It was a phenominal setting. Walking I was aware of breathing at the altitude- not too bad but just concious of having to do it and with a slight tightness to the chest- whereas when I was still it wasn´t a problem. As the sun set the temperature plummeted in contrast to the day time heat. Waking next morning I had a raging thirst. The air is so dry that your mouth soon feels like it´s turned to sandpaper! When we set out for the day it was across further beautiful empty wide flat valleys with the multicoloured mountains bounding the plains. Our first stop was at the Stone Tree. An incredible collection of tall rocks rising from the plain. The centrepiece did look vaguely like a tree but some of the other multitextured rocks were just as impressive. Meanwhile the drivers of some of the jeeps in the area were piled round ours trying to fix some problem in the engine - honestly I reckon I must be some kind of mechanical jinx on the vehicles I travel in! Fortunately after a bit of a hose transplant to the water coolant(?) we were soon on our way again. Again we climbed up yet morecolourful scenery and at Laguna Honda we stopped to admire the fantastic reflections of mountains in the water, which still had an icy crust on it from the night before despite the strong daytime sun. Next stop was Laguna Hedionda where we strolled along watching flamingos feeding in the mineral rich lake. At Laguna Cañapa, our final one for the day there were more reflections, more flamingos and more laughs. From there we drove through increasingly stoney rugged terraine to our picnic spot amongst super textured red rocks overlooking the grey steep sided and smoking Volcan Ollague. Afterwards we descended steeply through a rocky channel becoming sandier until we came onto a large expanse of rolled flat looking desert. It was a mix of sand and salt and stretched off into the distance in all directions. We trundled across for ages with mirages beginning to appear in the distance. It was hot in the car but if we opened the windows the dust soon became unbearable. We came to and ran parralel to the Uyuni to Calama railway line for a time. The rails glistened in the sun and the dark colour was a marked contrast to the white of the salty desert. Soon we reached the little village of Chiguana which seemed a friendly place with kids playing, a bit ofbanter between locals and so on. Driving off through the dusty mud-brick buildings we played silly number games and were amazed when the previously taciturn Franz joined in. The salt plains got purer and purer and more and more expansive with the mirage looking as iof there were large lakes and high cliffs. Reaching the edge of the plains the hillsides were covered in the spooky towering cacti. The ground became more earthen and cultivated as we passed a few homesteads and then fields and fields of Quinoa - the native Bolivian grain. Not long afterwards we arrived at our hostel in San Juan. It was completely made of salt: brick walls, granular floor, stools, the lot. Having bought some wine to toast our last night of the tour at the wee shop earlier we had a fine night of blethering and laughs, joining up with one of the other groups later in the evening. We had a very early rise the next morning to travel out on the salt flat to watch the sunrise. Franz was in a bit of a doleful mood and we soon realised he had been drinking! As the sun rose there was a super golden red glow on the horizon gradually getting more orange and pink. After an hour or so we reached Isla Pescado and getting out we walked up the path over the rocks and between the huge cacti as the daylight came in. The wind was very cold and chilling and I found the cacti a bit creepy but the light was beautiful, as were the views out over the salt flats. They extend to over 13000km2 in total and with hills in the distance you only really appreciated the vastness when you sawa vehicle on the salt highway and realised how small it looked. Coming down from the rocky hilltop once the sun was fully up it was great to get the stove on for hot water and a pancake breakfast. Franz hadmoved the jeep into the sun but it was still cold. Like all the other tourists about we had fun posing for silly pictuires on the snow-like salt fields and marvelling at the geometric gexagonal markings. Meanwhile Franz was back on the beer and as we set out weaving madly across the pan he derided our protests, burbling on a bit and throwing empty beercans out his window began to look a bit sleepy. Needless to say we were far from impressed and I remained scared and nervous for the rest of the tour. I was so glad we had Christophe in the car who spoke good Spanish and was able to keep talking to him to ensure he remained as alert as possible. Reaching the original salt hostel which is now a museum there were several nation´s flags planted outside. There was a tiny ragged union jack but no Scottish flag. Kirsty hada big St Andrews cross so we managed a flag-raising ceremony and it was great to see it flapping in the breeze as we left. We stopped again briefly, this time to see the pyramids of salt sitting drying out surrounded by little pools of water before being gathered and taken to the processing plant in readiness for exportation all roundSAand beyond. From there we paused at the little village on the edge of the flats and it was good to see Franz reverting to Fanta and seeming to "come to" a bit again. It was then a short drive to the drab little town of Uyuni, only lifted by the colourful traditional dress of the Bolivian women. They wore bright layered skirts, wool jackets, brightly coloured shawls or papooses for carrying their young children and had little bowler type hats (which looked about two sizes too small) balanced on their heads! It hadbeen a great tour but I can´t really say I was sorry to say goodbye to Franz.

Our group had gelled well over the past three days, though, so it was nice that four of us could travel together to our next destination of La Paz. We bade farewell to Kirsty and Christophe, who were travelling elsewhere, and boarded the overnight bus together. With seats at the back it was a bit cramped as we lurched along the desert at alarming angles. Not a bus in the peak of condition, with rattling windows and squeaking springs, no sealed road, many many pot-holes and lots of hills it was like driving across a cattle grid all the time as far as the noise went and like driving across the Findhorn Dunes as far as the angles went! We carried on like that for several hours before I realised we had joined a semi-flat road again and then it was straight through until we reached La Paz. Reaching the outskirts of the city the buildings were of the squat sqare style synonimous with the area, with old or hand painted signs above the doors of shops and businesses. Traffic got more and more conjested with the many many micros, busses and taxis peeping horn at every turn. As we started to go downhill into the city proper I could make out the incredible sight of the tightly packed red brick houses backing all the way up the slopes of the enormous steep bowl in which the city clings. The place has a real character to it and although not usually a fan of big cities I liked the place and enjoyed the few days I spent there.

The little street our hostel was on, like every street in the city apart from the main thoroughfare which runs through the city at the bottom of the valley bowl like a river, was steeply sloping. Even with having already spent time at altitude climbing up the streets in 3660m high La Paz could take my breath away - and not just because of the views! Despite that it was a great city to wander round with all the colour, noise and atmosphere. Most of the woman still wear traditional dress of bright skirts and shawls, there are more shoe-shine boys touting for business than you could imagine - even trying to get you to let them clean training shoes, the seemingly hundreds of minibus collectivos constantly go by with callers yelling out destinations from the windows at the tops of their voices in order to try to be heard above all the others. Its a fantastic spectacle. Even at night its fantastic to see all the lights stretching back up the hills like stars in the sky.

There are dozens of markets and streetside stalls at every turn too, and wandering through them it was a riot of colour. It seemed you could get anything and everything from tissues to toiletries, fruit to flowers, grass seed to glass jars, plastic bottles, clothes, tiles, toilets, screws nuts and bolts. With no particular sectioning either anything could be next door to anything else. You just had to be wary because with so many people packed into a small space and Bolivia having such poverty it was a pickpockets dream. We had no problems, but we had been well warned to be sensible. One of the markets was called the "Witches Market" and was primarily handicrafts. There was some lovely work and was fantastic for browsing amongst aswell.

The city has several good lookout points but the best was Mirador Killi Killi. I thought the steep climb up was going to killi killi me at one point but the effort was well rewarded. The 360 degree views over the city were fantastic. The light reflected on the red brick buildings and the snow topped mountains glistened. La Paz really is unique I think in its shape and geography and was mesmerising to watch over.

Another interesting attraction in the city is the Coca Museum. There was so much information about to take in however that I know at least half of it probably didn´t register. Used simce pre-inca times the coca leaf has aided life and work, particularly at high altitudes, with its stamina enriching and anaesthetic properties for generations. As with many traditional "medicines" it only really became a problem when western society started to process it with other chemicals into cocaine. In its natural form it has been used in Coca-cola, medicinal drugs and as a traditional drink with no problems. certainly as we´d crossed the desert to Uyuni many people were chewing the leaves to alleviate any altitude sickness symptoms, and I enjoyed the Coca tea. Whether or not it helped with altitude I don´t know but it was refreshing and tasty. Coca can grow in the harshest of environments so is a good crop for local farmers. The leaves are also high in iron, fibre and vitamins. The problems of its processing into cocaine can´t be ignored though and despite efforts by Bolivia to crack down (pardon the pun!) on productio it is difficult to ptightly police with chemicals being flown straight into jungle factories by some western pharmaceutical companies. It was also intersting to note that 36 countries, including USA, GB France and germany are licenced to legally produce cocaine! In Bolivia now coca is still perfectly legal in its raw form for traditional use. Its only when processes that it is highly illegal and possession severely punishable.

During my stay in La Paz I also was able to try eating llama on a few different occassions (sorry all you vegetarians) and I´d have to say its quite nice. I don´t think it´d ever be my favourite meat but its quite tasty. The texture is a bit like pork but the flavour is a bit more lamby, and it goes down very nicely with either a beer or a glass of wine!

When it came time to leave La Paz we four had become three, Julia having already moved on, and our next destinantion was Copacabana on the shore of Lake Titicaca. to get there we travelled across the altiplano and I found myself wondering where all the men go and what they do. In the city its mostly women you see in stalls and such and in the country its mostly women you see in the fields. Some men are obviously the drivers and shouters on the collectivos but I don´t know what the rest do. Also its funny that generally the women seem hefty while the men are slightly built! Anyway, carrying on through the countryside I got my firdt glimpses of the lake then we descended to the littlñe town of San Pablo de Tiquina where we had to make a short boat crossing to San Pedro de Tiquina. We bus passengers had to get out as it boarses a few planks of wood bound together with a little bit of edging and a small motor to make the short crossing. It certainly was not robust! Meanwhile we had to board a separate little boat for our crossing. It was small and basic with a loosely floored bottom and the little outboard encased in a wooden shelter which meant that the fumes came back into the hull where we were seated along the sides. It only took 5 minuted to cross but the boat was pretty shoogly - mum, I reckon you´d even have preferred to cross to Davaar in dad´s little dinghy!! Once safely across and reunited with our bus we climbed up the hills which were slightly tiered for planting and in which whole families in national dress seemed to be workimg, many with the help of donkeys. Any animals were tethered rather than in fields as such and stacks were commonplace. Twisting up and through the hills the lake looked lovely with the deep dark blue water glinting in the sun, Then we descended again, this time to the tiny dusty lakeside village of Copacabana from where, after a night in a nice hostel complete with a nice grandaddy type man sorting his tatties in the little courtyard (I thought of both you dad and also of grandad!), I was able to go out to the Isla del Sol.

Setting out for the island it was a slow chugging ride, but nice with the morning sunshine on the blue water. There were only one or two birds to be seen but on some of the cliffs we passed there was lots of flat bushy fronded cactus glinting in the sun. Just over an hour out we reached the south end of the island where some got out then the rest of us carried on to the north end. The southern hillsides looker lovely with lots of planting in little terraces all the way down from the village perched at the top of the hill. At the northern end, where I got out, the path, after leaving the little village, crossed a sandy little beach with a couple of boats in the bay before heading uphill past a few more houses and a grazing donkey or two. The views over the lake were great and there was plenty of green on th cultivated areas but I couldn´t help think bck to lake Baikal. Titicaca wasn´t as enthrallimg as Baikal was, despite them both being huge scenic bodies of water. However, I did fair enjoy the walk along the ridgetops and out to the inca ruins. It was a bit difficult without a guide to know exactly what I was looking at but the stone table and multiroomed stone buildings perched on the hillside with commanding views were certainly admirable in their own right. The trail down to the southern end of the island was well made though rough stoned and a seemingly endless series of long hills to climb in the hot sun, and at mearly 4000m the altitude does nothing to make it any easier. Fortunately with many great views over the grey rocks, tiered plantations, cacti strewn ground, numerous little bays and the miltishades of blue on the lake and high snow covered mountains in the distance on the mainland there was no shortage of excuses to stop regularly. Nearing the end of the trek some local people were laying out tree branches to dry in the sun and the aroma from the foliage was lovely and fresh and reviving. Finally I reached the little village of Yumani and found a nice little place to stay for the night. Eating in a little family reataurant just below my hospedaje the service may have been slow but the food was good. I had lovely vegetable soup then the local speciality of trout with rice and veggies. I had been looking forward to watching the sunset but I sat so long eating and admiring the fantastic view from my table that I was too late for it! Nevertheless I watched the dusky scene and listened to the kids playing and donkeys braying having come up the hill laden with goods as families returned to the village in the evening.

Entertained by the two little girls from the house over breakfast in the morning, I then sat for a final look at the view before setting off down the hill to the harbour and the return trip to the maniland. It was about 15 minutes down the stone path and steps that is the "inka staircase" and for much of the time I was following a woman, her son, and their donkeys as the headed to their terraces for the day. When I got down to the bottom I had time to enjoy the litlle bay with boats in the harbour and the hive of activity in the terraces above before we set off on our very slow chug back to Copacabana. There was a mum with her wee toddler girl on board too who was attempted to be entertained by a couple next to me. the toddler sat big eyed and unimpressed by them for the whole journry though, which in turn entertained the rest of us and livened what would otherwise have been a slow and uneventful crossing!

Back on dry land it was time to say farewell to Tobi and Bine as I headed to the Peruvian end of the lake and to the little town of Puno.

Bodegas and Gauchos

mogsie08-09 — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 17:31:00 GMT

It was another long bus journey to reach Mendoza but finally, after having left the semitropical north behind and passed through farming country I arrived in the semi-arid area in which the city sits. I found a busy city with a large central square which acts as the meeting and gathering point for many. The city centre is then bounded by four further squares which mark the outer corners of the centre and each is a celebration of past connections with different countries. The city is nice enough and certainly comes to life at night when people gather in the squares and market stalls set up around the place (Jill, it reminded me of the craft markets when we were in Rome) but for me it wasn´t a perticularly outstanding place in its own right. What I did love though, surprise surprise, was my visit to the wine making area of Maipu just outside the city limits! After a nasty start to the day I had had a fantastic time by the time it ended. Having caught the local bus to Maipu all was going fine as we went through the city outskirts until, as we headed through the last few strrets before my stop there was a sudden bang at theside of the bus. Momentarily I thought nothing of it given the jolting and pot-holes there are in the streets but as I turned I sawc acloud of dust and bits of a car careering across the air/street into some trees at the corner: it had smashed straight into the side of us. I didn´t want to look too closely but it was clear from the shocked faces of onlookers in the street that we would be going nowhere fast. Once an ambulance was called there was nothing else we passengers could do and we were ushered off the bus and away to look for another bus on the main road. With Argentinians there to explain to the next driver why we were on his bus, we got on our way again and I was soon dropped of outside "Mr Hugo´s". It was there that I hired a bike, was given a bottle of water and little map of the local wineries and such, and set out for my day of touring and tastings. Knowing I´d have to be careful on the roads I was concentrating hard as I set off but promptly turned the wrong way onto the road!! Fortunately there were no vehicles there, I realised my mistake and corrected myself, and the watchful Mr Hugo saw me and shouted at me too! I didn´t make the same mistake again - but did have to concentrate to remember to negotiate the roundabout the wrong way round! Safely on my way my first stop was at the Museo del Vino Rural. An interesting place the small winery had a guided tour showing the process of wine making and some interesting artefacts from days gone by. After our tour we were given a large sample of one of their wines to try. All the while we were watched by the originally mainly white winery cat who follows tourists round angling for petting of titbits. I say originally white because with the dry air and dust it certainly wasn´t an advert for any washing powder! The wine itself was ok but not wonderful so I moved off to the next place on my list. Historias Y Sabores makes chocolate, liquers and chutneys. The tour there wes very basic - really just pointing out what they produced but the tasting was better! First up were the liquers and with three to pick I had a Chocolate and banana one, a mint chocolate and a grapefruit one. The chocolate ones were too sweet - the minty one even reminding me of nightnurse(!) but the grapefruit one I liked. How easily I could picture drinking it oner ice on a hot sunny afternoon. After the liquers it was chocolate tating amd again we could pick three types. It was ok but not like belgian chocolate or even Thornton´s continentals! The preserves I did enjoy though, particularly an aubergine one which I new I´d like as a dip or on bread so was easily persuaded to by a jar. Leaving there I headed to what was to be my favourite stop of the day by a country mile! Tempus Alba had a lovely entrance with dry grass and slabbed landscaping, and an attractive Stone wood and metal building. A little pathway took me past some of the vines and into the entrance hall where there were further interpretive panels. Upstairs was the wine bar and sun deck, complete with shading sails, where I could pick which three wines I wanted to try. I picked a Malbec, Temptanillo and a Merlot. Sitting in the warmth but shaded from the sun, looking over their vines and olive trees, my wines were brought to me and then I was joined by the lovely Cristian! One of the family who owns the small estate he was proud to talk about their wines, the ISO certification process for tourim which they were currently in the middle of, but also just to sit and blether about life and travel in general and drink our wines, all of which were equally delicious, smooth, rounded and lip-smackingly tasty! Joined for a time by an English couple it was all very relaxed and convivial - just like we were all old friends sitting in the garden having a drink and a catch up on our news. The english couple moved on before I did and once they left Cristian gave me some of his Cabernet Sauvignon to try aswell. It was fantastic with a real raspberry like flavour. In some form of exchange I gave him some whisky recommendations to taste and/or visit, as the sensible man explained whisky and red wine were his two favourite drinks and he and some friends are coming to Scotland later in the year to tour some distilleries. So, Vicky, if Cristian Soper and friends from Argentina arrive at the visitor centre sometime in the next couple of months look after him for me will you!! When I finally left the charms of Tempus Albus it was almost literally just across the road to Viña El Cerno. Trying just two wines there: a chardonnay (unusual for Argentina) and a Merlot. Feeling the need to soak up some of my liquid intake I also managed a steak and salad from their Parilla. The steak was fine too, though not as good as the others I had in Argentina. My last stop of the day took me further along the busy road over the bumps and potholes and gravel edges and out to the Familia Di Tomaso. A small homely enterprise we sampled three different Malbecs - basic, better and best (although my favourite was the middle one) and a sweet wine. Never a fan of sweet wine, this was no exception - too much like a sweet sherry for me. A tour of their premises followed, seeing some of their vinyards, equipment, and the old fashioned brick storage tanks which they now just use to hold finished bottles of wine. From there I raced back to Mr Hugo´s to get back before he closed for the evening. I needn´t have rushed however as I was sat down on their terrace with others to have a complimentary glass of wine to round off my day before leaving. We were entertained by a tiny kitten and big Alsation dog which wandered about, the best of friends, as we sat. They pleaded for scraps as we ate the delicious empanadas which were on offer, but they were so tasty there was nothing leftover for the animals! On leaving Mr and Mrs "Hugo" made sure we all had change for, and caught, the right buses and then it was a straightforward ride back to town after a great day out.

From Mendoza I travelled up to the city of Salta. The journey took me through the arid desert landscape contrasted on one side by the Andes mountains. Unable to really see them from Mendoza city they dominated the skyline with multi v-shaped valleys up and down the hillsides. Continuing through the pempas there would be clusters of square brick or wooden shack houses so prominent throughout the countryside and poorer parts of the towns. The colours were mainly dominated ny yellows and greens but at one point we passed Pampa Blanco - a wide white expanse of salt pan looking just like snow at the roadsides. Finally we crested a large hill and descended into the sprawling city of Salta. Going out to explore I found it a much bigger and busier place than I expected with lots of narrow streets in the centre making it feel a bit enclosed. There are though a couple of pedestrianised streets which is a rarity in Argentina as far as I can tell, and the cental square is bounded by an ornately decorated cathedral, museums, theatre and similar ornate or grand buildings. One of my main reasons for visiting Salta had been to travel the "Train to the Clouds" but on enquiring I discovered it didn´t operate in April! A bit of a disappointment. Wanting something else to do I organised a visit to an estancion to go horseriding with a gaucho. Estancion Sayta is just outside the little village of Chicoana about 40km from Salta and it was nice having the drive out of the city. The little towns or villages we passed through seemed much more Argentine than the hectic city somwhow (though salta is very much south american with street corner trading, mad driving, peeping horns, traffic jams, and a noticably more ethnic appearance to many of the people). Arriving at the estancion I found a nice place - old house, various outbuildings, dogs running round the sheds and two horses tied to a tree at the gate. Welcomed by the friendly owner Enrique I was taken across to the veranda for tea, bread and a bit of a chat before being kitted out with a set of leather chaps and introduced to Refucho, my gaucho. We got onto our horses, he schooled me on the gaucho way of riding, we collected Mackay the dog and set out. He didn´t speak English but we managed basic conversation and he knew enough to check me if I wasn´t doing something quite right or needed directions. It was a really enjoyable trek going along the unsealed country roads, along a little stream, through the woods, passed farmland and little fincas, through a little village, over rough ground and back down the gravel tracks and roads to the estacion. The colours were amazing: lots of yellow from the tall crysanth/daisy type flowers, deep blue petunias, green black bean plants in the fields, maize, skies turning blue as the cloud lifted and the mountains becoming more visible and striking as the light on them changed. The only noise was the clip-clop of the horses, barking of dogs, a few birds and a tractor chugging along in the field. Even the smell was nice - a fresh mix of earth grass and flowers. It was so tranquil I was enjoying plodding along happily. At one point Refucho got me to have a bit of a gallop which was fun, even if he did stop me to improve my posture and technique before letting me go on again. In the fincas men pottered around, women did their washing and young kids played and giggled. Entering the village it was a friendly place with the customary higgledy-pigglety houses and wide concrete or dusty earthen tracks. Old trucks and cars sat in various states of collapse, and folk wandered in and out of the butchers, cafe or such. We crossed down to the football pitches before I was allowed another bit of a gallop, then round by the wide but dry river before walking through the bushes and back to the estancion. So relaxing and so enjoyable. safely dismounted I was ushered back to the table for a glass of wine, some fois gras (a gift from previous guests) and more chat. Sitting in the warm sun I was in my element and could have sat there for ages but all too soon it was time for my lift back to salta.

Back in town I climbed Cerro San Bernardo the hill overlooking the city and enjoyed the panoramic views. On they way back I stopped for an ice-lolly and once again found the freezer locked. It makes me laugh when nothing else ever seems to be locked that its the ice-cream freezers that are. It must be a precious cargo indeed.

Mother, you can relax: not having found a gaucho to sweep me off my feet, and the lovely Cristian not asking me to stay at his winery, there was nothing to stop me moving on or to prevent me meeting up with you in Canada in June, so I organised the next leg of my trip! Bolivia was calling, and although I fancied trying to visit the area made famous by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the transport connections were a bit more complicated and irregular so I opted to Zigzag in to Bolivia a little further north, via San Pedro de Atacama in Chile instead. As we headed north towards the border area we passed through countryside with grazing cattle before we started to climb and climb and climb and the road twisted up and round numerous hairpin bends. The vegetation gave way to scrub land as the mountains got steeper and stonier, then huge creepy looking cacti appeared. At first there were clumps of them but then they just grew singly. Tall and branchless they were eerie and alien looking! The colours of the mountains were amazing greys, reds and pinks. The earlier pouring rain stopped and either the cloud lifted or we rose above it as we crawled uphill and the sky became clear blue. The deep valleys became drier and drier until even the cacti stopped growing. Ocasionally there´d be a little pocket of green in an oasis but that was it. Roadside we passed a few donkeys, goats and llamas. Dry and barren there was nevertheless the incredible mix of reds greys and orange. By this time we were about 4000m and a tiny river provided another pocket of green before we finally reached the argentine border at Paseo Jama and had reached 4200m! The frontier was little more than a few mud brick houses, a fuel station and the customs and migration office. Despite the officer double checking my passport photo really was me I was soon stamped out of Argentina - my 8th crossing of their borders! I wasn´t sure whether I felt the air different because of the altitude or whether it was just fresher and clearer than the cities of late, but even with the warm sun there was a bit of a nip in the air. Once we were all back on the bus the road dipped before climbing still more this time passing a damp marshy area in complete contrast to the planetary desert which reminder me of Tongariro. Soon we began our descent, though, and eventually crossed the Chilean frontier and arrived in the small dry dusty little town of San Pedro.

All Roads North

mogsie08-09 — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 10:45:00 GMT

If it had been a super-fast ralley run South to Ushuaia it was completely the opposite as I headed North. The journey seemed incredibly slow across Tierra del Fuego with everything seeming to overtake us. Even the border crossings back into Chile, although not a slow process, seemed to add to the time it was taking. There wasn´t much to alter the scenery as we went but we did meet a farmer, his horse, dog leading his sheep along the road at one point. It was a real stereotypical Patagonian scene but nice to see it in reality. Eventually after about eight hours we finally reached the ferry. Two huge lorries were first in line for boarding but when the time came it became obvious that there wasn´t enought clearance for them to drive on. There then followed a bit of headscratching until the lorries had to turn and try reversing on. With a bit of repositioning of the ferry, a relay of numerous wooden boards acting as ramps and being packed underneath the wheels and constantly repositioned as the lorry was inched back under the eagle eye of the crew and other drivers, first one then the other were finally boarded. It was a bit of drama and entertainment for us watching interestedly from the wings! Once we were all on board and set off we were then joined by several Commersons Dolphins surfing and jumping round the boat. Their black and white colouring stood out wonderfully against the milky grey green of the sea. They stayed just a short while before disappearing, and then we reached the other side and were on our way too, and soon crossed back into Argentina again and continued Northwards. With just a change of bus at the uninspiring town of Rio Gallegos, it was a long drive up to my destination of Puerto Madryn. For the most part the scenery remained the wide expanse of emptiness although as the sun got stronger and hotter the vegetation changed more towards prickly short bushes and less grass. Travelling at what seemed a very sedate pace for hours and hours and hours we finally arrived and I was more than ready to get out and have a look around the town. Quiet during the day by early evening it got busier and was pleasantly bustling. There is a wide seashore promenade where everyone seems to gather - families walking, youths hanging around, kids playing, beach walkers, rugby coashing classes, you name it it happens there! It makes for a great atmosphere and with the setting sun throwing a deep red glow over the area it was a lovely evening.

The main reason for my stop in Puerto Madryn was to visit the Valdez Peninsula. There were just 4 of us on my trip which was nice and we set off climbing through the plains to Istmo Ameghino. The isthmus there divides the Gulf of San Jose from Gulf Nuevo and marks the entrance to the peninsula. All roads on it are gravel so it was a dusty and bumpy days travelling but well worth it. First stop was at Punta Norte which is only one of a couple, if not the only, place in the world where Orcas, hunting the young sealions which bask on and aroud the beach, are known to actually take them straight from the sands themselves! They seem to use echo sounding, and though there are known to be about 16 whales regularly patrolling the area only 5 or 6 are thought to have the skill to actually take the pups from the beach. Its a nice spot with the dark beaches stretching round the corners, the grey sandy soil having blown over the few bushes amongst the desert, the sea a lovely rich blue with white waves breaking onto the shore. Lots of sealions were to be seen on the beach and swimming in the shallows. As we waited and watched we saw 3 or 4 orcas also patrolling the coast. They cruised back and fore hunting and diving and we watched, on one hand willing them to demonstrate their incredible hunting skills but at the same time hoping the cute looking pups would be safe for another day! In the end the sealions were safe and the orcas continued on round the coast. I'm not quite sure why this location is the oly place the whales act like this, it must be something to do with the geography, but it means there is an almost permanent delegation of Natinal Geographic of TV film crews in the area. We left and in the car park watched an armadillo parading around until it found a bit of banana and scuttled off out of sight of its audience. We left and drove down to watch a colony of Magellan Penguins. There was a mixture of maturing young and molting adults sheltering in holes in the sand cliff, all down its slope, on the shore at the bottom, and playing in the water below. Some slept, some preened themselves or each other, some watched us and some played in the water - evidently delighted to be clean and back in the sea after shedding their old feathers for new. It was great to watch and nice to add a third breed of penguin to the list of those I've seen in the wild this trip. Leaving there we carried n down past Caleta Valdes, a 30km sand spit, and at its end we stopped at a little estancia come visitors complex where we were able to see Elephant Seals basking on the sands below us. The Southern Elephant Seals are the largest of the 18 types of seal and can dive to an incresible 1500m. That day they were only resting and sleeping. We finished our tour in the little village of Puerto Piramides. With no pier or proper harbour the boats are transferred to and from the water by tractor and trailer similar to at Mahau in NZ. On one side of the sandy bay was a high cliff and at the foot of it was a slightly unusual flat topped, round edged, and neatly tiered staging of stone embedded with shells. It looked artificial but was in fact completely natural. After a walk in the village we returned to Madryn. There was an Asado (traditional Argentinian BBQ) organised at the hostel at night and it was a super evening of eating drinking and chatting rounding off yet another good day. The big asado grill is heated with the ashes from the huge adjoining fireplace and was filled with lamb, chicken, sausages and morcilla. These "blood sausages" are the equivalent of our black pudding, were absolutey delicious and every bit as good as Charley Barley´s! If I´d had room I could have easily had more but my plate was already full with all the meat and the accompanyong salads and bread! Delicious!!

My next stop of my road North was Buenos Aires itself. Never a huge fan of big cities it usually takes me a few days to get used to them and BA was no different really. However, I arrived on Easter Sunday and found the city slightly eerily quiet with everything closed up for the day. I intended heading out to explore the next day but it didn´t quite work out like that. I must have developed an allergic reaction to something and when I woke in the morning my eyes were so swollen I could hardly open them. Fortunately with amtihistamines from the pharmacist, more from a doctor staying in the same hostel, and a day sat bathing them in water they soon improved. On the positive side I did learn some new Spanish phrases as a result, though admittedly "I woke with a face like a balloon" is hardly the easiest phrase to work into everyday conversation: in fact if I´m honest I´ve probably forgotten it already! When I was able to venture out without looking like I´d come straight from the boxing ring I went on a couple of good walking tours to see more of the city. The contrasts of wealth and poverty in the city are marked. Sitting almost alongside shanty town are some of the most oppulent streets, stores and buildings. After World War 1 Argentina was able to export its plentiful resources of meat, animals and leather to Europe bringing a lot of riches to the country. On the ships returning from their exporting trips the wealthiest families were able to import goods from the "style capitals" of europe such as France. With one trying to outdo the next it wasn`t uncommon for whole buildings to be brought back and reassembled in Argentina. There are many grand buildings throughout the city as a result but little that you could say is typically Argentinian. Even the parliamentary buildings are copies from other countries. Walking from the government Consular Palace down to the very pink Pink House, which is the Presedential building probably made most famous by Eva Peron, we passed the Plaza de Mayo. Its there that is the venue for the weekly parade of "The Mothers". Interestingly we were told that the local Porteños have little support for them now. The feeling is they have become a political lobbying group and lost sight of their original cause. A splinter group "The Grandmothers" is more highly regarded and continues to work with much success to try to trace the lost and disappeared from the Dirty War years. Our tour ended at the iconic towering white obelisk in Republica Plaza which is probably the most revered symbol of Argentina for its citizens and the gathering point for major celebrations. The Recoleta Cemetery was another interesting place. With the wealthy and well-heeled and famous buried there the BA determination to try to outdo his neighbour continues with row after row of ornate anf elabotare mausoleums. Unlike our rows of headstones here there are rows of buildings acting as shrines or tombs for the departed. Not an inch of open space remained and it was a bit bizarre. Sometumes there was no evidence of an urn or coffin but spookily sometimes there was - in varying states of decomposition! Among those burried there of course is Eva Peron, and her family mausoleum was bedecked with floral tributes in stark contrast to the others. An unusual tourist attraction maybe but interesting nonetheless.

One evening three of us went out to a Parilla called El Denevil. A typically Argentinian grill restaurant it was relaxed with a casual atmosphere. Packed with locals and tourists alike the food and wine was good. The steak was magnificently tender and cooked to perfection. The traditional Chimmichunga sauce was equally nice, either with the meat or just with bread. Argentina´s meat certainly lives up to its reputation. In turn for my last night I went to a tango show - after all I couldnt go to BA and not see the tango performed now could I? The show was really in two parts and although the first half was more an interactive song and dance performance but as it was conducted all in Spanish so I barely understood a thing. The second half was more of a demonstration and the footwork of the dancers was incredibly quick and intricate and great to watch. The band was good aswell: comprising a violin, squeezebox, double bass and piano the tunes were traditional and were certainly enjoyed by the mainly Argentine crowd who happily joined in the dancing and singing whenever possible.

Next for me was a visit to the wonferful Iguazu Falls. Arriving in the town of Puerto Iguazu in the morning I caught the local bus out to the national park thinking that a day would be enough. How wrong I was! I ended up spending two days on the Argentinian side, then nipping over to Brazil for the day to see them from that angle! I have to say, though, that it was far less spectacular from Brazil really. Sure, you get some panoramic views but it was far more interesting and beautiful in Argentina. Throughout the large park there, there are a number of trails taking you round the various cascades giving a variety of places to admire them from. There is a little train aswell which runs from one walk to the next but I enjoyed meandering through the forest between places. The trees and bamboos were tall and offered a bit of shade from the heat but also amazed me with the range of different colourful butterflies which were around. There were big ones, little ones, many vividly coloured others quite camouflaged, and some with markings that looked for all the world as if they´d been branded with a number 88! The woods were also the home of a lot of Coatis which wandered around scrounging for food. They were a strange mix of long snouted, stripey tailed, little eared, furry foxy budger skunk like type of animal! There weren´t a lot of birds around but those that were were generally colourful and friendly too. There were some huge jungle eagles which circled overhead all the time though. They were very graceful but extremely powerful looking and fascinating to watch for a while. The falls themselves are really a series of almost 300 cascades stretching for about 3km in length and towering anything up to 80metres in height. Walking the "upper circuit" took me along the tops of a few big waterfalls dropping sharply into the river below. It was lovely and the river was so gently flowing before it fell that the contrast between quiet calm and the roaring falling curtain of water was pronounced. That trail also allowed me to look across to even more forceful and majestic looking falls further round the cliffs. The "lower trail" zig-zagged down the cliffs before following the river round and giving spectacular views through the trees to the towering blankets of water falling opposite. With the sun reflecting in all the spray which was thrown up there were little rainbows glinting in the gorges too. Across on Isla San Martin, a little island nestled in the river basin in front of the falls, a steep climb up the high steps allowed yet another viewpoint and let you appreciate how much greenery there was on the cliffs behind some of the cascades. The heat and damp is very obviously a good growing combination! Another trail, "Garganto del Diablo" (the Devil´s Throat) crossed the idyllicly peaceful upper river by means of a stilted walkway. With the flat calm water, the blue skies, little rocks sitting just proud of the water, the tall dense trees and the reeds and grasses visible on the little islands it had a real tropical feel to it. Then I reached the waterfalls and the contrast was unbelievable. The noise, power, force, volume and height of the falls truly became obvious. Absolutely shooting in a great boiling mass of water down the 70+m drop it was a boiling white cauldron. The spray from the crashing water rose back the full height and more in enormous thick misty clouds making it look like you were peering through opaque glass at times. Numerous rainbows punctuated the white wall of water. Even the green tufts of plants on the upper river were dripping with water as if a hose had just been turned on them. It was beautiful breathtaking and wonderful. I remember being amazed at Niagara but here the force and height was even more. By the time I was leaving the sun was beginning to sink and a lovely mellow glow was being shed on the surrounding scenery. Incredible. I had wanted to go on a little boat trip through the upper river islands but it wasn´t running because (as far as my spanish and sign language allowed me to make out) the water level was too low. I can only imagine what Iguazu would be like with a higher water level it was just so spectacular as it was and a fantastic place to spend time.

My visit to Iguazu over, I had gone as far north as I could without changing direction or country. I opted to stay in Argentina for a little longer and turned west(ish) ...

Going to the Ends of the Earth

mogsie08-09 — Tue, 7 Apr 2009 05:00:00 GMT

The scenery on the trip across the border to Argentina was beautiful. In Chile there were many little lakes, grazing cattle, horse riding farmers and a spectacularly colourful clothes market in the otherwise drab and run-down looking Orsorno. Street after street was emblazened with roadside sellers of clothes. With their wares spread out on the ground and throngs of people hunting for bargains it was an incredible spectacle. Climbing up the steep roads into the Andes the mountains became rugged and jagged bedecked on the lower slopes with trees just beginning to turn to autumnal colours so little patches of russet tinged the tips of the trees. Crossing the border and entering Argentina the scenery contined to be wonderful. The mountains seemed to get more and more defined and turning down the aptly named Seven Lakes Road we passed beautiful sparkling blue lakes. A couple with beaches, others not, but all in glorious situations and competing with greens blues and white-greys to find the most vivid colour combinations. With the quiet road cutting through it I just found it so attractive and just as I might have pictured a typical Andean scene. My destination of Bariloche was perched on the banks of one of the lakes, Nahuel Huapi, was bounded by hills and mountains and with many stone and wood built buildings within the town and altogether was very pretty. Of course there was also the typical, I think, South American building site feel to the place too. There is always some constuction or repair works being undertaken which seem to get left mid-work as another job is started and landscaping just doesn´t happen at all. The rough bare ground just gets left for weeds to grow and dogs to make beds in. You just have to realise that priorities are different here and you always get the mix of rough and ready and stunningly picturesque next door to each other. After a spending some time enjoying the town I took a bus out to explore some of the local National Park a bit further. Arriving at the settlement of Villa Los Cohiues, at the head of Lago Gutierrez and with a little pebble beach,sparkling blue water, tree lined edges and high mountains overlooking it, it was a lovely start to the day. I followed the gravel road past holiday homes, new build and numerous dogs. Everywhere you go whether it be city, mountain, countryside or village, dogs abound. Mostly living rough or stray but often just wandering from their homes - they tend to live outside and are never put on a lead. None have ever seemed aggressive though and either just pad about snuffling around or, more commonly, just lie flat out somewhere looking overheated and exhausted. Anyway, I reached the park control gates and took the track through some lovely cool woods and up to a little stram and gentle waterfall - Cascada de Los Duendes. I was joined by a few very inquisitive little birds - bigger than robins and a bluey-black colour but with the orange-red breast they scooted about non-stop and were very entertaining to watch. I continued heading up the steep sandy and tree root laden path until I reached the lookout point. The view to the hills and to the lake was stunning. The hilltop behind was craggy and kind of turreted along its crest - a bit like a row of warriers waiting to attack. The trees were largely green and erect but with some ghostly pale and dead looking. The lake was gleeming bright blue. The reflection of the mountain opposite was beautiful and the hills stretched way off to the distant horizon. Just like some glossy travel mag´s typical Andean scene. I walked down through the trees until they petered out and were replaced by high bushes, grass and gorse with the sandy path becoming increasingly stoney. It was lovely and sheltered from the light breeze and with the heat, the mountains and the yellowy-green colourings I felt like I could have been in some Western film set. I was just thinking to myself that even should Clint Eastwood come riding by in Stetson and poncho it wouldn´t surprise me when I rounded a corner and came face to face with a horse - though no gaucho! It had an old frayed rope halter trailing looses but no sign of a rider and it wandered contentedly so I presume it was half feral now. Not much later, after crossing a couple of vitually dry creeks, I took a path leading down to Playa Muñoz. Reentering the trees I went back down a steep sandy path until I got back to the lake. It was almost flat calm, near perfect reflections, and absolute peace and tranquility with only a little road noise from Ruta 40 on the other side floating across. It was so beautiful with the little shingle beach, old bleached tree trinks, stones and clear water. It was amazing how deep and cold the water got quickly, thereby failing the paddle test let alone swimming! It was an easy place to while away a day until I retraced my steps and caught a bus back to town.

Seeing the horse in the park really put me in the mood for a bit of riding so that was next on my agenda. Collected from the hostel a small group of us were taken to some fields on the edge of town where Sebastien, our guide, had his horses grazing. The saddles were old and not overly comfy but at least they were there and I got onto my horse called Pampa. Once everyone was saddled up we set off. It was a slow plod to begin with, across the fields and round some back roads before crossing the main road and starting to work our way uphill. At first we were just on the dirt roads around verious houses but gradually the paths got narrower and sandier and we filed into a single line as we trekked through the bush forest. Very undulating ground meant I was happy for the hose to be doing the walking and not me - though my bum wished it had a comfier seat! Breaking through the trees the view across and down Lake Nahuel Huapi was stunning. It was again almost flat calm and we could see up and down its length to the hills beyond, over Bariloche way below us and across the forrest through which we´d climbed. (Val, I thought of you on a pony above Drum looking down Loch Ness! Have you been back again yet?) Reaching a clearing at the top we dismounted and had a very welcome stretch of the legs before setting off downhill again. Pampa had led most of the way up and as soon as I got back on she was off again eagerly leading us down, but gingerly finding her feet on some of the steep sandy sections. Once we got back to the wider tracks we were able to break out into a canter, which is much easier than a jolting trot and so much more fun than a slow plod, until we got back to the houses and reverted back to walking. Back where we started I was quite happy to dismount and have a comfier car seat for the trip back to town. I rewarded myself for my efforts with a fantastic ice-cream - once I´d sussed out the complicated queueing system! Paying first at a till you then go and get a ticket, then when your number is called you exchhange it and your receipt for your ice-cream. It was all very complicated but fortunately my stawberry ice was more than worth it - a huge couple of scoops with big chunks of strawberry piled high into the bowl. Yummy!

My final visit from Bariloche was out to Cerro Campanirio, one of the hills not far from town. Reaching the bottom of the hill you can either take a chairlift up or walk through the trees. Knowing how I feel about chair lifts you´ll not be surprised to hear I walked! Almost straight away the path became a steep climb up loose sandy soil. It was tough going and I´d barely gone 10 minutes before I had to stop for a rest! Moving on again I met 3 horse-trekkers on their descent a few minutes later and stepped aside to let them past. Looking up I saw the end of the chairlift not far above me. In my garbled Spanish I thought I´d asked how long the climb took and had been told an hour, but either I misunderstood the answer or was given the time for a round trip, because scrambling up the last rocky section I made it to the top in only 20 minutes or so. Anyway, my exertions were amply rewarded by the views. Looking out over the various lakes all around and the surrounding mountains you could see for miles. On an absolutely clear day I think you can see seven lakes. I don´t know how many I saw as it wasn´t obvious whether one or two were separate or one large mass of water, but regardless it was spectacular. Watching and admiring for a while I then set off back down the hill. It was almost as hard going down as up because the sandy soil was so slippery but I was soon safe at the bottom again and caught my bus back to Bariloche. When it came there were lots of schoolkids on board and more got on and off as we went. It was really quite funny as all the kids seem to wear white lab-coat type jackets for going to school so it just looked like a bunch of little scientists on an outing! Back in town I got the wonderful aroma of grilling steak coming from a street cart with a long queue of Argentinians waiting as he cooked strips of steak, chorizo and hamburgers to order. Always using queuing locals at a food outlet as a good sign I joined the queue and after a long wait I finally got a delicious, and cheap, steak sandwich with salad and a drink. The beef was absolutely delicious and tender and cooked just as I like it. What with good steak, lovely ice-cream, and free breakfasts and dinners at the hostel, Bariloche certainly looked afer me well food wise! It was time to move on though.

Route 40 is legendary in Argentina, being an almost completely gravel road running the full length of the country down the Western side. Me being me, I decided I had to travel at least a substantial section of it too and organised to travel down it to El Calafate in the south of the country. Having heard horror stories from other travellers of tests of endurance over the 30 or 40 hour trip, and being well warned by the woman at the ticket counter that it was just a basic bus, no frills, and with the ticketing company called El Garrobal (pronounced el harrobal) I hoped it wasn´t going to be "El Horriblë". Half expecting a ramshackle town minibus to turn up I was almost slightly disappointed when a perfectly normal intercity bus turned up! Although long and obviously rattley as we bumped along the gravel road it was a perfectly normal journey and standard of service was no different from any other intercity bus service in any other country I´ve been in - just not as all inclusive a SA bus companies usually are. The landscape as we crossed Patagonia was a seemingly endless expanse of barren yellow grass tussocks and some thorny looking little bushes. The sandy soil was stone splattered, partly natural and partly thrown from the road by passing vehicles. There is no keep right requirement ant vehicles travel the path of best fit. There was some but not a lot of traffic so it was a rare occassion when we met another vehicle. Although wide and expansive it was also undulating with at times many turns and occasional steep climbs, descents or hairpin bends. There wer lots of tiny birds flitting around the grasses and an odd one or two larger ones aswell. A couple of llama-like guanacos wandered around and several rheas (flightless mini ostrich/emu cross type birds). Grazing sheep, a herd of wild (perhaps) horses and just a few cows completed the wildlife tally. Stopping at one petrol station acouple of harassed looking older women served teas and coffees with that small town air of surprise that a bus load of people should appear - despite the fact that it happens every second day! I smiled to myself as the "glammier" one of the two wandered about with her painted nails, matching top and trousers and cigarette in holder collecting empty cups! A real latin look. With much upgrading work being done on the road (no doubt it will be sealed in the future) we had several diversions and stops to make. Arriving in the little town of Perito Morena it was announced we´d have a 4.5hr break before continuing. With nothing at the terminal other than a petrol station and nothing but a couple of kids and a few snoozing dogs to be seen in the ghostly quiet little town it was a long wait. Finally continuing the journey the terrain was ostensibly similar to before, but became more and more hilly. Big steep sided drops around possibly wind carved ridges and vertical channels in the ground created corrugated like cliffs. Mostly with flat hill tops there would be some craggy areas and as we twisted up and down it became lunar like. The colours too were amazing - for the most part dusty grey but sometimes yellow and at times red patches to the earth and rocks. I love dit and with the sun starting to set the light was lovely. After a time we crossed a few creeks and marshy areas with geese and ducks taking full advantage. Little pockets of green trees popped up where there was more water and a little farm estancion. As the light disappeared I fell asleep again and woke to early morning rain in El Chalten as we dropped off some passengers. En route from there to Calafate we had a brief stop at a little cafe in the middle of nothing. With a huge fire in the hearth, steaming hot coffee and a nice looking selection of cakes and pastries (though I resisted the temptation it being still too early even for me) it was fine stop. Continuing through the rain on the last part of the journey the rivers got more and more milky pale aquamarine in colour with quite substantial overspill into the surrounding fields, and then we reached our destination. Spread out buildings with a compact centre, it had a welcoming air to the place. After a doze and a lazy day I walked round the almost alpine feeling wooden buildings in town and down to Laguna Nimez. Obviously not short of rain of late the little info hut was completely flooded but I watched a selection of birds on the water: ducks, black headed swans and pink flamingos! It was a super mix and I hadn´t expected to see the flamingos in the south of the country so it was real bonus for me. It was a nice ending to my route 40 trip and fine welcome to Calafate.

I went on a boat trip on Lag Argentina to visit some of the glaciers in the area and although the weather was somewhat dubious - cold and wet - there was still a lot of incredible stuff to see. Even the morning trip to the port was attractive with a watery sun casting a golden glow over the hills and lake and a rainbow perfectly positioned between the two. Lago Argentina is the largest in the country and we travelled up its northern arm in water which is a very milky pale blue colour thanks to the glacial washed minerals. As we cruised up the lake we gradually saw little lumps of ice in the water then big lumps then big ice-bergs. The colour and texture was amazing: pretty smooth sided lumps; ridges of ice; holey (like Swiss cheese); big jagged points; layered slabs and great bars. One big pitted berg was dirty black but others were pearl white and others various shades of blue from pale to dark. Constantly battered by water and wind the bergs, which are broken from the faces of the glaciers turn and roll in the water as the erosion alters their balance. The darkest blue is on the freshest ice out the water gradually fading to white as air and elements take effect then blackening as dust settles or sediment within is exposed. We then reached the Spegzzini Glacier which was incredible. So blue faced and towering 400 feet high, textured and wide. Another catamaran looked dwarfed as it went along dodging in and out of the bergs, as we did too, giving a better sense of scale. After a while there we moved to the Upsula Glacier. Although not the highest or widest in the National Park it is the largest overall and with the front face having collapsed just the week before there were still lots of huge chunks of ice all around in the water. The misty cloud really prevented us seeing back up the mountains from which it stretches though. We headed round then to Onelli Bay where we docked and were able to walk up through the lovely green lichen treed woods to the lake of the same name. There are three further glaciers on it though I was only able to spot Agazzi and Bolado faintly in the distance. Onelli was hiding for the day! Despite the rain it was a pretty spot with high cliffs, little waterfall, green mossy woods and the milky lake. Heading for home we came across a berg which had turned just minutes earlier. It was so deep blue, the water around so flat and ice filled that it was a bit eerie. It was all so quiet and still - at Spegazzi in particular there was constant cracking and growling but here it was silent. Edging round the newly exposed ice it was wonderful viewing but soon we left and made our way back to Puerto Bandera. I´d enjoyed the trip not least because of the glaciers but also observing the people on board. Mostly Argentinian there was a lovely friendly atmosphere with the mix between old and young being very relaxed and natural with lots of easy cross-conversations going on and mate being sipped and drunk throughout the day by the vast majority (that´s the Argentinian favourite of a herby tea which is packed into tumblers, topped up with hot water regularly and sipped through a straw type filter). I like seeing these traditional customs of a country being maintained and not taken over by internationally available brands.

Having done the boat trip I was looking forward to going to internationally famous Glacier Moreno and I wasn´t to be disappointed. Travelling to the park we got glimpses through the clouds but once we arrived at the park and walked down the paths the glacier was awesome even wirh the icy snow particles blowing through. Tall, wide, multitextured like sliced polystyrene, whipped meringue and marble all at once. The milky blue-grey lake was calm with lumps of ice which had fallen from the leading edge floating around its base. It was almost V-shaped at the front matching the turn of the lake which it eats up. The front is about 50m high and about 4kn wide. The noise too is incredible like great gunshots or blasting of dynamite followed by thundering peels meant it was rarely silent as all the ice fractures cracked and creaked. Great chunks would fall off periodically and crash into thr water creating a little tidal wave effect, then little ice booms would form with the icy water contained within being mirror calm while the lake rippled outside the boundary. The sightseeing boats looked tiny in comparison. Glacier Moreno advances an incredible 2metres per day at thr centre, 40cm at the edges and stretches 180m below the water level. Chunks falling got bigger and more frequent - one clearly sending shock waves strong enough to loosen another section and so on. Pieces breaking underwater would result in great bubbling and spray with ice popping up to the surface eventually forming a little dam. Back in 2004 a dam even reached the shore but eventually water pressure forced its way through creating a tunnel then re-clearing the path a few weeks later. Even as I watched it was amazing how much its appearence changed over the course of the day. Another great experience for me.

On leaving Calafate the bus journey took me over more of the flat barren Patagonian landscape with just a few guanacos, grey foxes, rheas and horses scuttling about or hunched up against the wind and snow blowing through. The wildlife may have been slightly different but it reminded me of a bleak wintery Scottish moor. Finally we reached the slightly run down and ramshackle mining town of Rio Turbio which marked the border back into Chile and then it was only a short drive to Puerto Natales which allowed me to spend a day in Torres Del Paine National Park. It was just magnificent with jaw-droppingly stunning scenery. We had a brief stop at Cueva del Miloden where remains of the now extinct giant sloth like Miloden (it walked on all fours or its hind legs using its thick tail as a kind of stabiliser) were found in the late 1800s. Then it was off through wide grassy valleys with cattle and sheep grazing to the Paine mountains. The towering pillars of the Paine massif were craggy and majestic, and on the bright clear day just a thin ribbon of cloud hung round the summits. With the Andes on one side and the Paine range on the other we stopped at a vivid green lake (the only salt one in the area) and got even better and closer view of the enormous sheer walled crags of the Torres Towers: beautiful, imposing and massive! Moving on we stopped to watch the guanacos. One of the four members if the camel family found in Chile, they are generally sociable animals living in large herds with sentinals on guard duty around the hills on the lookout for pumas. Leaving them and another grey fox which had joined us behind(and after changing another flat tyre, my tour buses are definitely jinxed I reckon!) we skirted round Lagos Sarmiento and Nordenskjold to reach the waterfalls of Salto Grande. With a short walk over moorland with stunning hillside views we got to the river and falls which take the water from the lake Nordenskjold to Lago Pehoe 40m below. A real torrent of milky blue water the spray rose in great clouds, the sun picking out rainbows between the granite walls. It was lovely... and probably as much water as I´ve seen in all other waterfalls put together over the last few months! We had our lunchstop at a camping site on the shores of lake Pehoe. It was idyllic with yet more stunning views. (By now you´re probably getting the gist that I enjoyed the day and took numerous photos which will bore you all sometime in the future no doubt!) The campsite was well laid out with individual shelters and BBQs for each pitch - Chris I thought of you and reckon it´d be a good blueprint if you ever get your campsite on the go! Afterwards we drove through the wider flat valley floor across the expanses of grassland to Lago Grey. Walking through the trees from there took us down to a shingle beach and sandbank which we crossed over and went along the opposite stoney cliffside path to get fantastic views of the lake and the icebergs within it and down to the glacier at the far end. With the dramatic angular and jagged mountains, the ice, the twinkling water, the green hillsides and river it was a super spot to round off our visit to the park. Obviously the clear sunny weather on the day was a bonus but it was truly outstanding scenery, and what was brilliant was that our little tour of 8 people always seemed to be just ahead of other busloads of people so we were able to enjoy everywhere in peace and tranquility, and were leaving places just as the bigger busloads of folk started to arrive. An added bonus! I´d been toying whether or not to detour back into chile and this region but am so so glad I did.

Leaving Puerto Natales I started making my way back across to Argentina and down to Tierra del Fuego via an overnight stop in Punta Arenas. It is a strange mix of a city. Raggedy but busy streets lined with well-worn little properties and shops, but also with signs of past wealth. Big mansions surround the main square and numerous banking institutions line the streets around it. It was quite funny that as the last major town in Chile the place really had an end of the line uniqueness to it but at the same time the central square was like just about every other town square throughout the world and was full of older tenagers hanging out using the statue to hone their skateboarding and BMX skills - even in the rain! From Punta Arenas I caught the bus for Ushuaia and racing along in the pouring rain we got to the little ferry which would take us across the Magellan Strait. With the little deserted slipway, pouring rain and little ro-ro ferry it made me think of Calmac, Skipness and Arran! The crossing took just 15 minutes before we disembarked on the other side and I had finally reached Tierra del Fuego and Isla Grande. Another major milestone for me. We drove through the vast wet expanse of space for the next few hours and it reminded me of Northern Shetland: short yellow tuft grass, no treesm wet, featureless and only slightly undulating. It was a gravel road and we shuddered and shook along rhe windows getting progressvely muddier and muddier until they were completely obscured. With the road not wide enough for two vehicles over cae size we had to slow and slide to the sides when meeting oncoming vehicles - a perhaps surprisingly common occurence. At San Sebastian we crossed the border back into Argentina and onto paved road - apart from one section of ralley ride across more wet mud and gravel where we slid and weaved our way along at a real rate of knots. Finally stopping for fuel in Tolhuin, when we went to leave the bus wouldn't start again!! Fortunately after a bit of head scratching and looking in the engine we got a tow and it sprang into life! Eventually we reached Ushuaia and I had a real lump on my throat. After thinking about it for so long it seemed unreal that I'd actually made it there. It was akin to the feelongs I'd had when I got to Australia for the first time.

I had a brilliant time around the place. There was a friendly relaxed ambience at my hostel and the surrisingly sizeable city itself had a similar laid back feel. With the height of the tourist season past it wasn't too busy yet still had plenty of people around and the locals were constantly waving and greeting each other. It reminded me of Campbeltown of old. The city itself is bounded by the Beagle Channel to the front and lovely snow capped mountains behind. With the autumn colours turning on the trees it really appealed to me and I stayed for a good few days enjoying my visit. And, Is, I even managed to learn a new card game for us to try on my return!

Going on a boat trip om the Beagle channel I was in my element. The guide, called Carla, was enthusiastic and interested and quite apart from pointing out lots of interesting flora and fauna she even helped me with my Spanish and wrote a few notes for me to take away at the end if the trip! On the tour itself we went first to Bridges Island. The sun was blinking on the mountains and it was nice getting a view of the town from the sea. With the calm water I thought of Vancouver and West Coast Scotland. Arriving at the little island the colours, rocks, smell, seaweed, shingly shelly beach, tyres tied to the rocks at the jetty and the calm and air of solitude was all very familiar and homely feeling. We had a short walk to see some of the native plants but the bitter cold wind meant we didn´t linger for long, however as we climbed up onto the rise on the little isldand we stood pretty much in the middle of the channel and looked 90km one way towards the Pacific Ocean, 90km the other way to the Atlantic, and if your eyesight permitted 1000km across the last stretch of Chile was Antactica - as close as I was going to get on this journey of mine! Returning to the boat we passed a shell midden, a remnant from the Yaman people native to the area and dating back 6000 years or so. To counter the cold and wet which meant clothing was of little use as the people had no opertunity to dry the constantly wet skins they lived virtually naked, using only seal and whale blubber to grease their skins as a basic insulation against the elements. They must have been a hardy lot because even with my thermals and a welcomong hot chocolate back on the boat I could feel the cold! Chugging further along the channel there were lots of birds of a variety of kinds including the comical looking flightless steamer Ducks. They skim along the top of the water with a curious running motion and an almost rotational flapping of their wings. Very peculiar and funny to watch! We were then joined by lots of South american fur seals. They raced after the boat like a pod of dolphins jumping and surfing along in the bow wave. They´d race along heads popping up now and then to look how far away we were before almost visibly sighing and stopping to watch as we left their playground and chugged into the distance leaving them behind. After circling Faro Les Eclaireurs, the lighthouse popularly but incorrectly referred to as the lighthouse at the end of the world ( there is another at on Staten Island at the entrance to the channel) guards the stretch up to Ushuaia. Returning to port we spotted rock and king cormorants aplenty and also snowy sheathbills, dolphin gulls and many more. I´m telling you my awareness of different birds has markedly increased since I´ve been travelling. The challenge will be seeing if I remember even half of them in the future! We nosed round more rocky outcrops watching the sealions massed together in a big lazy lump then as we headed for home we were warmed with a local chocolate rum liquer which although typically SA sweet was tasty and pleasantly warming going down the throat and a nice end to the enjoyable trip.

Another place I enjoyed was my visit to the maritime museum, although why its called the maritime museum I don´t know because the maritime section was one hall containing half a dozen small models of old ships and that was about all. The rest of the place was dedicated to the old prison in which it is set and was far more interesting. Ushuaia was chosen as a penal colony for Argentina in the early 1900s and a prison was built at the edge of the then small town, constrycted by convicts themselves who would be transferred from the former military prison on Isla de los Estados. Apparently a real mix of extremely harsh treatment of forced hard labour, shackled prisoners, overcrowding and alledged ill-treatment, there were also a number of quite positive aspects: the jail had a bakery, farm area, other work rooms providing services for both the prison and the town at large, and latterly a hospital. Prisoners could be paid a small wage in return for their work in order to buy additional personal effects. the museum offered stories behind a few of the prisoners as well as outlining some of the work, escape attempts, and life and conditions for the warders and guards who also lived in the complex. A final section covered other famous jails around the world and I was delighted to see one section about Inverary Jail. Yet another connection to home. Outside I walked along the shore front where a couple of big cruise ships had arrived. At the entrance to the pier a woman and her extraordinarily powerful sound system was performing for the benefit of the cruise passengers. Unfortunately any talent she might possibly have had seemed to be distorted in the volume from the amps and she just reminded me of Marguarita Pracatan a la Clive James!!

On my last day I went out to the National Park. Its only km from town but it was a nice drive with the orange tinged trees at the foot of the hills a real contrast with the snow capped mountain tops. I got out at Ensenada Bay which was a lovely spot. It was sheltered, the water was calm, there was a small wooden jetty, the shelly beach, short springy grass, the trees were a mix of green and orangey-red, the sea was a clear dark green colour and even the rocks had a pale greeny hue to them. It reminded me of so many places in Scotland and was just beautiful. I went to the tiny shed on the pier that serves as the most southerly public post office then started out on what was a super day´s walking. The Costera Trail followed the shore of the Beagle channel sometimes right down at water´s edge sometimes back within the forrest that edged it. The little bays were wonderfully scenic and tranquil, the beaches deserted and scrunched nicely underfoot, the mountains towered above it all and the woods were fantastic. Although damp and squelchy underfoot in places the muddy track was mostly over the springy seashore grass or through the orange leaf litter within the trees. Aswell as the orange reds and russets there were still plenty of shades of green. Aswell as the leaves there were the mosses and lichen and the "old man´s beard" hung thick on many of the trees and branches and over the rocks. The path was so lovely and with it being so quiet and peaceful and through so many of the landscape features I love - woods, water, autumn colours - it suited me to a tee. A few rabbits bobbed about and although I heard a few birds I didn´t see many other than a few ducks. The exception was three little birds having a bath beside a little wooden fold. They splished and splashed and then perched on the wood to stare at me before finishing their preenings and flying off. They were really entertaining. I carried on too and after the path turned away from the shore it climbed uphill for a bit before continuing through the woods at the side of the ripio road. When the track finished I followed the road towards Lapataia Bay. Although it had started to drizzle I loved ot. The continuous landscape of little rolling hills, mountains, woods, springy grass, peaty ground, fine rain, milky green reflective water and tussocky bushes was incredible. It was akin to being in Glen affric or so many other coastal highland glens. When I reached Lapataia I had reached the end of Ruta 3 - the highway south from Buenos Aires - and the very Southern corner of Argentina. I felt I really had made it to the end of the earth. I strolled round the boardwalks trying to comprehend how far I´ve come as I waited for the bus back to town to arrive. When it did arrive we returned via the chairlift up to the Martial Glacier so I got a further look round parts of Ushuaia I hadn´t made it to yet and also some more fantastic views down over the city and sea and past some of the old traditionally styled wooden houses and modern grander hotels on the way, and as I was the last passenger on board I got dropped off right outside my hostel which was a bonus too.

I loved my time at the "Fin del Mundo" and could easily have stayed longer. Its the kind of place I think which draws you into its grasp and doesn´t let you go. Its not maybe the most aesthetically beautiful town in the world yet it is in a wonderful setting and has a nice vibe to it. However, I know there are many more places I also want to visit before I have to return to Scotland so I finally took the decision to go the only direction open to me at that point, and headed north.

Travelling in Time

mogsie08-09 — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 23:59:00 GMT

My 12th of March was surely as one of the longest days possible - lasting 40 hours in total. After boarding my flight in Auckland (for once in my life without extra security checks, hallelujah!) We flew for about 11.5hrs before landing about 4.5hrs before we took off! I'd watched our flight progress map with interest until we crossed the date line - yet another first for me. Safely landed at Santiago airport I yet again avoided much bureaucracy and was duly officially stamped into Chile. Entering the arrivals hall took me back to my Russia days, with the same melee of taxi drivers desperately trying to tout for business as there used to be outside the railway stations there. Fortunately I had pre-booked a shuttle bus transfer and so was soon speeding into the city through the similar slightly dusty streets and chaotic traffic and associated horn tooting as I'd experienced throughout much of the first quarter of my wanderings.

Santiago as a city has proved not to be one of my favourites, though by the time of leaving I had become more used to it and was beginning to mellow towards it. Its not the prettiest of cities and there are not of attractions sightseeing wise for me here. It does have one very big thing in its favour though: a metro stop called "Cumming"! With a station so named it certainly can't be a bad city! Having not fully come to grips with the city as I wandered around, I ventured up Cerro San Cristobal. Here a funicular railway climbs at an angle of between 45 and 48 degrees for about 500m until it reaches the top of a hill overlooking the city and surrounds. Looming over it stands a huge statue of San Cristobal guarding the city and acting as a religious shrine for numerous Chileans. I always like to look out on a city from some tall viewpoint to fully appreciate its layout and size and I was certainly able to do that here. It lies in a flat bottomed basin surrounded by some of the towering snow-capped mountains of the Andes, and although a seemingly everpresent light smog hugs the city blurring the outlines of the mountains it was nevertheless a wonderful sight, and I stayed for a while enjoying both the vistas and the relative calm and peace and quiet largely absent from the city below.

While in Santiago I also discovered I've returned to the system in public toilets whereby you exchange your money for your allotted ration of paper. I must commend the Chileans though for being far more generous than the Russians were with their 2 or 3 squares of Izal!!

Leaving Santiago (fortunately after I discovered that the local clocks had gone back one hour overnight marking the end of summer daylight saving time) I took the overnight bus to Pucon (pronounced poo-con not puke-on before some of you start!) and found the Chilean buses to be the best I´ve been on: big comfy reclining seats, complimentary snack and drink, steward service, blanket and pillow provided, a quiet smooth drive and an organised luggage for ticket swap. Needless to say I slept well on board and woke refreshed to the pretty town of Pucon. With mountains all around, the twinkling lake, hot sunshine, a welcoming and friendly hostel, and a laid back in its only little world feel to the town I spent a super few days there. The undoubted highlights were a trip to the local national park and a sunrise climb of the local volcano.

Catching a bus with a couple of other girls from the hostel, it took us up the scenic, narrow, twisty and in part steep gravel road to the entrance of Huequehue National Park. We then spent a super day there walking, chatting and enjoying the lakes. We set off walking, more or less following the Los Lagos trail. It was lovely and peaceful with lush green forest and soft ground strewn with fallen foliage underfoot. Leaving the almost flat calm twinkling Lago Tinquillco behind as we passed through sometimes tall trees, sometimes bamboos, sometimes monkey puzzle trees we collected Piñones ( a kind of pine nut) to snack on. After climbing up passed what were alledged to be waterfalls, though at this time of year there was barely a thimbleful trickling over the rocks, we got lovely views out over the lake to Mt Villarrica in the distance. Climbing yet more over tree roots and up steps we finally reached the crest of the hill before descending to Lago Chico. It was little and greenish and surrounded by dense trees and shrubs and looked beautiful. Further on again we came to Lago Verde. It was very green - certainly living up to its name- with reeds in the water and nestled as it was in a bowl of trees it was very pretty. Some of the numerous monkey puzzle trees had long ago fallen into the water and as they lay decaying in the shallows they looked positively skeletal or like some slumbering alligator waiting to attack its prey. We sat a while on one of the beaches before heading over to Lago el Torro. It was bluer with tall cliffs aswell as the tree clad hills and so we found a spot to have our picnic. As soon as we got our food out the bees, wasps and mosquitoes appeared! We were up and off in a shot and back to our little beach at Lago Verde where we happily whiled away much of the afternoon blethering and enjoying the sun until we had to go back for the bus back to Pucon after a super day.

The day of the climb up Volcan Villarrica I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 3:30. To make matters worse it was the second day in a row I´d had to do it as originally I was to make the climb the day before, but by the time we got to the mountain it was too windy and we had to postpone our attempt. I may get up earlier than I used to now, but 3.30 is way way too early to be fun - especially two days in a row! Having said that, what was to follow the rest of the day more than compensated. Transported to the base of the mountain by bus we all got kitted out with ice-axe, waterproofs, gaitors, crampons, helmets, hats, gloves and goretex "nappy" - more of that later! Still very dark we set out in a crocodile line our headtorches just giving enough light to see where to put our feet. It was soft, sandy and difficult walking as your feet sank into the ground. After about half an hour of walking constantly uphill we stopped, just as the first glimpses of sunlight were beginning to peep round the hillsides. We carried on further up and stopped againas the sun really came up casting a lovely glow and allowing super views from our vantage point down to Pucon and the lake below and of all the mountains round about. Zig-zagging on up the steep mountainside the soft soil and loose rocks made it even more difficult, especially when matched with the steep gradient and my thighs were beginning to protest! Up and up we went until we reached the ice-fields where we donned the gaitors, crampons, helmets and gloves before tentatively making our way up the ice and snow. We had again to zig-zag using our ice axes to anchor us. It took probably a good couple of hours to get over the ice and back to the lava rock. As we went up the loose scree and rocks and boulders it was sometimes difficult to find a path and we relied very much on the guides to keep us right. The rock was a distinctive red black colour and in one section we crossed a river of lava rock from the last eruption of the volcano (back in 1974). It looked a bit like petrified wood. Eventually, slowly, we clambered past the last of the rock-holes, cravasses and scree to finally make it to the 2847m summit. It was magnificent. The views across the mountains stunning, the lake and town far below, and the amazing volcano crater. It was so deep. Almost a perfect circle, sheer sides of orange, grey brown red and green stretching far below. The lava within couldn´t be seen but it could most definitely be heard. Gurgling and spitting and boiling away with great surges as it rushed against the crater walls. A steady line of steam billowed up and the stench of sulphur took your breath away if you got too close. Little pieces of muliticoloured mineral rich rocks twinkled around the lunar-like summit. Just fantastic. Preparing for our descent, aswell as donning the overjackets, helmets gloves and so on we´d discarded in the wake of the heat from the sun we also had the "nappies" to put on. Clipping round our waists and legs these became our personal luges as we slid down snow chutes on our bums using our axes as rudder and brake. Initially a bit daunting it was brilliant fun racing down round corners and over little bumps. A total of 4 slides of varying length and steepness, it was a quick, fun and exhilerating slide down. The only less than positive aspects were the John Wayne-esque walks and ´mildly ebarrassed toddler´ expressions as we tried to empty the excess snow from our nappies between slides - a Huggies seal they had not! But as we slid down dozens and dozens of people were struggling uphill further meriting the early start to avoid the crowds and to miss climbing in the heat of the day. Once clear of the ice we sped down through the sandy earth equally quickly. It was much easier going down, digging our heels in to the ashy sand and with the aid of gravity racing down at a rate of knots: it took me 5 1/2 hours going up and only about 2 coming down! A difficult but rewarding trip and a real highlight for me. It was just fantastic.

My final stop in Chile (for the time being anyway) before heading to Argentina was in Valdivia. It was an attractive enough river city just not quite living up to its billing in my guide book. Two rivers - the Calle Calle and Valdivia converge and the riversides were nice to amble along. With the Valdivia running into the ocean not too far away it still had that lovely fresh slightly salty sea smell at times. The real highlight of the city for me however was the wonderful market. A canopied busy stretch of stalls facing onto each other, one side backing onto the river, it was a real riot of colour and activity. All sorts of produce was sold: fruit, veg, bread, herbs and spices, clothes, plants, and fish of all sorts and types -fresh, smoked, sea urchins, mussels, shell fish, eels - you name it it was there. The fish stalls were alomg the riverside of the market and behind them the birds and sealions were desperately waiting and clambouring onto the decks to get left overs and scraps. It was a real smorgasbord for them and amazing to watch them at their fast food convenience store! With some of the fish being cooked on small fires in the vendors booths there were plenty offcuts being thrown back to the greedy marine crowd behind! One guy even had one sealion right up beside him and was essentially hand feding him! With so much going on it was a fantastic mix of colours smells sights and sounds and a great finale to my first spell in Chile.

Closing Encounters of the Kiwi Kind

mogsie08-09 — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 11:30:00 GMT

I had to get up for a rediculously early ferry crossing back to the North Island because with my time quickly running out in New Zealand I knew I'd have a real whistlestop tour if I was to fit in everything I still wanted to see and do there. Needless to say I've not ticked all the boxes, but I had a pretty good attempt at it!

First stopping off point for me was in Taupo. It sits on the banks of the lake of the same name (the largest in New Zealand) and beside the Waikato River (the longest in New Zealand). An attractive place, I walked along the riverside pathway to the Huka Falls passing the Taupo Bungy spot on the way. I watched (well, squinted through half shut eyes) in a mix of trepidation, nervousness and curiosity as someone made the jump. It's undoubtedly a very picturesque spot: steep sandy coloured cliffs, greenery atop and a wide clear green river curving round below glinting invitingly on the sunny day I was enjoying. BUT, watching the girl jump and bobbing about on the end of her tether as she was lowered to the bottom again afterwards only served to reconfirm my thoughts that it can't be at all good for you, and I'd far rather be stationary while admiring the scenery than have it rushing towards me at 60 or 70 kmh! While I was watching a helicopter had been buzzing around filming events and as I carried on my walk I met more people struggling to run up the hill towards the bungy. It transpired they were part of a "reality" TV weightloss competition programme called "The Biggest Loser". They had to run up from the valley floor, bungy off the cliff and Kayak down the river as part of some tortuous race. I can only imagine how desperate they must be to lose weight and/or be on TV because it seemed a horrendous ordeal to me. I happily left them to it and carried on to the falls which were really very spectacular. Not high, but long and a real cauldron of bubbling white rapids. The noise was incredible and the volume and force of water was equally immense. The river, which not far upstream was almost 100m wide and 4m deep was channelled at that point through the little sheer sided gorge which was just about 15m wide and 10m deep! The force of the water as you can imagime was amazing and a little jet boat which came zooming up the river struggled to hold its position and let its occupents get a close look at the torrent.

The undoubted highlight of my stay in Taupo however was going on what is billed as the greatest day walk in New Zealand - the Tongariro Crossing. Yet again I was blessed with fantastic clear weather for the 19km trek across the volcanic pass, which really allowed me to fully appreciate the spectacular scenery on offer. Including stops it took about 7 hours in total but it was very much split into sections with just two serious uphill slogs, but plenty of good excuses to stop regularly, admire the views and get your breath back! Taken there by shuttle bus you get dropped off at the carpark at one end and(sensibley enough!) picked up at the other end in the afternoon. The first hour was easy walking along the tussocked valley either on well marked track or wooden boardwalk. It was busy with dozens and dozens of people setting out so that hour gave time for the crowds to spread and thin out as people found their own pace. After the first hour, at Soda Springs, the lava rock became more noticeable and started changing colour- becoming darker than previous rocks. The path then climbed up a series of twists turns and wooden steps for the next hour as it went up "The Devil's Staircase". A steep climb I had to stop regularly - purely to admire the views you understand, nothing to do with the fact I was jelly legged and completely out of breath! My excuse is that the steps were too tall for my little legs so it was a bit of a clamber rather than a walk. Finally reaching the top of the climb the track passed the foot of the summit track to Mt Ngauruhoe, an active volcano. I took one look at the gradient of the hill and decided to give that path a miss! Instead I carried on across the dead flat South crater. It looked like it had been ironed flat. Wide and circular, enclosed by the hyge mountains around it, with lumps of solid lava rock dotted about and an occasional tussock of grass and a vivid red colour on some of the hillside rock, it had an extraordinary other worldly feel. Everyone was commenting how it felt like being on the moon or even Mars. On the other side of the crater was the start of the Red Crater ridge. The views were awesome: at about 1600m the vistas across the south crater I'd just crossed, over to Mt Ngauruhoe, up to Mt Tongariro or out over the enormous deep Red Crater and across the wispy cotton wool clouds were absolutely breathtaking. The deep crimson volcanic rock, the black lava solids, the sandy basin floor and brownish patches of bare rock was phenomenal. Like nothing I've seen before. The track clibed again, this time up the red Crater ridge with steep drops on either side before getting to the summit. A sulphury smell hung in the air and pockets of steam rose round about. Sitting at the top the ground was warm from the volcanic activity deep beneath. There was a cool breeze however and although my underfloor heating may have worked its way up eventually it was too slow in taking effect so I edged my way down the steep loose ashy scree to the incredible emerald lakes below. Coloured by the high mineral content they really stood out against the mountain terrain - really like twinkling gems. I sat taking in the sights and smells before continuing across yet another volcanic basin, skirting another lake, before rounding the hill and reaching much more vegetated hillsides with little mountain daisies and alpine iris providing splashes of colour. It was amazing how different the landscape looked so quickly. From there the path descended all the way down the hills past hot smelly springs until it reached the bushline again and the last while was through the forest alongside a babbling stream until getting to the finishing point at the little carpark. An amazing walk and incredibly diverse scenery. It certainly lives up to the billing it gets. On the bus back to town we were trundling along fine until going up a long steep hill about 15 minutes from Taupo we ground to a halt. I couldn't believe that for the third time in NZ I'd ended up on a bus which broke down. Fortunately for me the woman I was sat next to had a phone and called her husband back in Taupo who then came and collected her and I and whisked us back to town. I was more than happy not to have to wait in the hot bus with 50 other sweaty walkers and no aircon until the breakdown people arrived!

Leaving Taupo I had a very quick visit to the east so that at least I could have a quick look at the area even if I couldn't linger - I now had the deadline of my flight to Chile looming close on the horizon. The scenery was very much like Scotland with cattle grazing, deep valleys and multicontoured green hillsides. Napier was a lovely city. Perched on the side of Hawke's Bay it is flanked by several wineries on its inland side and has a great long promenade with gardens playparks and open space behind its stoney beach. There are numerous buildings of Art Deco styling throughout the city giving it a real sense of character. The city had been razed by earthquake then fire in the early 1930's so it was rebuilt at the height of the art deco movement and most of the significant buildings reflect that. Gisborne looked quite nice too, but I had even less time to explore it. It is another beachside town - a surfing city- and also sits on the banks of three converging rivers, including New Zealand's shortest at only 1200metres. Leaving there I had just one more stop, in Rototrua, before arriving back in Auckland.

Rotorua offered a range of attractions, some better than others, and a background odour all of its own! Walking round Kuirau Park is in many ways like strolling round any town park, just with the addition of numerous hot springs, steaming ponds and bubbling mud pools. It was quite strange looking across to clumpd of shrubbery and seeing the clouds of steam rising. At first there was just a faint sulphury smell to accompany the gentle bubbling. As I moved from one area to the next the mud got gloopier and plopped away noisily and one area was particularly stinky ... think very ripe cheese, smoky bacon crisps, sweaty socks and rotten veg all mixed together and left in the sun - RANCID! The largest of the hot reserves was a desert-like mass of mud but with the hot pools steaming round about. The plants on the side were mud strewn where previous eruptions from the geysers had splattered everything. Today nothing was a forceful as that fortunately. Leaving the park I meandered down to the lake. At the aptly named Sulphur bay the water is so low in oxygen and high in sulphur that not only is the colour tainted but no fish and plants can survive there - a real contrast with other parts of the lake. Further on again was anothe rancid smelling pond and an area called "Cameron's Laughing Pool" The chemical reactions there were such that when it times gone by people bathed there to reap the benefits of all the mineral salts they were effected by the fumes in the same way as Laughing gas! They must have been a hardy lot though as there is no way I could put up with the smell long enough to bathe - even a quick sniff was way more than enough, no matter how good for my skin it might be!

One evening I went to a show billed as a traditional Maori evening of music, dance and food. Despite some good bits, overall it was a wee bit of a disappointment: being a real parade of the masses it was a bit like being on a conveyor belt of tourists getting rushed through and out as quickly as possible so the next lot could come. On arrival we were lined up along the banks of the stream which flowed though the venue site as a waka (canoe) of warriers paddled up. When they got out we all trouped along behind and to the big theatre area where a performance of dance and music was staged. It was ok but nowhere near as good as what I'd seen in Waitangi when I was there. After a final impressive Haka the "chief" spoke a little about the traditional tatoo patterns, and that was quite interesting. Those on legs and body generally represent the rivers and seas, while those on the face represent the 4 most sacred or precious birds for the polynesians: the owl, parrot, bat and kiwi. The bat, the only native mammal to Aotearoa, being on the forehead and brow, parrot on the nose, kiwi on the cheeks and owl around the mouth and chin. Tatooing was always an honour earned and usually only done on chiefs, elders or as an award of respect. While his talk was quite interesting I would have been happy for it to be a bit longer, but we were moved on to marquees for our Hangi. A hangi is an oven in the ground heated by fire baked stones and traditionally with leaves covering it where food is baked for feasts. Today for good old health and safety reasons a stainless steel lid was used although hot rocks still heated the pit. The food was delicious, the meat so tender and the veg cooked under the meat so that they benefited from the juices dripping into them. We had chicken and lamb, potatoes, Kumura (a NZ sweet potato) scallop potatoes, corn and salad leaves, coleslaw, red cabbage, stuffing, rice salads, gravies and sauces. It was lip-smackingly good. Afterwards there was pudding: chocolate log, trifle and fruit salad and tea or coffee to finish. A great feast I rolled back to the bus when we were ushered out and taken back to our accommodation!

My final encounter in Rotorua was also my favourite: looking round a captive breeding centre for Kiwis, and finally seeing these elusive creatures living and breathing. The centre is one of 5 captive breeding sites across NZ working to release the young kiwis to the wild and so stopping the long term decline in numbers. Started in 1995 the number of chicks released each yer has grown after a slow start to over 100 each year. This year 128 chicks have hatched - a bumoer year. We started our tour in the incubation room where the eggs are first brought. A kiwi egg is about 25% of the size of the adult bird - huge! The generally life pairing birds live separate lives and when she is going to lay her egg the female goes to the male's burrow and leaves him the egg, never visiting it or the chick again. She will return with a second saved egg she develops after the first hatches, but thats it! The male kiwi, or the centre in this case, cares for the egg for about two months until it hatches. All behaviour is inate with no teaching from a parent so the centre can provide chicks with a food mix of offal, cat biscuits, veg and a side order of bugs and wait as they learn to eat and start to grow. We watched a newly hatched chick sleeping, tip of its long beak tucked under what would be its wing if it had one, but didn't see one feeding. After about 3 weeks the chicks are transferred to outdoor enclosures to further grow and develop and once they reach 1kg from an average birthweight of c350g they can be microchipped and released into the wild. We saw three of the long term residents in their inside-outside runs. Foraging around snorting and scratching they were fascinating to watch. Very like wekas in appearance really, they are very confident and self-assured in mannerisms. When we had to leave them to their scuffling we went through to a little information room to learn more facts and figure about these amazing creatures. They are so unbird-like in so many ways its quite bizarre. I really enjoyed my visit and was delighted to finally see these elusive New Zealand icons before heading back to the big city in readiness for the off.

In Auckland I managed to meet up with the Barnes family (Gus's friends from his visit out here) and had a lovely meal,lots of friendly chatter and banter, a nice walk around the beautiful parkland just next door to their home, and was entertained by their two cats Jim and Steve. It was the ideal way to round off what has been a very quick three months or so here in New Zealand. Before I came numerous people had said to spend most time in the South Island and less in the North, but having been here now I wouldn't share that sentiment. Both are super places just in different ways. The scenery and wildlife in the south is fantastic and not to be missed, but, the people and culture of the north is just as fascinating. In some ways its like two countries in one, and if possible both should be given equal weighting on any trip down here. Ah well, here endeth my lesson, next stop Chile!

My Foxtrot to Hogwartz

mogsie08-09 — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 23:59:00 GMT

Waving farewell to Punakaiki I travelled down to Franz Josef, the home town, though town is maybe stretching the point a little, for one of the famous glaciers which come down from the Southern Alps through the temperate rainforest to almost reach the coast. I had been recommended a day walk which offered spectacular views of the glacier from the hills opposite and although the weather was a bit murky with some blue sky visible I reckoned I'd give it a go and caught a shuttle bus to the start of the track. A well constructed gravel path led up the hill though deep forest of Rimu, Rata and Totara trees, then became a rougher track as it started to climb yet further up the hill. It was nice walking through the fresh greenery with vines and branches criss-crossing the way. Before long I got a little glimpse of the glacier through the trees. A big mass of bluey-greyish white it was certainly quite impressive looking and it was just like someone had pressed a pause button to stop the torrent of ice flowing down the hillside. Continuing up the zig-zag path ducking under thorny vines (yes, even I had to duck!) and clambering over fallen trees the rain started to get heavier. Fortunately the strong tree canopy was protecting me from the worst of the rain but I could hear the rapid patter and splatter all around. The power of the 7metres or so of rain this area gets each year was evident as I passed a couple of lanslips which had left scars on the hillside. Eventually I reached the clearing that was Christmas Lookout and I turned to view the glacier in great expectation. Well, I could see why it was called Christmas lookout: it was nothing but a great white expanse in front of me. Unfortunately it was of mist and low cloud, however, and there was no indication of a valley out there, let alone any mountains or, heaven forbid, a glacier! There was absolutely no point going further so I returned to the bottom of the track, noting that even the view from my first lookout had now disappeared aswell, and the rain got heavier and heavier still. I still had loads of time before the next shuttlebus was due so once back at the road I crossed over and went down another path until it reached a bouncing bridge over the river. I had been able to hear the raging torrent through the trees and stood on the bridge watching with awe the powerful force of the river racing by. It was an incedible pale grey, almost milky, colour as it washed its ice and gravel downstream. Biggish chunks of ice were hugging the riverbank like ice-cubes in a drink. The rain by this time was relentless and I squelched back to the road to await the bus. Luckily the driver took pity on me as she was heading up the hill and stopped to let me get on and drip all over her bus rather than make we wait for her downhill return! By the time I got back to the hostel I was never so glad to have a bowl of the watery and peppery, but hot, rice and veg soup they lay on each evening. The weather forecast for the next day was for more of the same so I moved on to try my luck in Fox Glacier about half an hour's drive further south. Still drizzling rain, but a lot better than it had been, and with a higher cloud base I got booked onto a Foxtrot (A guided glacier walk... you didn't really think me with my two left feet had gone dancing did you?!) Getting kitted out with waterproof jackets, trousers boots and crampons we were taken by bus from the settlement to the glacier car park. We trudged along the track then down onto the river bed beside the milky grey creek. Our guide, Matias tried to explain the phenomenon of glaciers (particularly the temperate ones of NZ) to us, and finally I think I'm getting the gist: The huge volume of precipitation coming from the Tasman Sea falls as snow in the high mountains of the Southern Alps (formed by two tectonic plates rubbing together - one sliding under the other pushing up the landmass). Huge bowls in the ranges allow for an enormous build up of snow which is compressed into ice as more and more snow layers fall on top of it. The force from the weight above, and the effects of gravity, means this mass of ice begins to be pushed down the valley helped by the lubrication of the river below it and the other creeks which feed into the valley meaning it moves relatively quickly. The front face of the glacier gradually crumbles and melts as it goes but continued snow deposits and build up from behind ensures the glacier itself remains pretty much a constant size. Dependant on climatic conditions sometimes the glaciers will be advancing and other times they'll be receding. Presently the NZ glaciers are advancing. They are pretty young and fast moving in geographical terms, the central ice being just a few hundred years old. As we neared the terminal face you could see it was full of caverns and caves and the upper surfaces were quite dirty in appearance thanks to the dust, grit and mud washed onto it on a daily basis. We trekked up the riverbed and across the little riverlets before starting on the ascent of the hillside and crossing onto the ice itself. we zig-zagged up a steep staircase of stone and wooden steps climbing about 200m above the valley floor. Once on it you appreciated better the massive size and expanse of ice and with lots of crevices and wind formed peaks it looked just like the icing on a christmas cake! The range of colour was there too. Of course the ice was clear when you looked at a chink in isolation but at times it had that distinctive ice-blue hue and at other times just looked dirty brown. The texture varied a lot too - the fissures were absolutely smooth sided whereas the exposed faces were far more crystalised and in places slushy. We could also see where the heat absorbed by rocks and stones in the ice had cused a melting round about it leaving the stones sitting exposed on a pillar of ice. We wandered around for a while the guides using their axes to cut out little steps for us if it seemed to get too sheer and slidey, but finally we had to retrace our steps and make our way back to the valley floor. At the bottom some people were spotted way over directly under the face of the glacier, well away from the marked path and just where two tourists were killed by falling ice a few weeks previously, so the guides went racing over angrily to "give them a good talking to". We could hear the shouts as we continued walking back to the bus so I reckon they were left in no doubt of the stupidity of their actions. It was a great afternoon and Matias, who hails from Argentina, gave me info about a glacier in Patagonia to visit so hopefully I'll have another chance to do some icewalking in the not too distant future.

Leaving Fox behind as I headed to Wanaka the next day, the clouds finally disappeared allowing a quick glimpse of Mt Cook (New Zealand's tallest) as we travelled south and up and over the Haast Pass and its aquamarine river below before descending to the eastern side of the alps. It was instantly noticeable how much drier the east is compared to the west, sheltered as it is from the rains brought from the Tasman Sea. The hillsides were now bare dry grass rather than the temperate rainforest of before. Before long we reached the town of Wanaka which sits at the foot of the hills at the far end of the lake of the same name. My hostel sat a little bit up the hill and had great big picture windows which faced across the lake providing beautiful views on a sunny day. Most of the time I was there the weather wasn't brilliant but it was fine enough for general wanderings, and when the sun did come out it was a nice place to spend some time. The hills around the town are high and some have lovely corries and ridges on them, but, to me they were a peculiar looking colour. Most of the groundcover is grass based and it's been sun-baked over the summer to a strange washed out looking pale browny-green yellow shade. To my eyes that generally stopped them looking as magnificent as mountains can be. Having said that the morning I left they did look particularly nice: a bright clear day, a ribbon of white cloud hung along some of the hilltops draping down in front of others so that their peaks and crags stuck out above it and with nice reflections cast onto the lake. As I chatted with some people we watched as a paraglider was towed along the length of the lake and back. Dispatching his towrope as he approached the land again he circled a couple of times to lose height but he still soared across the marked landing area and road to land in the little park beyond. When the next one went up and came back dropping his tow-rope he seemed to circle really sharply and lost a lot of height then a second parachute opened but he still dropped quickly into the icy-cold lake. When the wee boat went to fetch him there was a whole lot of laughter coming floating across the lake towards all us spectators, but I don't think either of the flights would have done much to encourage anyone toying with the idea of having a go! I left them to it and went to catch my bus to Queenstown. En route we passed a lot of fruit orchards, several vinyards, old gold mining works, and Kawarau bridge - the original bungy jumping spot - and when we reached Queenstown I found a much prettier place than I imagined. Most people I'd met previously had said to spend only a short time in Queenstown, as it was so commercialised, and more time in Wanaka so thats what I did, however of the two I think I prefer Queenstown. I saw it on marvelously clear sunny days which helps, but the mountains stand out sharply and craggily over the town. The range is called the Remarkables and they live up to their name. Much rockier than the hills above Wanaka they definitely look like proper mountains! Lake Wakatipu is the huge body of water which the town hugs, and although its a busy place there is plenty of nice parkland and stonework around the town to give it a bit of character, and even though its the bungy jumping and thrill ride capital of NZ (if not the world), there is still plenty for non adrennalin junkies like myself to enjoy. Walking through the park later I unwittingly crossed the frisbee-golf course it contains! I might have given it a go but you have to bring your own frisbee and that's one thing I don't have with me. Instead I went to the otherside of the park peninsula and sat for a while admiring the views. The lake was lapping on the shore, and with dry grasses to the front, forest behind, high mountains and little wooded islets on the lake it was really picturesque and also reminded me of west coast Scotland. As the sun set there was a wonderful warm red tinge to all the colours - beautiful.

When the time came for me to leave for my next port of call - Te Anau - I was first to get picked up by the shuttlebus and somehow we got onto the topic of old cars and the driver said he'd just finished restoring three old Morris Minors. When I said I'd always wanted a Morris Traveller he really perked up and told me he had one of them too. By the time everyone was on board the minibus was full and after a lot of juggling of seating arrangements I somehow ended up crammed onto the front seat between the driver and a local guy getting a lift back with his bike to where he'd left his car when setting out on an 80km cycle run earlier in the day. It was really only a 3/4 size seat in the middle with not much legroom, even for me, so it was a bit of a squash all round especially as the cyclist had hurt his knee and was trying to stop it seizing up! He turned out to be really good company though and there was plenty of banter and laughter along the way, and he was certainly more communicative than the driver. He chatted quite a lot about the area we passed through - a twisty lakeside road as we climbed through the mountains and down the valleys and it reminded me a bit of the road back from Skye towards Invermoriston. We passed the most inland spot on the South Island (not that anywhere is far from the sea here), before going through Mossburn near where Kiwi guy farmed (3000 sheep, several hundred deer and a few hundred dairy cattle!) dropping him off soon afterwards. It was then just a short drive to Te Anau where getting off at my hostel the driver asked for my cellphone number. He was the wrong side of 60, no oil painting (Deirdre, think of some of our "polling day specials" and you'll have the gist!), and not even a Morris Traveller made him interesting!! I was more than happy to say I didn't have a phone... now if it had been the hunky cyclist it may have been a different story!

I had two great days out while there: a cruise on Doubtful Sound and Kayaking on Milford Sound. The road to Milford is a scenic one and passing through the Eglinton Valley as the sun rose the mountains looked lovely silhouetted in the distance. There's really three sections to the road: the farmed valley, then forests before crossing The Divide (that's the watersheed point crossing the Southern Alps), and finally the steep rocky and rugged mountains. When we got to Milford we met up with some more kayakers, got kitted out in thermals and waterproofs, allocated a paddle-mate and launched our boats. I was paired up with a Frenchman called Vlad and alonside us were his two mates and another couple who'd come through from Te Anau with our guide, Ollie, and me. Launched onto the virtually flat calm water we paddled out the channel into the fiord itself, round the edges of some of the little bays, across the sound and back along the coastline until coming back across the main boating channel and finishing up in the deep water basin from whence we'd started. The scenery was oustandingly beautiful and just as I've seen in pictures and postcards but didn't dare hope would be possible in reality. With such calm water and barely a cloud in the bright blue sky the mountains rose majestically and almost vertically from the sea. In every direction you looked there were more: tree clad on some faces, rugged grey rock faces and ridges on others, and snow and glaciers capping yet more. The 1692m Mitre Peak was the highest around the fiord, and very distinctively angular, it was impressive and beautiful looking from all directions and is classed as the second highest sea cliff in the world apparently. Around the shoreline of the fiord little creeks emptied into the bays and coves, and seals basked on the rocks or swam apparently also enjoying the fine day. As the tour boats chugged by their wake would gently buffet us, or Vlad would lurch around wildly in the boat trying to take photos seemingly unconcerned that each time he did that I had to lunge in the opposite direction to stop us going for an early bath! I'm sure the passengers on the boats must have been having a good laugh watching our antics. The only irritating aspect of the day were the numerous sightseeing planes buzzing overhead in a seemingly endless parade and breaking the peace and quiet we all enjoyed during the short lulls between flights. Heading back to shore we paused at the 164m high Bowen Falls before fighting the waves and spray racing to get back across the now choppy channel between boats entering or leaving the harbour. Back on dry land we started back to Te Anau stopping for sightseeing at a couple of points along the way including at "The Chasm" where a forest path allowed lovely views of the glacial mountain ranges on its way down to a raging torrent of water which was forced into a narrow gorge and down into a geep gully. The sound of the water was heard far before we saw it. After stopping at another pretty enough but not outstanding lake we made to set off again and the van wouldn't start - the battery was flat. After unhitching the trailer with the kayaks and a failed attempt to bumpstart it by rolling down the hill we set about trying to push it to see if we could have any luck, but no! By this time some other tourists stopped to help (only the 3 of us pushing the van was good exercise so their assistance was much welcomed!) and then Ollie tried to flag down another tourist bus but it barely slowed let alone stopped. With no phone reception one of the tourists gave the three of us a lift back to town and phoned from there for someone to go to help Ollie and the stranded bus. An eventful end to a brilliant day.

The cruise to Doubtful Sound was equally enjoyable but also very different. Transferred by bus to Manapouri it was then onto a little boat to be taken up the lake of the same name to its far end. Getting out it was back onto a bus again and a quick trip down a narrow 2km long twisting tunnel to a Hydroelectric power station before travel up and over Wilmott's Pass to Doubtful Sound. The powerstation detour was a bit strange and slightly out of context with the rest of the trip but I guess it was included as the sound is where the water from the scheme is pumped back into. It was just as we reached the very top of the pass that the cloud lifted, as if by magic, to leave a perfect blue sky and stupendous views down the legth of the sound, though as we were reminded it (like Milford Sound) is not really a sound at all but a Fiord! Whichever it was it looked magnificent. It twists in the middle, is relatively wide and bordered by tall mountains shaded mainly green but with some grey and snow capping to be seen. Reaching the bottom of the pass we transferred to our second boat of the day and spent the next few hours chugging round the Sound. The dark surface water is largely freshwater thanks partly to the outflow from the hydro scheme but also due to the volume of glacial freshwater flowing into it. As it gets deeper the salinity increases. Its a larger wider body of water than Milford and the mountains, though equally stunnungly beautiful, are much more rounded in appearance and don't rise as near vertically. The trees and ferns cling to the granite and hardstone rock hills at incredible angles - seeming to defy gravity! As we sailed we saw one of only three or four permanent waterfalls tumbling into the sea. The others come and go quickly after rainfall sometimes apparently forming spectacular curtains of water as it tumbles over the edges. We aso watched a huge colony of NZ Fur seals basking swimming and playing - seemingly performing for us as they rolled, tumbled and waved from the water. Turning into an arm of the fiord we reached one of the other permanent waterfalls. It cascaded in stages from way above us looking just like a piece of string in the distance before splitting into white torrents and then wide gentle sprays which, by the time we nosed in underneath, not only showered anyone not well undercover but made us appreciate just how tall and high the original fall was. Wonderfully beautiful and impressive. As we headed back at the end of the cruise we were joined by 4 or 5 dolphins which swam and surfed in the waves all around us. It was a super finale to a spectacular day. I certainly struck it very lucky on my visit to fiordland- seeing it in some of the best weather possible.

My luck with the weather ran out as I travelled south and across to Stewart Island. I'm glad I'm a reasonable sailor because the Foveaux Strait was windy as we made our way across on the little ferry and as we lurched about in the rolling waves, spray battering against the windows, it was all to much for many on board! When we did reach the settlement of Oban I was happy to find that the tarpaulins, which cover the crates of luggage carried on the open rear deck, were obviously in good nick and the bags were still dry! I'd had plans of doing lots of walking and kiwi spotting while on the island but the wet, cold and windy weather somewhat curtailed my exploits, limiting me to a few short walks and so not venturing as far from the main settlement as I first intended. What I did see reminded me very much of Scotland: the rugged coast, the little bays and hills, rough grazing along the shore and croft-like smallholdings. I also had a laugh to myself at one point when I rounded a corner to find an old old bakelite type phone nailed to a tree with a phone directory hanging from another nail beside it, a wooden garden bench underneath and a piece of corrugated tin tacked over the whole lot to provide a bit of shelter - modern communication very much Stewart Island style! Deciding not to go on a cold and wet nighttime search for kiwis, I found a trip to the fish and chip cart a far more satisfying option! The blue cod I had was fantastic - really moist, fleshy and tasty. Picking from their menu I'd noticed they even offered oysters but, Jackie, Douglas, somehow I wasn't convinced that battered oysters'n'chips would be as good as those we'd enjoyed(?) in Glasgow so gave them a miss! When it came time to leave the island the weather was even wetter and windier than on the way across. Halfmoon Bay was choppy so I knew the strait would be worse. A little late as the staff battled the elements to load the boad we headed out and hadn't gone far before we really started getting buffeted about and the boat engulfed bu waves and spray. It was a real roller-coaster feeling as we rose and dropped into the troughs. The young skipper was good though and was obviously steering us through the worst of it as best he could - turning us this way and that to minimise the pummelling. Needless to say it was all to much for half the passengers and the usual placitudes of "just look at the horizon" didn't help much when you couldn't find a horizon though the walls of water! There were lots of relieved looking faces when we reached dry land again and caught the transfer bus back to Invercargill.

I had a bus journey to Dunedin booked which went through the Catlins - another scenic area of the south-east, but with the rain and mistiness it was a wee bit of a wash-out! However, we did still manage to spot a lone yellow-eyed penguin, a couple of sealions, lots of seals, some petrified trees and stopped at a fast flowing waterfall so all was not lost. With so much rain the waterfall was more like an overflowing cappuccino it was so muddy brown thanks to all the mud and tannins in the river. By the time I arrived in Dunedin at the hostel - called Howartz - I was cold, tired and still a bit wet. As soon as I got inside and found it warm, comfy and friendly though I knew it was a magical place. No sorting hat was required for the allocation of room in this spacious rambling building, but as my corridor was painted scarlet and gold I reckon I got the right one nonetheless!

Dunedin didn't generally feel as overtly Scottish to me as it's billed. Maybe its different for non-scots but it still felt very much like New Zealand to me, although certainly going just by the streeet names it could have been mistaken for Edinburgh. I visited my now customary haunts when reaching a different city ie a museum and botanic gardens and enjoyed both. Our visits coinciding, I also managed to meet up with Maureen and Helen which was brilliant. Meeting at their hotel we wandered along Princes Street towards the central octogen and found the new intake of Otago University students assembling for the party finale of their orientation week. Not dressed in the obligatory togas of the students we opted for a lovely meal in a nearby bar instead! We certainly made the right choice as apparently the toga party descended into chaos, trouble and controversy. Meanwhile, not only did we have a lovely meal (roast lamb, kumara (a type of NZ sweet potato) and salad for me, and Salmon for M & H with a super Hokey-pokey cheesecake shared between us for pudding (hokey-pokey being a bit on a NZ institution and kind of a cross between toffee-fudge and crunchie)), we also had a great blether, and needless to say a few laughs too. It was lovely to catch up and I really enjoyed the evening. Thank you both, it was great to see you. We managed to reconvene the next morning for part two before the ladies carried on to the next point of call on their tour and I joined what was a fantasic wildlife watching trip. Collected from Hogwartz we made our way out of Dunedin towards the Otago peninsula and stopped at a lookout on the hill above the harbour, getting great views down to Dunedin city, across to Port Chalmers (the deep water port for the city)and out towards the ocean. The rolling green hillsides were ro reminiscent of Scotland it was bizarre. Leaving there we drove across to, and around, Hooters Inlet spotting harriers, pukeko, stilts and very striking yellow faced plovers along the way before coming to Taiaro Head and the only mainland breeding colony of Royal Albatross in the world. Going into the centre we saw a short film and got little talk about the birds. One of the (if not the)largest, but not heaviest, of all flighted birds the albotross can be up to 1.2m in length with a wingspan of well over 3m. The egg weighs about 0.5kg and is abouth the size of a couple of tennis balls. After being incubated for about 11 weeks the chick will take several days to pip out the egg. Once hatched the parents will take it in turn to feed and guard it as it grows: by 2 weeks old it'll weigh about 2kg, 3kg by three weeks, and can grow up to about 9kg before it fledges. The parents would then feed it less and make it walk about more so that it tones up as it loses its down and develops its feathers to fledge at 7 or 8 months. For the next 5 or 6 years it will remain at sea until it returns to land to breed. Albotross are generally life pairers and can live for 50 or 69 years. Currently at Taiaroa there are c160 birds and this year there have been 20 chicks. With all that info imparted we went up to the observation room to watch them. As we went up some came soaring overhead - silent and graceful. They soar, rarely flapping their enormous wings, at usually no more than c30m above water or land. Swooping around the hillside like hanggliders they were mesmerising. By the time we got to the obs room we could see 3 or 4 nest sights with the parents carefully guarding their chicks. Their faces seemed to have smiley expressions and in flight they even look aerodynamic. It was wonderful watching them but after a while we had to move on. Crossing very Scottish looking grassy farmland we got to Papanui beach. I'd thought our driver looked like a slightly younger Gordie and when we reached our private viewing beach and he got out to open the gate I realised even his gait and stature was similar. So Gordie, if ever you discover you've a long lost NZ cousin I can tell you he's living in Dunedin! Anyway, we wandered down to just above the rocky shoreline and saw dozens and dozens of fur seals dozing, feeding their young, frolicking in the pools and swimming and cavorting about. It was lovely to watch them - the young enjoying their playgroup and the mums keeping watch from the sides! We moved round to the sandy bay further round the corner and almost immediately saw some yellow-eyed penguin on the beach. One of the rarest of the 18 breeds of penguin they swim and feed all day then come ashore late afternoon waddling up onto the grassy flaxen banks to nest and rest. W saw at least 20 parading around, preening and resting on the sand before making their way up the hillside. The recent rain had washed out little sand creeks with "cliff" edges and it was funny watching as they tried to jump up the sand banks rather than walk just a little further to the flatter areas: being creatures of habit they like to use the same routes each day rather than adapting to the conditions! Once on the hillside some of the plder chicks were trying to find parents to feed them but not having much success - the parents were adamant they were big enough to fend for themselves now and needed no more from them. it was fun viewing. Also on the beach were about 6 sealions: 1 female (very unusual to see); 1 adult male with a youngster beside him, and 3 other males two of which were much smaller than the huge dominant lion king strutting his stuff after waking from his slumbers. Another super sight we watched as they slept, scratched and stretched and had a little bit of a posturing scrap amongst themselves. A growl from "big=daddy" soon shut the youngsters up though! It was a fantastic few hours of very varied wildlife viewing and a fantastic trip. As darkness fell we returned to the city a happy and contented bunch.

Before leaving the south I just had time to go up Baldwin Street which is apparently the steepest residential street in the world according to the guiness book of records. NZ people and places do like to claim the worlds longest largest smallest, most ... quite a lot however with the same claim then being made somewhere else so who knows. It was very steep though so its certainly possible. I was extremely grateful of the seat and drinking fountain at the top - definitely the best placed in NZ! The walk down was definitely less exhausting than the climb up but not much easier overall as I struggled to keep my balance on the steep decline. I definitely wouldn't want to drive up or down it on an icy day.

And with that my trip round the South Island was just about complete. I left the next day and headed straight back to Picton, with an overnight stop in Christchurch along the way, to await my ferry back to the North Island. It was a quick two months in the South Island, and yet again really enjoyable. I really can't believe the good fortune I've been having on this journey - a number of folk have asked if I've had any problems, disappointments or horrible places and I really can't think of any. I just keep my fingers crossed, flip Andy and Isobel's lucky penny, and hope that that happy state can continue as long as I can!

Mrs Mop Goes to Punakaiki

mogsie08-09 — Sun, 8 Feb 2009 12:35:00 GMT

The two weeks I spent in Punakaiki passed really quickly. I was working at Te Nikau Retreat, as part of a group of 4 or 5 "wwoofers" (originally an anacronym for Willing Workers on Organic Farms, the term is now used for most exchange workers) cleaning the various cabins and lodges which make up the complex, and on a rotational basis baking the day's muffins and bread which we sold to the guests. We worked for the four hours between 10 and 2pm and also doing the early shift when it was your baking day. Eating together it was the bakers duty to cook the evening meal for the group and for Lisa (the manager) and/or James (asst. manager) with that person then excused from the dishes and tidying up afterwards. Baking my own bread it something I definitely want to continue when I get home. It was so easy and relatively quick to bake a batch of four loaves and so nice to enjoy "proper" bread again rather than the cheap and nasty tasteless budget stuff I've been making do whith while backpacking. Nice bread is one of the things I really miss (wouldn't you just know my list of things I miss would include food!). While I was there there was a good mix of helpers from different countries and we had lots of laughs - some intentional and others less so! Working at Te Nikau also confirmed to me how thoughtless and inconsiderate some people are. They seem to reckon that check-out times don't apply to them and that the cleaners will wash up all their dishes for them if they just leave them lying. It also leaves you wondering how some people manage to find the way out the front door never mind to a foreign country! Fortunately though most people were nice, friendly, and reasonably tidy which made life much easier.

Nestled in amongst a forest of Nikau palms, ferns, flax, broadleafs, Keikei vines, beech trees and others, the complex was in a wonderful situation. The range of shades of green was just incredible. The icing on the cake, though, was the fantastic coastline. Just five minutes walk through the trees took you to a stunning stretch of shore. Steps lead from a flat bluff top down the rocks and onto a shingle beach. Great limestone washouts overhang the back of the beach with ferns flax and trees reaching right to the egdes - even hanging over with mosses and ferns dangling precariously. Water drips here and there like mini waterfalls over the edges and from the roofs of the tunnel caves and overhangs. Scrambling across the stoney beach, under the tunnel of rock you cross over more stone outcrops from one bay to the next. At times the limestone was polished smooth into great flat beds, othertimes it was quite dimpled and others again it was absolutely brittle honeycomb like with so many holes and indentations. In the flats there were lots of little rockpools covered in seaweed and tiny black mussels. All the while huge white crested waves come rolling in from the Tasman Sea. Simply beautiful and mesmerising. I could watch the sea and enjoy the scenery for hours on end given half a chance. There are meant to be fossils and penguin burrows along the shore too but we didn't find them on our searches. The sunsets were wonderful though, as I'm sure you can imagine, and on several occasions we'd race down to watch the sun going down and always there was a lovely glow, although often accompanied by cloud so we wouldn't quite see the sun falling directly into the sea.

Just a couple of kilometres along the road were "The Pancake Rocks" which are billed as the star attraction for that section of the West Coast. The rocks are a range of very high stacks and promontaries of limestone layered and weathered through a process known as stylobedding into strange formations looking as if one flat rock has been placed atop another and another and so on. Its reputed to resemble stacks of pancakes hence the name, but I can't say I'd have come up with the same title if it had been left to me. At one point there was a set of three formations which were shaped like some kind of tiger or similar animal facing up to a couple of warriors. I had felt a bit blase about the rocks before I arrived thinking "I'm sure they'll be quite nice, but ..." However, they are amazing - pretty, rugged, huge and intriguing all in one. (Though you can easily spend more time at "my" bit of coast!!) Even the pathway down to the pancake rocks was lovely: stone walls leading to a walkway of flax, fern, cabbage trees and so on. There were deep narrow gorges with little pools where even at low tide the water crashed in and around with a tremendous power. You definitely hear the sea before you seeit or the rocks. At a stormy high tide the blow-holes would be incredible. Needless to say I visited them a few times over the fortnight, even though I did manage to embarrass myself the first time: I was taking photos and turned to get someone to take a photo of me, and here was a couple I'd met the day before in Greymouth so I commented as such. They didn't say much despite having been very chatty the day before, though I did think to myself how much less pronounced the woman's accent seemed than the day before, but they took the picture and we walked on our separate ways. When I was back at the visitors centre they came in again too and the woman asked again where it was we'd met. I reminded her but she looked confused and said she didn't think so. Oh yes, said I assuredly, the penny still not dropping, and wittered on about where we were and what we'd seen. Then the husband chipped in - "but we've not been to Greymouth yet, we're just heading there now". It was a different couple altogether! I felt a fool, but in my defence, and as I told them, they definitely have doppelgangers! They left giggling, and I reckon they were probably still chortling to themselves by the time they reached Greymouth!

Some of the walks along the local creeks and rivers were nice too. On one occasion Tifenn, one of the French wwoofers, and I followed the track alongside the Poraruri River which was lovely. The river was beautifully clear, the cliffs and trees towered up on either side with the sun shining in every so often as the course of the bluffs allowed. The rande of ferns made for a super range of shades of green and without the direct sun it was pleasantly cool. In some places trees were contorted across the path making twisted archways and many of the treetrunks has mosses attached so that even they were green. Also, in a couple of places great lumps of rock, much of it the layered variety but not all, created little tunnels and obstacles for the path to weave through. At one point we were able to get down the banking to the riverside proper and its super stoney bed. Not overly wide it was nevertheless reasonably deep in the middle and a few kayakers were making their way upstream. reaching a T-junction on the path Tiffen turned back having done the next section before but I carried on. The next section was quite different. She had described it like a fairytale forrest and I could see what she meant. Heading up and away from the river the damp muddy track was carpeted with fallen leaves, the woods were more openly and evenly spaced with beech trees and the narrow path meandered round in a real pictuire book way. Peaceful, it was just the bellbirds and cicadas to create a bit of gentle background noise. I crossed little wooden bridges over two or three little streams before the path descended again (not that it was ever hugely high or steep) and rejoined a gravel road in more open grassland. The Punakaiki River crossed the path and I had to take off my socks and shoes to paddle across at the shallowest point I could find. The water was just pleasantly cool but the stones were slippy and uncomfortable to walk on and even at that shallow crossing point the water came up to my knees. so I had to be careful. I must admit I thought back to dad wading across the river at Glen doll last October. Once I was safely across the road passed through rough grassland where a few horses were grazing before rejoining the highway about a km south of the pancake rocks. I followed it back to the retreat enjoying the views and the splashes of colour from the hortensia and crocosmia along the verges (bet you never imagined green fingerless me would know those plant-names!!). All in all a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

Another bonus of staying at Te Nikau was that Lucie, another french wwoofer, spoke Spanish and had lived in Santiago for a couple of years. She duly gave me regular spanish lessons and by the time she left she reckoned I'll survive ok so long as I keep practising. There'll certainly be no long conversations but I should know enough to get by and ask for a bed and food at least! Te Nikau was that kind of place - it seemed that if you really needed or wanted something it would turn up there. One person found someone to give yoga lesson, another conservation work, another carrot cake recipes, me Spanish lessons and so on. There were really only two drawbacks to living there: one was the sandflies and the other the Wekas. Sandflies are totally annoying little beasties which are constantly around in huge numbers and bite away with a nip that itches for days afterwards - worse than west coast midgies! The only small consilation is that being slightly bigger they are easier to swat and take your revenge on by ensuring they'll never bite again! (see what a ruthless streak they bring out in me!) The Wekas are ckeeky brown flightless birds, also known as woodhens, that scavenge constantly for any scraps they can find so you have to keep chasing them out the house. It was just like being at Bayfield and shooing the hens out the kitchen. Fortunately the wekas are just brazen rather than troublesome, although the time one got into Te Ruru just after I had finished cleaning it and left "deposits" all through the house I was all set to roast it for tea. It will never know how lucky it was for it that Lisa and James are vegetarians!

Most evenings we ended up playing silly pictionary type games, Who am I?, or something similar (we'd no TV, limited radio reception, a scratched collection of old LP's and CD's, and a very dodgy and tempremental speaker connection for ipods/MP3 players), but on a Friday night James does a radio programme on the local community station so on my last Friday Jo, Arnaud and myself went down for a listen (and James wanted Arnaud to play some of his French music collection). We had to go to the radio shack to listen as transmission range is only 2-3km and we couldn't get it at Te Nikau! With the three of us and 5 wwoofers from the other hostel in the area coming down James reckoned we'd probably almost trebled his usual listening audience - Pancake Rocks FM is no MFR!! Indeed it would aspire to reach the dizzy heights of even the bootstraps of Keith Community Radio, but it was pretty cool nonetheless!!

When I finished working I stayed on an extra night as a normal guest and used the day to go to a brilliant knife making day. I got picked up from Te Nikau and driven down to homestead of Steve and Robyn Martin at Barrytown. There were eight of us there the day I went and we all came away with super knives by the time we left. Steve teaches, helps with and oversees the knifemaking, with Robyn assisting him, preparing our lunch, taking us for an after lunch stroll to see some of their animals, and organising the bubbly and nibbles to toast our achievements at the end of the excellent day. At the back of the house is the little workshop come smiddy area and each getting a flat rod of steel we had to heat it until red hot (but not overheating it as that spoils the finished knife's strength) then hammer it to take of the corner tip and shape out the blade, reheating every so often to maintain its workability. It was then colled in a bucket of water (with added duck-poo in it to add extra nitrates or something, I can't remember now exactly what it did!) Once cooled Steve marked out an endstop and some curving for the grip. We had to hacksaw off the end and grind and shape the metal through a series of sandings, each time with a slightly finer grade than the last. Next we har to glue the parrallel brass blade endstops on then drill a hole through the brass sandwich before glue and pinning it with a little rivet. The pins were hammered flat, then a similar process was used to attach the two pieces of reclaimed Rimu timber which we'd jig-sawn out to make the handle. Everything was sanded again, then wood filler applied round the handle edges to seal any gapping. While we were lunching Steve had checked the knives and sanded down the wood filler and started to round the wooden handles. We then had to continue shaping and sanding, again on a series of increasingly fine sanding belts. Once they had passed muster we taped the handles to prevent any staining of the wood then yet more sanding - this time manually using dampened very fine sandpaper and ensuring we only worked with the grain, no cross blade rubbing allowed! With that done more cleaning and polishing but with soft cloth this time. Once that was done the handles could be uncovered and wax applied to seal the wood and season the metal. A final polish was given to the blades and our knives were finished. What was remarkable was that although we all started out with the same materials and used the same processes every knife was slightly different and each of us was able to pick our own one out when all laid out together. I have to say I'm really proud of my effort: it's not of an expert standard, and of course I needed some help and a lot of guidance, but I still consider I made MY knife and hopefully I can use it for many years if I look after it properly. It really was the best and most rewarding day I've had, and something I am now probably a bit evangelical about - recommending it to everyone I meet who is passing vaguely in that direction!! It was certainly a fitting end to a fabulous couple of weeks.

New Year, New Island

mogsie08-09 — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 12:30:00 GMT

It was probably just as well it was a quiet hogmanay as it was bad enough having to get up on New Year's morning for a 7am shuttle to the ferry across to the South Island as it was. It was also quite windy so I anticipated a stormy crossing. However, it was almost flat calm and the sun came out making it a wonderful sailing, and as we went sailing up the Tory Channel and into the Queen Charlotte Sound towards Picton it was real picture postcard stuff. Forested hillsides sitting one in front of the other until the last one came down to the sandstone edged coves around the fjordlike shoreline. With blue skies and greeny-blue seas I was very much reminded of my sail up the sound to Islay before I left home. I half expected Vicky and the girls to be stood waving pier-side when we arrived! The little town looked really pretty nestled at the head of the bay with houses and buildings nicely spread out to look really welcoming. It certainly charmed me and I ended up spending much longer in the area than I'd originally envisaged. It was a lovely area for strolling or enjoying the little beachfront area when the weather was so good. Sitting at the beach on New Years day, eating my ice-cream quickly before it melted, continued my list of "firsts" for my adventures. Beside the beachfront there is a super playpark with little sit-on train, minigolf, paddling pool and separate boating pond for toy boats. Dougie and dad, I couldn't help but to think back to all your rescue operations at the Duthie Park pond over the years! I think there would be far fewer boats becalmed or sunken in Picton. A few good walks of anything from 10 minutes to 3 hours took me from town and along the shore, through the thick bush of pretty little flowers and wide canopied trees, sometimes up steep damp maddy paths to fantastic lookout point down the sound and across several of the little bays, coves and inlets which branched off from it. Marlborough, the district in which Picton sits, produces over half the wine made in New Zealand so it was only right that I should take another wine tour to sample its wares. Purely in the interest of comparing it to Australian wines you understand, nothing to do with indulgent pleasure! The tour itself was busier than at margaret river with between 7 and 10 people on it as we picked up and dropped of people at different points along the way so it lacked the personal touch of the last time. However, we still managed to visit a total of 5 different vinyards with between 4 and 6 different wines to try at each place. Measures were distictly smaller than on my earlier tours but very enjoyable nonetheless. I think we had a bubbly at each establishment which was nice, and also at least one Sauvignon-blanc at each aswell - that being the most popular and largely produced type in the area. Pinot Noir, Gewurtztraminer(?), reisling, pinot gris and chardonay were generally the other varieties although there was one exceptionally sweet and to my mind, nasty dessert ice wine which just tasted like a sugar syrup. Needless to say I didn't last the tour without purchasing a little something to enjoy on a later date!

The real highlight of my visit to the region however was a four day trek, or tramp as they call it over here, along the Queen Charlotte track. Its a 71km path up and down the hills and round the bays and inlets which border the QC sound. Fortunately I didn't have to carry my full backpack with me as it's taken by water taxi to your next accommodation in time for your arrival each day. I puffed and panted my way up some of the hills in the searing heat as it was. I might be there yet if I'd to trudge up the hills with my rucksack too. On the first day I had a short visit to Motuara Island before being ferried across to the actual start point at Ships cove. The little island is a bird reserve and on the short walk up to the summit lookout point I was entertained by Blue penguins, grey warblers, fantails, saddlebacks and a couple of South Island robins amongst others. At the summit the 360degree views was simply breathtakingly awesome, especially in the clear early morning light. With hardly a cloud in the sky you looked down the QC sound and out to the Cook Strait. The green hills stood out sharply rising magnificently from the calm sparkling blue-green sea. Returning to the jetty to await the boat across I sat mesmerised by the crystal clear water lapping gently against the pierside and onto the stoney foreshore. It was the mailboat which arrived to transport me and the others waiting to the start of the walk. For the first couple of km it was a muddy and slidey steep climb up through fern trees and beech trees to the hilltop which looked out to the picturesque Resolution bay. The fantastic mix of brilliant clear blue waters, lush steep green hillsides and near cloudless blue sky was to become the recurring scene over the course of the next few days, and not one that I ever grew tired of - although by the time I reached Anakiwa at the end of day four my wee leggies were quite happy to have a splash about in the sea then have a rest! Back on day 1 from the hilltop the path continued gently down the hillside in and out of the trees before climbing again until it rounded a corner and descended to Endeavour Inlet and my first overnight stop at a little backpackers nestled into a very quiet corner by the bay, about 15km from the start. Day 2 was the shortest day and an easy flattish walk largely traversing the hillside as we followed the inlet. Where the foliage was thickest it was certainly very wet and muddy underfoot but the glimpses through to the beautiful aquamarine sea more than compensated. Crossing the foreshore when the path reached the water again I had to collect my bag from Noeline's wharf before lugging it the steep narrow, slightly overgrown path to my homestay for the night. Noeline is a slightly eccentric lady in her 80's who lives alone in her somewhat isolated house which has no road access at the moment (she is in a long-running dispute with her neighbour which I think she is secretly enjoying) and takes in trampers overnight as they walk the track. To be met with a pot of tea and freshly baked scones was a real treat and very welcome even if had been a short day's walking (12km). Two other couples arrived later in the day and we were all duly regaled with lots of stories and tales of her aches and pains throughout the evening. Give her due credit though, she is still fiercely independant and uses the money she takes in from the homestay to go travelling for 9-10 weeks every year around June, staying in hostels or homestays as she has little time for hotels! So far she has visited 76 different countries and this year she is planning Malawi! Leaving Noeline's it was an uphill walk to rejoin the track proper, then further climbing up Kenepuru Saddle until finally being rewarded with fantastic views down the Kenepuru Sound. Lush, fertile looking green fields dotted with bales and a few cattle lay in the wide valley between the hills and led down to the blue waters and mussel farms at the head of the Sound. It was a real contrast with the steep sided narrow forrested valleys of the past couple of days. On the other side of the saddle the early morning light gave a lovely silhouetted, slightly hazy look to the land jutting in and out of the QC Sound. The track continued to wind and climb its way up and along the ridge, bellbirds and tuis singing melodically and toadstools lining the path. By the time I reached the Bay of Many Coves shelter I was very grateful of the respite from the hot sun and the seat to get my breath back before continuing the climb to the crest of the hill where the path finally levelled out before twisting along the ridge then began its descent. Rounding one corner I could look right across the sound to Waikawa Bay and a little further on to Picton but fierce gusts of wind from which I'd previously been sheltered nearly blew me off the track so I didn't linger. Fortunately we were soon back into the manuka and wild flowers which provided shelter then entered the cooler, damper, moss clad banks which led down towards Torea bay where after 24 long km I stepped of the track and walked my final 15minutes for the day down to my backpackers in Portage bay. Needless to say I spent a quiet and restful evening with my feet up! Although it was a slightly shorter walk for the final day (c21km), I was concious of the need to get to Anakaiwa in time to connect with the boat back to Picton. Pressing on uphill for the first part of the day I was happy when the track started to drop again and began to reward us with lovely view of one little turquoise cloured bay after another. Finally arriving back at the water's edge at the very pretty Davies Bay. A little stream trickled out through the ferns behind it across the sandy beach and into the green-blue sea where people were waterskiing and the like. Just another couple of km along the shore and I had made it with plenty of time to spare. There was an ideally placed bench in a bit of shade next to the ice cream cabin so no prizes for guessing how I spent most of the time until the boat came to transport all us weary walkers back to Picton!

Managing to wrestle free from the charms of Picton I travelled west to the port town of Nelson for a few nights. It was a pleasant enough place to spend a couple of night: browsing and sampling at the weekend produce and craft market, cycling to the beach and aimlessly wandering some of the pretty parks and gardens. At the botanic reserve I followed a path that wound and wound its way up a hill until it reached the monument at the top which marks the centrepoint of New Zealand. Speaking to some locals they told me it was actually about 12km out from the true centre, but when you've travelled thousands of kilometres to get there I reckon that's a mere footstep away and so close enough in my book! Moving on again I travelled to Motueka next. It's a little rural town on the edge of the Abel Tasman National Park in the north-west of the island. I passed close by Upper Mouter, where Kerry and Brian Budge live, on my way there, but they were away at the time which is a shame as it would have been nice to see them again. There was some lovely walking to do around Motueka. The shoreline has a bird reserve and is visited by many species but is of particular importance for Variable Oystercatchers and Banded Dotterels which nest there. Not being familiar with either variety I wasn't exactly sure what to look out for, but once I saw the oystercatchers they were very recognisable with their shiny black coat and orange beak and eye. I'm still not sure where the variable bit comes in though as they appeared to be one colour only, and I don't think I saw any dotterels, banded or otherwise! It was a nice place to walk however with the salty sea air, soft winds and colourful flowers and plants lining the paths. It was from Motueka that I managed a trip into the national park itself to spend a day kayaking and tramping. Joining a small group we were transported by bus to Marahau where we were kitted out with bouyancy aids, spray decks and the like and loaded into a water taxi for transfer to Onetahuti Beach to start our paddle. Marahau, like most of the Abel Tasman coast, has a huge tidal variance, rising about 5metres from low to high tide over wide flat sandy bays. With the tide quickly coming in our boats were towed on their trailers by little tractors down the boat ramp and across the flats into the water. We were then reversed in a little deeper yet and released from the trailer mountings, the tractor speedily making its way to dry land again before becoming submerged. Once safely afloat we sped off up the coast to meet up with our kayaks. Paired up into two-man boats I was with a big Irishman called Derek and as we paddled off we realised our kayak listed a bit alarmingly to the left. The guide noticed it too, but said there wasn't anything he could do about it so we just had to lean a bit more to the other side to level it out a little! It was a wee bit disconcerting but we survived the trip without capsizing, despite a couple of shaky moments as we were rocked by the bowwave from passing boats. We paddled out to and around Tonga Island. It is part of the marine reserve so we had to stay at least 20metres away from its shore but we were still able to get fantastic views of the many Fur Seals which make the rocky outcrop their home. There wer big males, mothers and cubs all lounging on the rocks or diving and frolicking in the water. It was super to watch and to listen to them as they called out loudly. As we rounded the island we spotted some little blue penguins and shoals of fish darting through the shallower water. As the morning went on the rain we'd had at the start of the day cleared and as the blue sky reappeared so did the great scenery. Tree clad hills covering the rocky cliffs and bluffs along our route. Rounding one little promontary we paddled into the lovely and peaceful Mosquito bay. We paused in the green sandy shallows enjoying the lushness of the surrounds and the tranquility. Thankfully however, as I don't expect it got its name for nothing, we moved on again to the next bay, Bark bay, for lunch and had to paddle as fast as we could directly at the sands in order to get our boats as high out of the tides reach as we could manage. I had visions at one point of the boat's nose sticking fast into the dunes catapulting us out the kayaks, but no, we came to a gentle rest and were able to climb out normally! After a picnic lunch we left the kayaks behind and set off to walk the coastal track back to Torrent bay. Although much drier underfoot than the QCT had been it was just as rocky and the scenery too was similar with ferns, palm and manuka woodland and the glimpses of the stunning blue green seas, but there were more golden sandy beaches and bays along the way. I reached Torrent bay much more quickly than I anticipated but enjoyed the additional time at the beach with wide flat sandy shallows. I was able to paddle around a bit but it was really to shallow to swim, particularly with the tide racing out as quickly as it did. When our water taxis arrived we had to wade out to meet and board them, the drivers having to keep pushing them further out as we did so in order to ensure they stayed afloat and didn't ground. Once everyone was safely aboard we raced off back down the coast to Marahau again. Reaching there we chugged gently onto a waiting tractor and trailer before being hauled ashore and off along the road to the taxi company's base and transferred back to a bus for the return to Motueka. It was a great day out and a real mixture of transportation one way or another.

When the time came to leave the North-west I headed back, retracing my route for a while before turning south down the eastern side of the island to Christchurch. It was quite a long bus ride but as ever it was great to enjoy seeing the different landscapes we passed through on the way. There were the steep pine forests between Nelson and Picton, the wineries to Blenheim, then the sunburnt grass hills to the coast. The highway south then twists and turns alongside black sand and steep rocky faces. The sand was so black in places it was incredible. What I'd thought of as the famous black sand before was nothing compared to this, whereas the other stuff had many black particles within the tan coloured grains this was undoubtedly black. The white waves crashing in in were a stark contrast when the hit the rocky and sandy shoreline. The coastal highway reminded me a bit of the North Sutherland section of the A9 in some respects: the road hugging the rocky shore with the rail-line running on first one side of the road then the other, and the cliffs looming over the road giving it a kind of enclosed feeling. Leaving the coast it was up and over more hills before descending into Christchurch.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with Christchurch, and it has some very pretty walks particularly along the side of the gentle River Avon which cuts through the centre of the city, and the fantastic botanic gardens, but I think it is the area surrounding the city and its harbour towns which would appeal to me more. I did my usual wandering round the city doing a bit of window shopping here and there and sat in some of the little parks enjoying people watching and being entertained by lots of little birds and having a browse round the local markets (enjoying free samples of delicious local fudge along the way), but the best attraction for me was the Antartic Centre. It was a fantastic place to spend some time. Fist up I went round to a penguin section where some little blue penguins and a white flippered penugin are kept. They are sick or injured birds which couldn't be released into the wild so live and are looked after at the centre. They're fed 3 times a day and I arrived just in time for the "breakfast" feed. Some are fed in the water and have to swim for their food but those unable to swim are allowed to eat on-shore. Several of the birds are beginning to moult so are fasting just now, having previously gorged themselves to really bulk up in readiness for the three weeks or so when they lose their waterproofness and therefore can't swim or feed when in the wild. One or two of the birds also had little blue boots on to protect their feet: normally most time is spent in the water so their feet aren't particularly tough. So, when confined to land they tend to suffer from cuts and abrasions etc. The boots alleviate that problem for them. The blue penguins have really become a bit of a mascot for my antipodean adventures. I'm seeing them in different places so frequently now, but they are such adoreable little things - its lovely. from the penguins I had a look round the main antactica exhibition which had displays of sattelites, rocks, facts and figures about the continent's climate, information about those who live and work there, snow sleds, camp equipment, trek rations, wildlife and marine animal information and so on. It was really informative and interesting for my point of view given my fascination with the continent. The movie theatre was next complete with a showing of photographic images- still and moving- with suitably mellow or dramatic music to suit the occasion. Then there was the windchill room. Donning rubber overshoes and a big thick jacket I entered the chill room, complete with manufactured snow and ice, an ice slide for the kids, and an ambient temperature of minus 8degrees Celcius. Then the storm brewed and we got blasted by a strong 40kmh icy wind taking the temperature down to minus 18.6 degrees. It was certainly icy cold right enough, and took me straight back to John and I fighting our way back to the motel in Chuchill - although at least I wasn't wearing 3/4 length thin trousers then! Funnily enough when it started to "warm up" again I noticed a distinct point at -10 when it suddenly felt much more bearable than even just a degree or so less. Leaving the room my glasses misted up so quickly I was grateful for the heated hand rail to hang onto while I took off the shoes and jacket meaning I didn't have to hop about doing it on one foot and half blinded! Finally it was outside and off for a ride in the Hagglund - an all terain amphibious vehicle commonly used in antarctica. It had a lead 'tractor' and a carriage behind but I was lucky(?!) enough to be in the very front seat next to the driver. We had to wear seatbelts and headphones and raced off to some wate ground where we were up and down a couple of very steep hills, traversed the sides at an alarming angle, crossed a man-made cravasse then raced up yet another very steep hill, across a plateau and straight down the other side into a 3 metre deep pool of water to demonstrate its amphibious qualities. The whole thing lasted just about 10-15 minutes but it was thrillingly scary! Seeing nothing but clouds one moment, then staring straight into the rapidly approaching ground or water the next. Fraser, you would have loved it, and I kind of did but it was scary at the same time but a great end to a great visitor attraction.

Leaving Christchurch behind I was back on the rails again as I boarded the Tranzalpine train to cross some of the southern alps, stopping off in Arthur's Pass for a couple of nights, before arriving at Greymouth on the West Coast. I'd heard so many about the fantastic views from the train that I guess I'd built it up in my head to me picturesque from start to finish. It was nice but not so amazing as I'd imagined. The first hour or so took us through the outskirts of Christchurch and across the flat Canterbury Plains. The land there was very much farming country with lots of sheep, some cattle, hay (including little stooks which was nice to see) and a lot of horses - it's a big horse breeding, training and racing area. Then we started to climb up past deep ravines with bright blue clear rivers with stone clad bottoms. Gradually hillsides became more sparsely grasssed and mountains more barren. It reminded me a lot of the north line around the Drumochter/Dalwhinnie area. My train was really busy and the observation car pretty small so your views were pretty much limited to whichever side you were on. I was on the right hand side and I suspect some of the best views would have come on the left, but I enjoyed what I did see, and rolling in to Arthur's Pass I could tell I'd get some nice walking over the next day or so. For the first day I confined my walks to some of the short trails around the village. (I say village but that's maybe stretching the point a little! Hamlet perhaps.) Walking up a track to the Devil's Punchbowl Falls it crossed over the river and wound its way up through the trees to a lookout point. There was a narrow but forceful torrent of water about 130metres high with a bit of a break before a second smaller fall and then it raced bubbling down the hillside over all the rocks and boulders. It was really nice seeing proper waterfalls again. On my way back down the hillside a possum was somewhat dozily snuffling about at the side of the track - the first one I've seen despite there apparently being hundreds of thousands of them in NZ and the scourge of the country! I also heard lots of the bell birds which are becoming a bit of a signature soundtrack to my NZ travels, but they are so blooming well camouflaged they're difficult to actually spot, and every time I do take any photos of them it just turns out as a dark spot in the foliage that I'll never notice in time to come when I look back at all my pictures. Its becoming a bit of a quest of mine to get a decent photo of a bell-bird before I leave this country! Anyway, the next morning I woke to a lovely clear blue sky so I set out to walk Scott's track up Avalanche Peak which . It was pretty stoney and very steep from the outset. The rough path climbed up quickly zig-zagging the hillside through lots of bushes and trees. There were good views down the valley in both directions and across to the Punchbowl Falls where I'd been the day before. As well as rocky and uneven the path was also pretty wet in parts, sometimes it even tracked up through a little spring and was narrow with big steps up over boulders or tree roots - especialyy for people with little legs! Little birds darting around and singing a lovely chorus gave be plenty of excuse to stop regularly and get my breath back. By the time I got a bit further up the alpine views were terrific: little pockets of snow sitting in the corries of the mountains which in themselves were sharply outlined against the blue sky. Periodically wispy cloud would blow past the tops draping the summits for a short time before moving on again. looking down the valley the road far below snaked along the floor with just a few cars and trucks to be seen and looking more like bugs in the distance than vehicles on a road. The path began to come out into the open again as the trees began to thin out and as it did the breeze got a bit stronger. With long sheer drops to the sides, the wind and the shifting stones underfoot I began to feel a bit exposed up there on my own. I knew I was passed 1300metres as I'd cleared the treeline so rather than continuing up to the summit at 1833m I sat ant enjoyed the scenery for a while then started to head back down again. The grey tops were so dramatic looking compared with the greenery at lower levels. Going down, though, was harder than going up. I had to move pretty gingerly on the rubble, however I did make it safe and sound in the end. Definitely not a strollers walk however! Strolling around Arthur's pass villagevillage though was nice, listening to the bellbirds and being amazed at the determination of the Keas (a native green and red parrot type bird) who were driving the campers demented by attacking their tents , stealing their stuff and even pulling at tent zips! It was quite funny watching in the knowledge I had the hostel to retire to at night but I reckon if I'd been camping I might have been having Kea stew for tea!!

When it came to catching the train on to Greymouth the next day I began to appreciate why there is so little travel by train in NZ. It was about 45 minutes late in arriving at AP and then we managed to lose another hour on the onward journey which should have taken only a couple of hours as it was. Fortunately after clearing the 8.5km long Otira tunnel through the mountains there were several nice views to be had as we crossed a number of little rivers with lovely wildflowers along the banks. Once we reached Greymouth I went along to the local brewery, Mentieths, and joined one of their tours. Although the brewery was the original headquarters of the firm most production is now done in Auckland where it has much bigger premises. It was fine to have a look round the place and then it was on to the tastings. That took about twice as long as the tour of the buildings had done because we had generous samples of all seven of their current range of beers to try. Once we worked our way through them we were invited to go and pull ourselves a glass of our favourite at the little bar. I plumped for the Summer Ale which is lightly spiced with honey and ginger and is really refreshing. (And I can now add barmaid to the list of work-experience on my CV!) Before leaving Greymouth I took some time to walk all along the town's floodwall round the river and lagoon to the harbour entrance enjoying the mix of water features and the different wildlife that frequented the different areas. Once I'd exhausted the attractions of the town it was time to head up the coast to the hostel where I'd organised a couple of weeks work in exchange for bed and board. Having to work set hours again seemed a bit of a strange concept but I was kind of looking forward to giving it a go and seeing how I'd get on ...

Kia Ora Aotearoa

mogsie08-09 — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 23:59:00 GMT

I don't know whether I have a guilty face or an innocent face, but you can almost guarantee I'll get stopped for additional security checks at an airport. Leaving Australia was no exception: first of all I got selected for additional explosives screening (scanning and frisk), then on reaching New Zealand I was randomly picked for additional biosecurity checks so my bag was searched, foodstuffs verified and shoes checked for mud! Honestly, I think if I wore a black balaclava with cut-out eye-holes I'd be picked less!!

Once I did get here though all was ok and I took a few days in Auckland to see the city and decide where I'd head first. Auckland itself is a nice enough city but it didn't grab me as a great place to be. I did my usual trick of walking lots to get the feel of the place and the best word I can use to describe it is hilly! Auckland is built, so I discovered, around 49 volcanoes (admittedly some now levelled) but the city layout is definitely testament to their existance. I decided I'd go up the Skytower - the tallest tower in the Southern Hemisphere. Ushered into the lift to climb the 182metres to the main observation deck, only then did I realise the lift door was glass fronted. Taken aback by the buildings flying by as I sped up, I looked down only to discover it was glass floored aswell! I think I said a very naughty word - its just as well I was on my own! Fortunately the floor did have a solid surround to it so I stared at the corner until reaching the main deck. Earlier cloud was clearing so it was a fine view out over the city and harbour and gave me a better appreciation of the layout of the city. Its very hilly and undulating so on ground level I'd lost sight of the fact that there was so buch outwith the immediate vicinity of the centre. I tried my best to gather my courage and walk on the glass floor but couldn't: holding on to the handrail and putting one foot on was the best I could manage - wimp I know, but at least I tried. The tower is supposed to be able to withstand 200kmh winds, swaying only 1 metre at the top, and to survive an earthquake measuring 8 on the Richter scale but I was happy enough not to be testing the theory out. Definitely giving the skywalk or bungee options a miss, and back on the ground I took a bus to Mt Eden, home to a couple of extinct volcanoes and the highest land point in the city. On the way I met someone else from the hostel and got chatting, but suddenly looking up we realised we'd missed our stop. Fortunately the nice bus driver stopped for us and got us transferred to a bus going back whence we'd come and got it to drop us off at the appropriate place. I'd expected a mountain but its just 196m high. Climbing the path through some attractive parkland we reached the summit where the craters were still very obvious and the surrounding views were stunning. The sea looked lovely and blue and the city stretched way out in all directions. The many bays were dotted with little islands stretching off into the distant haze and lots of yachts were making the most of the fine weather.

With more of a feel for the place now, and with a lovely sunny day I walked along the shoreside path to Mission Beach. On the way I passed a brilliant outdoor pool complex called the Parnell Baths. It was crowded with folk and the sound of the laughter and chatter could be heard from afar. Fraser I just imagined you, Alexander and Andrew going wild there: there were childrens pools, jacuzzi, laned swimming pool, inflatable toys, leisure pool, water based playpark loungers and water spouts. I reckon you three would never leave once you got inside! As I carried on I admired the wonderful Pohutukawa trees lining the path. They are commonly known as New Zealand Christmas trees and the crimson flowers were just coming out and were lovely against the dark green foliage. The flowers are made up of hundreds of little fronds with a golden tip to each one so they really do look like christmas baubles twinkling in the sun. Absolutely beautiful. The azure blue sky ensured the were looking their best too. Following the path round the coast for ages dodging the many joggers and cyclists I finally reached Mission Bay. It really wasn't for me though. It was a nice enough spot, but the beach was packed with folk jostling for space, the sand was much more gitty than I've become accustommed to, and the posers out wanting to be seen were strutting their stuff along the esplanade. The road was lined with nice looking cafes and eateries but the streets were jam-packed with cars: families and boy-racers both. Much more to my taste was the village of Devenport just a short ferry ride across the harbour. It had lovely boutique crafty shops and cafes for browsing round and a lovely undulating layout as I walked round the houses and up to another volcanoe site. There were some nice houses with beautifully planted gardens - blooms of all colours peeking over walls or through fences - and lots of dogs and cats sitting guarding their gardens. The locals all seemed very friendly and chatty too - everyone exchanging pleasantaries in the passing. A trip round the museum rounded off my visit to Auckland. It was ok but the lighting wasn't great - it was either shining right in my eyes or was so dark I had difficulty reading about the exhibits. I did think of you though Fraser as there was a bit where you went into a house and there was the simulation of a volcano erupting out in the bay - I was thinking of you and your experience at dynamic earth!

Leaving the city and heading to the Northland area (for the uninitiated that's the long thin bit at the top of the North Island!) my first stop was in Whangarei - it was a random pick for somewhere to stop but I really enjoyed my short visit. The hostel was nice and comfy, if up a very steep hill to get there (which seemed even longer and steeper carrying my backpack up on a hot sunny morning), the company there was good and the town itself had more to offer than I first envisaged. Most of my time was taken up exploring some of the many walks around the parks and reserves on the outskirts of the city. Walking alongside a gently flowing river, through native woodlands and listening to the birds and insects amongst the trees was a lovely way to spend time. On one side of the river was some nice green grassland and picnic benches and several young kids were there with parents or grandparents feeding the ducks which were splashing around and the kids' giggling was infectious drifting across the water. On our side of the river the aroma from the trees was lovely and fresh, as was the air - much less close and stifling than in the town itself. It was a lovely colourful walk with flowers and bushes aswell as the trees and ferns. A type of umbrella looking fern tree seemed most common: a thin tall straight trunk with a flat fronded canopy like a parasol protecting us from the sun. Following the winding course of the river the trail continued through some Kauri trees (but more about them later on my travels) up to a 24 meter high waterfall. There was no great torrent of water just a gentle cascade but after seeing so few ,if any, waterfalls over the last months it was nice to see. The sheer rock faces and greenery from the trees ferns and moss made an attractive sight. On the way there and back we met lots of local people out walking too and it was noticable how everyone was so friendly and ready to exchange greetings and pleasantaries in the passing. After a quick wander round the pleasant town basin and marina, another walk took me up a steep hillside with a little burn cascading down the hill to the lookout at the top. The views were tremendous. It stretched over the forest up to Whangarei Heads at the rivermouth, and over the city to the hills beyond on two other sides and more forrest behind. I hadn't appreciated how big the city was until that point. At night DJ, one of the regular visitors at the hostel, took several of us out to see the glow worms. There were scores of them all along the banking and on the walls of a little cave and behind a wooden staircase heading up the hill track. It was like little stars shining in the distance, and when you looked closely at them they were actually like little threaded beads - only about 2-3 cm in length but hanging like mini chandaliers. Quite beautiful and a super way to round off a very enjoyable visit to Whangarei.

Next stop was Paihia on the Bay of Island (and no, Val and mum, it's not pronounced "pee higher" - try Pie-he-a!!) and arriving on an overcast day it probably didn't look its best but with the sea, islands aplenty, beaches and the historic Waitangi Treaty House and grounds it was easy to see its charms. Booked onto a day trip to Cape Reinga (on the northenmost finger of land in NZ) we had our first stop of the day at Puketi Kauri forest and the Manginaninga boardwalk. I'll explain a bit more about Kauris when getting to Hokianga, but suffice to say the ones here were reckoned to be over 1000 years old, huge, and interspersed with lots of ferns it made a pleasant walk. We hadn't long set off again when there was an enormous bang then a series of clatters and thumping giving everyone a shock. The driver got out to investigate and found the inner left rear tyre had well and truly blown. We limped down to the nearby pretty bayside town of Taipa and had morning tea there while waiting for the tyre repair people to come. Fortunately they didn't take long in arriving and made quick work of changing the tyre. (Realising its a tubeless tyre it did make we wonder, though, what do kids use for beach playthings now? I seem to remember spending hours in the sea with big inner tubes as pontoons and swimming toy!) Anyway, we were soon on our way and passed through lovely rolling green countryside with lots of sheep and dairy farming, some citrus growing and even a winery or two -although we sped past them without stopping, mores the pity! Our lunch stop was at Tapotupotu bay. We descended down a steep twisty gravel road from the hill-tops to the bay and it was very pretty: bordered by green grass and hills the sandy beach was edged at each end by rocky headland and waves rolling in relatively gently. I had a paddle but the water was too cold for swimming and Dice, our driver, needn't have bothered with his warning of strong currents and undertows as no-one went past calf deep! Climbing back out of the bay after lunch we turned for Cape Reinga. Credited as being the most northerly place in New Zealand (although technically that honour should go to a cape a little further round the bay) it is here that the Pacific Ocean meets the Tasman Sea. A bit of an outline was visible in the water but not as distinctly as its meant to be on stormier days - the weather was just too nice. Bape Reinga is a sacred place for the Maori, being the place that all spirits make their way to before departing the country and this world. Currently Highway 1 which takes you there is a gravel track for the last 20km or so, but is very much a construction site at the moment. Its in the process of being upgraded to sealed road so is even more rutted, gravelly and muddy just now. The track down to the lighthouse has already been upgraded and I can only imagine the area becoming moredeveloped as a result of the "improvements" and losing some of its current charm and mystique. I already wonder, Gus and Lou, whether you would recognise it from your visit. Moving on though, we turned down the Te Paki Quicksand stream and had a splashing ride to some huge sand dunes. Unloading body boards from the bus we made the trek up the dunes - a tiring climb with the soft sand underfoot shifting with every step. Peching our way to the top in a long crocodile though we were free to descend. Lying on the board lifting its nose slightly to prevent me ending up nose-first in the sand I set off. It was fantastic. Racing down the hill with that almost out of control sledging type exhiliration and not the cold that accompanies the snow, just the warmth of the sun was fantastic. A slight dig of your big toe into the sand helps steering or breaking and I loved it. Definitely worth the climb up the dune, I made my way back up the hill as fast as I had breath for and had another go! Once everyone who wanted had had a few shots we packed up the boards and carried on down the stream and out onto 90 Mile Beach. A sand highway its actually only about 100km long, but what's in a name. With a 100kmh speed limit we were able to race down the beach stopping just to take a few photos and have a paddle in the Tasman Sea. Two paddles in two differet seas on two different coasts of New Zealand in one day - nod bad going! The beach highway was quite wide, although at high tide the sea reaches right up to the sand cliffs bordering it, completely submerging the "road" and claiming a few vehicles over the years from travellers who'd not paid heed to the tides, as we could see from a couple of old wrecks along the way. The road itself was smoother than I anticipated with shells dotting it like a constellation of stars in places. Although there were one or two people fishing, a couple of cars parked up and one land-yacht rigging up as we passed, there didn't seem to be much traffic and I couldn't help comparing it to Fraser Island. 90 Mile Beach is , I think, straighter, wider, flatter and with fewer creeks, but much faster to travel on. Going virtually the full length of the beach we left it and pulled into a Kauri woodworking workshop. There were some beautiful items and pieces of furniture on display. One dining table in particular took my fancy, but I wasn't too disappointed that it wouldn't pack into a rucksack when I saw how many thousands of dollars it cost!! And with that it was back to Paihia after a super day out.

Next up for me was a day on the water. We spent the day cruising the bay round some of the little islands and wildlife spotting getting bits of commentary as and when something interesting came up. First pause was to watch some Blue Penguins as they're called in NZ (the Lttle Penguins or Fairy Penguins as I knew them in Oz). Swimming about they are far more agile and confident than they were on land. We also saw a huge flock of Shearwaters resting- also called Muttonbirds they rarely vist land, staying at sea for most of their lives. We then caught up with a pod of bottlenose dolphins including a mother with a young calf. Rather than playing in the boat's bow wave or wake however, they were in feeding mode jumping and diving spectacularly in pursuit of fish. Patrolling some of the islands we passed Oihi Bay where early christian missionaries had set up a church and tried unsuccessfully to convert Maoris to christianity, and Moturoa Island which gave the tour I was on its name. Moturoa is the second largest island in the bay and in days gone by a boat would call to swap empty for full milk urns from the farmers. Over the years tourists began to join "The Cream Run" to ejoy the sail and scenery. Gradually farm numbers declined, but tourist numbers continued to grow, and now there are no farms -just tourists. Next stop for us was Piercy island (Motukokako) and the hole in the rock that it is known for. The previous islands we'd passed had been primarily green with the wonderful red flowered Pohutakawa trees sprouting fron the land in all directions. Piercy Island, just off Cape Brett where a lighthouse sits perched, forms a guard between the bay and the stormier South Pacific. Battered by more severe weather and seas it is largely devoid of vegetation and stands a towering mass of 478 feet of rock. Whereas the water had been relatively calm, if a bit grey, up until then, around "the hole" it was rough with a huge swell. The waves crashed foaming white against the rock contrasting with the dark green sea below the crests. Too stormy to risk taking the boat through the small gap today, we lurched round about it to take some photos before returning to the leeward side for shelter. Leaving it behind then we headed up to Urupukapuka Island for our lunch break. This is the largest island in the bay at c520 hectares and has many coves and beaches which local people, boaties and tourists can enjoy. We docked in Otehi bay. It was an idyllic place and on a super sunny day would be stunningly beautiful. Quiet, with ferns and Pohutakawa gracing the grassy expanse leading down to the sandy sheltered bay it was lovely. Climbing the hill behind, a lookout point gave great views up and down the Bay of Islands. A super spot for a walk it was soon time to reboard and we cruised out and round past Roberton Island, the scene of a triple killing in 1841 which led to the perpetrator becoming the first New Zealander to be hung (NZ having only officially come into existance in 1840). On our way back to shore we met up with another large pod of dolphin, and some passengers were allowed into the water to swim with them. With a strong current and reasonable waves it was hard going for the snorkellers, not to mention cold, and it took them several attempts to let them have any real sight of the dolphins around them. Those of us on deck got a far better view, and were left to shout (helpfully?) to the swimmers "behind you" "below you" "swim fast, quick" etc to give them any clues as to where to go or look! I think I am glad I stayed on board and didn't pay for the priveledge of getting cold, being shouted at and having a relatively mediocre view of Flipper and friends. Swimmers back on board we started back to Paihia. I opted to disembark at Russell however. Its the oldest town in NZ and undoubtedly pretty and a nice place to amble around. I made the scenic climb up the hillside past some lovely big houses to the summit of Flagstaff hill and the site of the original flag of the newly formed New Zealand. Following disagreements over the treaty the wooden flagpole was chopped down 4 times by a Maori chief - Hone Heke - before a form of truce was reached. Sitting at he top I was joined by an Irishman who started blethering but then never stopped to draw breath let alone to shut up. It was lucky the ferry back to Paihia is a frequent service as I watched one come and go before he even paused long enough for me to jump in , make my excuses and go. I couldn't believe it when I took my seat on the ferry back only for him to reappear and take the seat next to me. I know he was probably just lonely, but I think I could tell you all about his past holidays and his New Zealand cousins Winnie, Malcolm and Annie! I naughtily laughed to myself at one point though when he said he'd turned up unexpectedly to visit Winnie and her husband and had to knock 3 times before they came to the door as they thought it was Jehovah's Witnesses - I bet they knew damn fine it was him and were hoping he'd leave them in peace!! However, even allowing for him and his blethers it was another good day out.

My other highlight in Paihia was my visit to the Waitangi Treaty House. First up on getting there was a cultural show. With one of our number selected as honorary "chief" he was met with the traditional greeting and Haka. Once a leaf thrown at his feet was picked up to show we came in peace, we could take to our seats and a super performance of taditional songs and dances followed. One concession to modern ways being the use of guitar rather than the shells which would traditionally have been the order of the day. I found the songs and music very engaging and likeable and of the group of 6 (3 men and 3 women) one of the ladies was particularly good, and her expressions were amazing - definitely achieving the intimidating feel she was aiming for! A couple of the routines involved sticks passed and thrown between them and the pace and agility was amazing. Another involved woven flaxen balls on the end of a length of rope being swung and caught in rythym with the songs and music. At the end of that one a couple of "volunteers" from the audience were picked to have a go too - and guess who one of these volunteers was! Fortunately they kept the routine fairly basic so I was mostly able to follow what I should be doing - good fun though even if I wouldn't be asked to join permanently anytime soon!! After the performance I went on a guided tour of the grounds. Waitangi is where the Treaty of Waitangi was signed in 1840 between the British and many Maori chiefs effectively forming the constitution of the state of New Zealand and proclaiming its official inception. First stop on the tour was at a Waka (canoe) built for the 1940 centenary of the treaty's signing. It was carved from one huge Kauri tree and is capable of holding about 160 men with about half of them paddling at any one time. It is ornately carved and has no nails or glue holding it together: the strengthening side beams are lashed on with rope which swells and tightens in the water so se4aling the holes drilled ti wind it through. The craft is a recreation of the waka which Kupe, the first Polynesian settler on Aotearoa, would have arrived on. Next port of call for us was the flagstaff which marks the actual site of the signing of the treaty and which flies the three flags of significance for NZ: the union jack, the first flag of confederation of Maori states and the present NZ flag. There is also a Maori meeting hall, again built for the centenary using traditional skills and crafts, and beautifully and inticately carved detailing the ancestors, figureheads and legends of traditional patterns. Then, of course, there is the traty house itself. Now fully restored it was the private residence of James Busby, a Scot, who was sent to NZ as the official British Resident to broker peace between the warring factions, round up escape convicts, and establish the treaty for New Zealand. Later falling into disrepair it was bought by Lord Bledisloe, a former governer, and put into trust for the public, recognising the cultural significance of the site. All in all a very interesting and informative place to visit.

Leaving Paihia I crossed to Hokianga. Hokianga is culturally very important as it is where Kupe made his first home after arriving in his Waka on what was to become New Zealand. I was staying at a hostel in Omapere and it was excellent. Sue, the hostel owner met me and the three other new arrivals from the bus and took us for a quick run in the car pointing out the locations of some of the local landmarks. At the "heads" the green hilly cliff looks across the narrow channel to the 300m high sand dunes of the North Head and the sea of Hokianga 'harbour' stretches way back up the valley until the Tasman sea finally becomes a river with other rivers and streams feeding into it. Its really a firth rather than a harbour but I don't know if they have an equivalent term over here.Back at the hostel it was superb: up a longish drive sitting above the highway its surrounded by fields and meadow, has a large patio with benches and hammocks for lounging around aswell as the big indoor lounge and basically just has a very homely feel to it. Leaving the comfort of the hammocks I went walking along the beach with one of the other guests, and although the chillyish wind put paid to thoughts of swimming the sand was still warm underfoot and it was fine paddling through the creeks feeding in to the sea. We got chatting with a guy fishing for snapper off the beach and when we ran out of beach further on he caught us up and showed us through his property and back onto the road. A simple but friendly gesture from a local, and one which would come to typify the people I met here. In the evening several of us were going on a twilight trip to the Waipoua Forest and when they turned up to collect us we were met by our larger than life Maori guide Tufferei(Tuf) and Aee his assistant. As we made our way to the forest, he introduced himself and his maori heritage before getting us each to say a little about ourselves too. Then when we reached the forest he spoke about Maori respect for nature and environment and the need to introduce yourself to it (it reminded me of Capes at Monkey Mia and the similar Aborignal belief). He then sang his greeting and prayer giving us an English translation afterwards. A big lad, he had a wonderful tone and resonance to his singing. We walked with him pointing out aspects of the forest and where relevant giving traditional tales and stories connected to those points of interest until we reached the "stars" of our trip - the giant Kauri trees. Kauris are huge, old , tall trees with a hammered looking trunk and limbless until the canopy opens out at the top. They grow to an immense age and have an enormous girth. The timber is excellent for building and crafting so were in the past extensively harvested, so much so that the species was almost lost forever and now only about 4% of what was once there remains. Now protected the only woodworking with auri timber is from a supply of felled trees reckoned to be about 5000 years old. They were found preserved in mud after having been flattened in a huge el nino-esque tidal surge thousands of years ago. At Waipoua we saw a 3 year old tiny sapling, a 15 year old tree and a 20 yo showing how slow growing they are at first until suddenly about 20 years they start to sprout - shooting up to become the tallest trees in the forest and limbs only then starting to form as it spreads out to form the ceiling over the flora and fauna below. Once it has reached its height it then starts to broaden getting wider and wider as it ages -and capable of living for thousands of years that can be a significant girth. As it expands it bursts out of its bark causing the hammered appearance as the shells are thrown off. Having seen the young Kauri we then reached Te Matua Ngahere. It is reputed to be the second biggest Kauri tree currently living and thought to be over 2000 years old. It was massive: about 29 metres tall from ground to limb and about 16 m round it was awesome. Again Tuf sang a traditional song referring to it which was lovely and yet haunting at the same time. Somehow it really made you think about time and the power of nature and what it can achieve given half a chance. We stayed a while amazed by the tree before heading back seeing Kiwi burrows though not the birds themselves, Morepork owls and hearing Tui birds. Back at the minibus Tuf sang a farewell to the area, then as we were about to leave we heard a male Kiwi calling. We listened for the female's reply but heard no more so set off back down the road before stopping at Tane Mahuta. It is the largest Kauri and although even taller than Te Matua Ngahere its not so round and I didn't find it quite so striking - perhaps because I wasn't so taken aback by it as I was earlier. We had a final song before leaving and being ferried back to our hotels and hostels. It was a wonderful tour a fantastically simple mix of nature and song but really enjoyable. It was also noticable how our introductions at the start of the evening were not just a method of passing time as throughout the evening little personal comments were made relevant to particular individuals background - a real nice friendly touch.

Next day while waiting for a lift for a boat trip I met Sue and Mike's cat Tequilla. He's the twin of Fred except he has a short tail - its as if half of Tequilla's went to Fred instead! When my lift arrived the driver was Bob the fisherman from yesterday and he was just as chatty today. He dropped me off for the boat and Zack our guide and driver introduced himself and his maori background before we set off - the format of today's trip being similar to last night with songs interspersed with stories and information. Its a combination that really appeals to me. We went first down through some pretty rough water to the foot of the Heads where he spoke about Kupe - the first Polynesian here and his settling in the area, the name Hokianga meaning returning place and given in recognition of Kupe's continual return to the area. From the harbour entrance we worked our way all the way up the harbour to Manganunu pausing at variouss points en route: the Pa site (maori fort) where carved figures had been sited along the walls of the fort to dispel invaders by giving the illusion of it being more densely populated than it was; the site of the first courthouse in NZ; giant concretion boulders (created over thousands of years by sediment building up round little pebbles being rolled around the seashore); pretty St Mary's church at Motuti (first catholic mission house); and finally the Mangununu Mission House. We docked the boat there and walked up to look at the building where 63 local maori chiefs had signed the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 when it was brought there on its circumnavigation of the country to obtain further assent. A lovely old local lady , Feena, spoke about the history of the place and showed us their copy of the treaty and sang another traditional tune. Then followed a lovely time when we all just sat and talked - Zack and her speaking about local people and activities but involving us in the conversation. It was just a brilliant atmosphere - like sitting at your favourite auny's getting the local news and gossip. When we finally left there we crossed the river to a waterside cafe for afternoon tea. Two of the group left us there leaving just me and a dad with his young son of about 10 yuears of age. When we left the cafe to return to our starting point at Opononi Zack let the boy drive the boat and he had an absolute ball: we zig-zagged a lot at first until the youngster got the hang of it (Zack telling him just to pretend he was on his playstation playing a game seemed to do the trick!) then we sped off no problems at all. I just thought of you Fraser being there and getting the same opportunity and could just imagine your grin afterwards! Zack retook controls to berth us back at the wharf at the end of another outstanding trip. The tours are not altogether slick, polished or seamless, but for me that's the charm and they have all the more charm for it. Back on dry land I was given a lift back to the hostel, and spent my last evening in the wonderful area chatting, laughing and generally having fun with the others. Just brilliant.

Starting to begin to journey south I had another overnight stop in Auckland before carrying on towards New Plymouth. The meal stop en route was in the little town of Te Kuiti whose claim to fame, I discovered, is that it's the sheep shearing capital of New Zealand and stages the national shearing championships each year. It was a huge 7.5 metre high statue of a shearer and sheep in the middle of a roundabout at the end of the main street to mark it connection - bizarre! carrying on to New Plymouth I found a town where the main attractions centre around its natural landscape and the surrounding scenery. Unfortunatley during my visit it poured with rain for most of the time, coupled with low cloud and a strong wind. I didn't even manage to pick out the silhouette of the 2,500 metre high Mount Taranaki which is close by, let alone see it in its glory or go walking there! Even the sea looked cold grey and uninviting, but at least there with a nice boardwalk and path following the shore you could see how attractive it would be in good weather. The rain did ease enough in the evening to be able to go to one of the local parks which hosts a festival of light and music throughout the summer months, though. The band I saw were really very good: called Dreadrock they played a kind of reggae rock and obviously popular locally.

From New Plymouth I moved to Wanganui, a lovely city, and her the weather changed again becoming lovely and warm and sunny again. It was a nice place to stroll around and climbing up the hill to a lookout I was even able to see all the way across to the snowcapped Mt Taranaki which had staedfastly remained hidden while I was there. However, the highlight of my visit to Wanganui was undoubtedly the morning I spent going on a trip up the Whanganui River Road with the mailman, Noel, delivering the post as we went. He picked me up from the hostel early on a beautiful morning with a little mist hanging low over the river looking really picturesque. Noel has the sontract for rural delivery #6 which covers about 96 properties along the road and acts as a daily bus service for those residents who don't have their own transport. If they take his service into town though they have to stay overnight before getting back, so several just leave shopping lists and money in their mailboxes for him to collect one day and deliver their shopping the next. Not long after turning off the highway onto the river road is a viewpoint looking down the valley but this morning it was a whiteout of mist so we didn't stop to enjoy it! The road twists and turns along the course of the riverside up and down the hillside as it goes. Haven fallen below the mist again it was fantastically scenic. Lots of ferns, trees and undulating grazing with cattle, sheep and goats as well as a few pigs. Agapanthas added a splash of blue to the verges and the brilliant crimson of Pohutukawas which I love were interspersed with various other flowers creeping through the fences and hedges from the roadside properties. Leaving the post in mailboxes at roadends means there isn't the everyday contact with people that our posties have, but with one parcel needing a signature we turned into one driveway and across their field past their little orchard of apple trees where sheep and pigs were running about until we reached the house. With no-one home we had to return with the parcel undelivered. Dropping off elsewhere we met a couple of friendly folks who came to meet and greet. As we travelled I noticed some of the roadside banks were very sheer with crumbly, almost slatelike compacted mud which can dry out to sand in the summer. The road can often become blocked by landslides in winter so Noel has to clear a track though at times. The last part of the road is currently unsealed but work is underway to widen it before tarring the road. In order to do that they are clearing previously vegetated banks leaving them bare so Noel fears it will be a recipe for further landslides after heavy showers. Also, like I did at cape Reinga, he feels it will spoil the character of the place. Locals have very mixed feelings on the project too - those with businesses generally in favour while individuals are primarily against it. Noel also pointed out one verge face which was full of old oyster shells so apparently seas passed by at one time. Now so fragile they turn to dust if touched, but fortunately most are just high enough to stop passers by doing that. A little further along we were caught up by a private car taking, it transpire, two people on a jet-boat trip. When we stopped to speak to one local man they transferred to us. The boaters needed to be in Papriki, at the end of our delivery route, by about 9.30 so we abandoned deliveries and made our way up as speedily as we could to get them there as close to time as possible. The friendly guy at the office there exchanged banter with us before the two of us continued on our way. We had morning tea by the jetty there: coffee and lemon curd muffins being provided. Our picnic stop was lovely - hot sun, winding river, green hills, blue sky, stoney foreshore, boat ramp - need I say more other than to throw in the twittering birds and rose coloured butterfly for good measure! further stops were made to see Koriniti Marae, The Jerusalem church and mission, and at Kawana Flour mill where we had our picnic lunch. The marae - a traditional Maori meeting place - is still well used and Maori iwi from the Wanganui area will gather there for holidays, weddings, funerals, functions and so on. It was beautifully decorated and maintained with red wooden carvings edgeing the white buildings. The Jerusalem Mission church was set up in the 1860's by a French woman, Susanne Aubert, who had travelled from home against her family's wishes to work with the maoris. Travelling upriver by boat as there was no roadway in those days she soon established a home for children, whether they be orphans, disabled or abandoned, and stubbornly refused to tell the authorities where all the children came from. She was trying to protect the parents or unmarried mothers who would have faced shame and rejection for their actions, but was considered to be hiding information by the authorities or at worst of having something to hide herself. Eventually she moved the children's home to Wellington in order to be nearer medical assistance, but the sisters of Compassion order which she established grew to have projects across New Zealand and beyond. Susanne Aubert was 91 when she died, an incredible age for the time and even more so considering that as a child she fell into an icy pond and, nearly drowning, she was bedridden for months before slowly recovering. The jerusalem mission had about 20 nuns at one time but today there are just 3. There is a small church with a strange mix of maori and European decorations, carvings and artwork, and a convent which people can use as a B&B rgardless of faith or none. In their spare time the nuns make marmalades, jams and pickles using the fruit and veg in their gardens and sell them on site and at farmers markets. Like everyone I met on the road the ladies were jolly, friendly and welcoming. I didn't feel like an outsider on the trip, more like visiting friends or relations I hadn't seen for a long time. It was lovely. Our lunch stop at the mill was another super spot. At one time six mills would have lined the river with Kawana being one of the first built. Kawana means governor in Maori and the materials for it were largely donated by rthe then governor-general of NZ. As farming in the vally declined local milling fell by the wayside and the mills gradually fell into disrepair. Kawana was no exception, but all the working components remained on site. Members of a local tramping club eventually cut back the scrub and undergrowth and secured funding to rebuild the mill and preserve it as a historic monument. After much hard work it was finally reopened as a non-working but complete museum in 1980. Once we left there we made our last few deliveries, with me making the last two or three, so you can tell Stuart that if he wants a relief postie when I come back I can now add postal experience to my CV! Returning to town with the morning's mist having well and truly gone leaving the clear sunny day we were able to stop off briefly at the viewpoint that wasn't on the way in. It was a magnificent vista - looking all the way down the valley to snowcapped Mt Ruapehu in the far distance in distinct contrast to the hills around us. I was a fantastic end to a super tour and enjoyable visit to Wanganui.

I moved on then to spend christmas in Wellington and to explore the city. Christmas day was certainly different to those I've had in the past but I ended up enjoying the day - even if it was a bit odd with it being a warm day with everyone in tshirts, shorts etc. I had collected some cards and a parcel from the post office on xmas eve - a big thank you to everyone for your cards. It was really lovely to have them and to "decorate" my bunk with them all. I opened my parcel from mum and dad on christmas morning which was lovely and made the day seem special. Next it was down to the dining area where bubbly, mince pies and christmas cake was laid on by the hostel staff. A mixed nationality group of people I'd met up with (Scottish, English, Canadian, American, Chilean, Australian, Swedish and Dutch) gathered to enjoy our drinks and nibbles before heading off to go for lunch at a fuction someone had heard about and assured us it was open to all. When we got there it turned out to be primarily aimed at the homeless, and as we were told it was always oversubscribed we reckoned the homeless need it more that we did so we left again. The same bus driver who had told of the lunch had also said that the museum, Te Papa, would be open on xmas day, so somewhat unconvinced we headed there instead. Surprisingly it was open, and we all gradually went our separate ways as we got lost in its charms. Spread over several floors there are lots of exhibits - static, interactive, audiovisual, computer generated, mechanical and written. It was a fantastic place with marvelous sections on the earth's core, volcanoes and earthquakes, weather, natural history (including the skeletons of huge Moa birds, Giant eagles and a young but still massive blue whale) and a collosal squid. It was supremely ugly but a phenomenal size, and despite its repulsiveness everyone was strangely drawn to look at it! In another section a huge satelite image of the country was inlaid into tiles on the floor and backlit to give a real impression of the nation. On anther floor was a whole area about the scots in New zealand which made a nice connection to home, and at a section about whisky I was able to have a good sniff of peat smoke giving me a bit of the flavour of Laphroaig - even if not the taste! Getting "all museumed out" for one day I left the rest for another time and went to meet up with one of the Canadian girls, Carmen, as prearranged to make our christmas dinner. We feasted on chicken wrapped in bacon and roasted with mediterranean veggies and mashed potatoes, all washed down with red wine, and followed by syrup pudding and cream which we shared with another three americans and a dutch girl who'd joined us as we sat blethering, laughing and stuffing our faces. Afterwards, in an attempt to walk off the excesses, I walked along to the beach to meet up with some of the others who were picnicking there. I can safely say I've never before had a picnic on the beach approaching 9pm on the 25th December but it was a great ending to a very different xmas day for me. Wellington is a city I came to really like - its nestled in a basin at the foot of several hills, and with not too many high-rise buildings, the busy harbour, the pedestrian orientated wharfside with walkways, cafes and water based activities, it has a nice vibe to it and is easy to feel at home in. The next couple of days I spent wandering around the city, both on a walking tour and independently. There are lots of sculptures, statues and monuments all around the city and more are added each year apparently. A Mr Plimmer, an early NZ Prime Minister, left money in a trust fund for annual additions and so tenders are invited each year for designs and locations across the city. (Needless to say one of the statues is of Mr Plimmer himself). The parliament building is dubbed "the Beehive" on account of its striking round multistorey design, and is a huge contrast with the old classically styled parliament building just across the road which is the oldest and largest completely wooden building left in NZ. Absolutely everything, including the pillars are made from native timbers. I also took the cable-car (train not aerial) up one of the many hills to the botanic gargens. Lookouts from them provide marvelous views out over the city and then provide a wonderful walk back down into the city proper. The fern patch and aromatic herb garden were both lovely, but the stars for me are the Pohutukawa trees. The gold tinged deep red flowers really appeal to me and really are so appropriate for the festive season when they bloom. Finally, I climbed the steep hillside path to Mount Victoria and more spectacular view. In one direction over the city but in the other it looks South out over the Cook Strait and across the sea and where the next land you would reach if you were to set sail would be Antartica.

I left the city for a few days then and took the train just half an hour up the coast to Mana,a little seaside sattelite village for Wellington. It has a little marina and a narrow(ish) channel of water which runs under the highway bridge to become Pauatahanoi inlet. The bay is lovely - surrounded by green lush hills with a mixture of grasses and bushes, some cattle grazing, and of course my Pohutukawas to add splashes of red. Along the shoreline are several colourful baches. A bach is a little beach house generally used as a holiday home and these were built out on stilts over the water so people could take their little dinghies or kayaks almost to their door. I spent my two or three days there walking, paddling and sitting round the inlet and marina or wandering way along the coast enjoying the salty air and people watching at the beaches. The strangest sight for me was when a car drew up beachside and a bride and her two bridesmaids got out to have some photos taken. Now, as you know I am certainly no fashion guru, but I was amazed when I saw the bridesmaids' dresses. I am sure the best man, ushers, and probably half the other guests would be delighted but to me strappless flouncy minidresses looked a bit odd for the occassion! Then, on my penultimate morning at Mana I was busy making my breakfast porridge when Rex, the owner of the lodge, came in and seeing what I was doing teased me and suggested I should be having a dram alongside it. I laughingly agreed and the next thing I know he produced a bottle of Port Wood Glenmorangie and told me to help myself! Now, at breakfast time it's really too early, even for me. But what was I to do - it was almost hogmanay, I hadn't had a dram in nearly 6 months and I couldn't let my country down could I, so I very stoically and patriotically forced myself to pour a large one and had the best porridge I've had!!

When I left Mana I returned to Wellington for Hogmanay and that was really the only time the city let me down. I went down to the Civic Dquare where there was a band playing to see in the new year. There were lots of people milling around but no real atmosphere. The most interesting thing to watch was really the police anti drink-driving roadblocks and breathalysing of all drivers! Then as the clock ticked round towards midnight there was a bit of a countdown and half-hearted cheer of Happy New Year and a couple of party poppers went off on stage, and that was it! Not a firework to be seen and no general greeting and well-wishing around the crowds - everyone just began to filter away. To my mind it was a pretty pitiful way for the capital city of one of the first countries to bring in the New Year. I returned to the hostel and had a little dram from a bottle I'd got for myself (but Vicky, Chris, there were no Islay whiskies to be seen in the shop - a definite gap in the market there for you to remedy!) and that was about it for the first half of my trip, and for Wellington. I would be moving on again later in the day.

Not Quite the Full Circle

mogsie08-09 — Thu, 4 Dec 2008 05:01:00 GMT

I arrived in Sydney delighted to be back in a city that I love. I feel I know it reasonably well now so knew there were some obvious landmarks I wanted to visit, but also happy just to amble about taking in the views and the atmosphere of the place. An absolute must though was to get down to see the splendour of the opera house and bridge.

I made my way down through the city centre towards the opera house but got sidetracked into the Botanic gardens next door when I saw there were guided walks of them about to start. I joined them and we had an interesting walk round. The first plant we stopped at was one of the rare Woolemi pines I had seen when I was at Brisbane. Not overly impressed then, this time the guide gave us a bit more background information about its find and some facts about it that made it a bit more interesting. It was rediscovered by a park ranger who just happened to be on a gorge canyoning trip and landed amongst it. Fascinated by the bubbly bark which it has, and not recognising it, he decided out of curiosity to take a sample home to find out what it was, not expecting in the slightest to discover that it was such a rare, and previously thought to be extinct, plant. Apart from the strange bubbly bark the tree also produces male and female cones which is unusual in itself. So all you botanists out there, now you know! Next to make their presence felt in the gardens were the flying foxes -about 2000 of them have made the place their home and are stripping the leaves and bark from many trees as they go. The noise and smell from them is very distinctive! Efforts are to be made to try to move them on by continually disturbing them when they settle to roost but as you can imagine its also causing a bit of controversy as none of the other communities nearby want them moving into their neck of the woods either. Another feature of the gardens is the location of the original efforts at cultivation by the first european settlers in the 1780's. A section is devoted to some of the first crops they tried to grow in Australia(no farming having occured before as the aboriginal people were hunter gatherers). Elsewhere we saw lots of native plants such as the bottlebrushes, warratahs, magnolias, jacarandas, ferns, australian chestnuts (which aren't chestnuts at all!), and toured round the lilly pond and numerous other flowers that I can't remember the names of but which were very pretty!! It was a lovely way to spend a morning however - if I a non-green fingered person enjoyed it many of you other more horticulturally minded folks would be in raptures I'm sure. from the park I carried on my wanders and spent a lot of time soaking in the atmosphere of the city: in the citycentre amongst the modern high-rise skyscrapers where tourists and business combine, and admiring the views around the bridge, harbour area and the Rocks - another great place full of character and stalls and shops and older buildingg and ideal for just moseying around: time passes quickly as you wander!

The Sydney Opera House is a beautiful building. Even on a grey day it stands out proudly with a real glimmer to all the whitish tiles, and has such a graceful shape. It really does remind me of sailing yachts and made me think back to my little sailing trip from Airlie Beach. Never having been to a performance inside I decided this time I'd go to something. Unable to afford standard tickets - even if I wasn't a skinflint backpacker- I got a groundrush ticket for an afternoon showing. (groundrush tickets are last minute cheapies available only about an hour before a show starts if there are spare seats). In the drama theatre I went to see a play called "The Pig Iron People". It was centred round a suburban Sydney street in the mid-ninetys and the intertwined lives of 4 of the households: three of them being people who'd lived in the street for many years, were children of the 30's and had set view and distinct character traits; the fourth household was from the following generation and was a newcomer to the street. It had been billed as a comedy but I missed a lot of the laughs not having knowledge of Ozzy politics to get some of the jokes and references. Overall it was ok but not brilliant, however I really thought two of the characters were played really well. At the end of the performance it was announced that there'd be a question and answer session with the cast and assistant director. It was interesting, and explained how some of the tremendous set details had been achieved, and two of the actors stood out as likeable people, forthcoming in their answers and the information they gave - particularly to the kids from a couple of school groups in the audience. All in all it was a very cultural day for me, but made a nice change as well.

With still some available time and kilometres on my bus-pass to go somwhere else before leaving Australia, I travelled up to Port Macquarie (about 420km North of Sydney), returning via a stop in Newcastle. Port Macquarie is another seaside town with a thriving surf scene, and lovely coastline. Starting at the town beach, I followed a coastal path which wound its way along just above the rocky shoreline, dropping down to one sandy beach after another and another, and offering great views out over the pacific ocean. There was a huge swell and crashing surf and a few school groups were getting surf lessons. I reckoned that if that was there PE class it was a much better deal than the cross-country running round the town park on a cold damp day we had to endure! Leaving the beaches eventually I walked past the desely palmed and forrested edge of Sea Acres rainforest park and along to a Koala hospital. I arrived just before the feeding and medicine rounds but also at the same time as a huge thunderstorm and some of the heaviest rain I've seen in Australia! However, it only lasted half an hour or so, so I was still able to join the "walk and talk" around the hospital. The only one of its kind its dedicated purely to the treating and rehabilitation of sick, abandoned or injured koalas. It has a six bed intensive care unit as well as various yards to house the less severely ill as they recuperate and become fit enough to be re-released(or for two animals as permeanent residence as they'll never be fit enough to cope in the wild again). The hospital can see between 200-300 admissions each year, although there were just 10 patients with a further 4 receiving home-care: that's where a koala is homed with a volunteer as it needs round the clock attention and the hospital is unstaffed during the night. Most patients arrive with burns from bush-fires or after being hit by motor vehicles. Other injuries can be caused by dog attacks and Chlamydia is a big problem leading to serious urinary infections and or blindness. Once fit to be released they will be returned as close as possible to where they were found. Koalas don't stray far from their home patch as they can only digest the eucalypt leaves of a limited number of the many varieties that exist ,and will often be made ill if they try to eat any others - even if they are fine for other koalas. I left quite impressed by the work which is done and more knowledgeable about koalas in general.

I had a quick walk round the Kooloobung Creek Nature park following a circular trail along boardwalks, through rainforest and ferns, mangroves, banksias and reeds. It was largely peaceful other than the din from the crickets and other beasties and the birds and bats cawing tweetering and screeching overhead. While I was hearing lots of wildlife I was seeing very little - the disappearing tails of a few water dragons or skinks was about all - but I was feeling plenty. The biting insects were obviously out in force and I was becoming a tasty smorgasbord for them. A few days of having been bite free was obviously too long for me to expect anything else, and when I saw a notice saying the many different types of spiders in the park were only mostly non-venemous I decided to make my way out again before they took their share too!! As it was I got bitten by something that didn't like me and made my wrist and the back of my hand swell up like a balloon, but fortunately it returned to normal within about 36hrs.

Newcastle was a really likeable place. Situated on the coast at the mouth of the River Hunter its a hilly and vibrant city with lots of grassy parklands and a big busy port: tugs and pilot boats seem to be constantly taking container ships in and out the channel. As I walked along the rocky breakwater separating the river from the ocean one was being escorted out and as soon as it was clear of the point the next was ushered in. Looking out to sea I counted over 20 cargo boats lying offshore, presumably waiting their turn. The weather had improved again with much more warmth which was bringing the crowds down to enjoy the beaches and pools for the weekend. There was a real lively buzz to the place. Surfers were enjoying the huge waves crashing onto many of the beaches which were strung along the edge of town, snorkellers hugged the rocky shores, and swimmers enjoyed the open-air sea filled pools: there was a complex at the oceanside with a laned pool for the serious swimmers and a large shallow pool surrounded by sand primarily designed for kids. It was bounded by a large flat rocky border over which the waves crashed into the pool - but which also had a fence to stop anyone being washed back out with the returning sea! Further round, at the foot of the cliffs was another pool for the braver fun swimmers. Here the massive breakers crashed against the rocky poolside creating huge high white splashing torrents of cold water which refreshed the "bogey hole" (as it was charmingly called) and soaked the bathers and anyone near the poolside. I ambled along the clifftop path which gave magnificent views in all directions, and seeing several hang-gliders swooping off the cliffs I went to have a closer look and it just comfirmed my previous opinion that hang-gliders must be a bit mad!. The take-off site was a tiny triangle of land at Strzlecki Lookout (named after a Polish geologist who had researched a lot of mining activity in the area) with virtually no chance of pulling up once going for take-off. It was definitely a case of jump and fly or heaven help you. Also, watching a couple of guys erecting their gliders I realised how basic they really are. It was just like pitching a tent: sorting out the poles, feeding them into the appropriate slots and tightening the guy ropes. Its no wonder its largely solo flights because if there was the same "debate" as exist when two or more people try to pitch a tent or awning there would be fun!! One double glider was there from a company which offers scenic flights for tourists. One lad went while I watched but there is no way on this earth you'd get me even contemplating it. Watching, most gligers landed at a little park further down the coast but the tandem came back to the tiny triangle it left from. As I say - mad. Even the guy from the flight admitted the landing was a bit intimidating. As I watched I was also sidetracked and amused by a guy taking his pet cockatoo for a walk on a lead. It seemed happy enough, spoke a little and was obviously the guy's pride and joy - it certainly takes all sorts!!

I'd enjoyed my visit to Newcastle and thought of you and Steve a lot Lesley - there were so many links to English Newcastle: the mining connection, the hills, the river, the port, placenames such as Morpeth, Hexham and so on, and when I left the bus driver really reminded me of someone but it took me a moment to twig who it was - Gordon -he could have been a brother!

Back in Sydney I had a fantastic day taking a feryy across the harbour to Manly. On yet another fine sunny day the beach was filled with people - too busy to be enjoyable as far as I was concerned- so I followed a trail along the shore and up the hill to the cliffs and more spectacular scenery. The scrub was thick and pretty with lots of wild flowers and the outlook to the sea was stunning. High layered cliffs jutting in and out in both directions - the sea crashing onto the rocks below. The trail continued up the hill passing an old quarry which is now a hanging swamp for frogs and reptiles but from which the stone for a beautiful old wall (in the 1800s it separated quarrantined land from church land ) that I had to cross under had come. Continuing on the track myself and a few other people eventually reached North Head. We'd all met up at various point trying to establish where we were on the walk - between the 5 parties there were 3 different maps and none were particularly clear so there's definitely a job available there for any budding cartographer! Previously an army barracks and artillery school its now a visitors centre and gateway to further walking track. Walking through more thick, pretty, scrub land of banksias, grass trees, coastal tea-tree and others I reached a series of stunning lookouts, each one more jaw-droppingly beautiful than the last. From the first you looked out over the Northern beaches and from the rest across the harbour to Syney city centre and then the South Head. "The Gap" between North and South heads forms the entrance between the ocean and the estuary and harbour. The seas and cliffs and view are spectacularly beautiful, particularly on such a warm sunny day. There was a slight haze blurring the distant skyline but it was still magnificent. At one point a guy offered to take a photo for me, and with the wind blowing away my map we both set off chasing them and ended up sliding way down the hill. I had momentary visions of us both ending up swimming but fortunately there were plenty bushes to break our fall and we stopped safely after only a few yards. Poor guy, though, probably wished he'd kept his mouth shut and carried on walking! I admired the vistas for a while then watched as a couple of tiny looking boats were bobbing and tossing about in the huge swell below. As I descended back to the wharf and caught a ferry back to circular quay it was reasonably choppy and I was glad I wasn't in one of the wee boats I watched earlier - it wouldn't have been much fun.

With my visit to Oz almost over I went to the pictures to see "Australia" - the new film with Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. As you can imagine its been much hyped here, but I have to say it was a bit of a disappointment. There were a few nice scenic shots at the beginning and end of the film and the wee boy playing one of the central roles was good, as was his aboriginal grandfather (who didn't have many lines but lots of expression), but other than that the film was pretty corny and the central relationship between Sarah and the drover was not convincing. It was also long. Its definitely a bit of a chick flick, with Hugh providing some nice eye-candy for us girls, rather than a film to appeal to the guys I think. If you particularly want to see it do, but if you're at the picture torn between two films I'd pick the other one!

And with that my three months in Australia were up. I can't believe how fast the time in Oz passed, but I have thoroughly enjoyed it, and having clocked up over 17,000km between greyhound bus, train and car, I have definitely managed to see a lot. It was a strange feeling heading to the airport and moving to another country again, but I was also excited and looking forward to seeing New Zealand.

ACT Quickly

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 10:30:00 GMT

I arrived in the Australian Capital Territory for a short visit on a cold and wet morning. I was intrigued to find out what I'd make of Canberra having heard very mixed stories about the place. By the time I left again I could see why opinion is divided about the place - I'm still not sure really what I make of it. Its a planned city and as such, to my mind, it feels too compartmentalised: sure it has a city centre but it feels empty with not much life to it and a lot of its attractions are spread out around the city leaving "the centre" kind of redundant. It made me think of Glenrothes - lots of different precicts with their own appeals but nothing to bind it all together into one community. (sorry all you Glenrothes-ites who I've probably just offended, but most of you know my opinion of the place already anyway!) What Canberra does have going for it is the seat of governement with a stylish parliament building, and a number of museums and galleries. The stand out attraction for me being the War Museum. I went thinking I wasn't really a War Museum type of person and not anticipating spending too long there, but ended up staying for hours and could easily go back another time with lots more to see. It was a fantastically interesting, thought provoking and informative place which could appeal to people of all ages. My visit really started as I walked up Anzac Parade - that's the main avenue leading up to the war memorial, Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and museum which are all combined in one big imposing complex. The parade is a long straight road running up from Lake Burley Griffiths, which cuts through the middle of the city, and is flanked by some wonderful statues and monuments commemorating different wars and battles which the Australian forces, and the forces of the counties they have fought alongside, have been involed in. Almost all of them are attractive pieces of art in their own right using glass, slate, marble, stone, water, pillars, obelisks and sculptures to create beautiful but yet powerfully poignant structures. A little plaque at each one explains the story behind the symbolism and details the battle or organisations being commemorated. It is very striking and effective. Inside the museum I joined a free guided tour expecting it to give a quick general overview, but in the end it lasted nearer two hours and introduced us to: the Australian war effort and major battles of the first and second world wars; the hall of valour with the stories, medals and citations of the recipients of all the top bravery awards; a collection of aircraft; the Vietnam conflict; peacekeeping rolls since 1945; the role of nursing to the military; war reporting, and so on. The volunteer guide was knowledgeable and obviously had several years military service behind him so had some interesting anecdotes too. It was fascinating even for someone not usually a fan of military history. I came away wanting more so spent more time looking round myself after the tour. I watched short film and light shows used alongside some of the exhibits powerfully conveying some of the dangers and horror of war, I had another look at some of the dioramas and summaries of the stories outlined, looked at some of the paintings and drawings - some of which I found strangely beautiful as well as illustrative and sombre, and visited sections we hadn't stopped at on our tour. One of the beauties of the museum, too, is that everything on display is original. There are no replicas or copies, and despite the vastness of the place only about a third of the available artefacts can be displayed as there's no room for everything. Another section is primarily designed for children, but seems to be enjoyed by young and old alike, and has sections of helicopter cockpit to clamber through, a segment of submarine complete with visual screenings viewable through periscopes, trench reconstructions and so on. Fraser, I thought you and Alexander would probably have great fun there! Rounding off my visit I went to the eternal flame which is in a pool flanked by walls inscribed with the names of all the fallen, and in front of a mausoleum containing the tomb of the unknown soldier. Octagonal, every wall is has lovely mosaic tiles and or stained glass windows each representing a character trait such as endurance, determination, dignity, honour and so on. Very poignant.

An altogether different place, but one I also enjoyed visiting, was the parliament building. It is very striking yet also very much part of the natural landscape with a substantial part built into the hillside and covered in lawn and just the grassy hill, a huge arch, crest and flagpole, all fronted by a large concorse, is visible from groundlevel. Inside it's equally striking but with lots of marble, polished wood, columns, paintings, tapestries, portraits and nationally historic items of furniture. I was surprised by how small the rooms were though. Even the Grand Hall wasn't that huge. In fact it didn't seem much bigger than Elgin Town Hall! The new parliament building was only completed in 1988 after a competition had been run to select a design. It has a mixture of classic design features intended to symbolise the past, the debating halls are meant to represent the present, and light and glass reflect the future - glass roofing allowing in places allowing the building to look to the skies and whats to come! There are some lovely wall-hangings, the parquet wooden floors are covered in thick clear vynil to maintain the gloss and to enable easy repairs necessary as a result of the wear and tear from modern footwear, plaster has fine marble particles in it to make it more hard-wearing, and landscaped courtyards provide a bit of green. There were also a number of water features incorporated into the design but these are largely left dry now to reduce water consumption- water shortages and usage being a huge issue all across Oz. All in all it was an impressive and likeable building. I never did get to see the Scottish Parliament before I left but it'll be something I'll look forward to when I get back and seeing how the two buildings compare and contrast given the similar controversies and debates about the design of both.

One place I visited, but was singularly unimpressed with, was the National Gallery. It was small and all the paintings were of a modernist, abstract, cubist style not to my tatse at all, and the frames were of the huge heavy ornate type which to me look too heavy for most pictures. For a national gallery I expected a range of styles, but no. I would have been happy with even one recognisable landscape or bonny watercolour but left disappointed. Ah well, just goes to show you can't please all of the people I suppose!

Before I knew it it was time for me to leave Canberra - a short but enjoyable visit. Even if I am uncoinvinced by the city itself the contents were great and attractions wide-ranging.

The Victorian Days

mogsie08-09 — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 00:05:00 GMT

Overnight we crossed into Victoria and the bus pulled into Melbourne's Southern Cross station early in the morning. Heading outside there still wasn't much sign of activity or orientation information available. After tracking down a map, however, I got directions for my hostel and arrived just in time for a free pancake breakfast - perfect timing! Perhaps not up to the standard of Is's but, hey, backpackers can't be choosers. Fully replete after my breakfast I went and did a load of washing, and, spotting a clothes line outside went to hang it out, but when I tried to get back in I discovered the door was only operable from the inside. I realised I was trapped in a garden with no gate and surrounded by a 6 foot fence - a bit of a problem when you're 5 foot and can't see over the top. Fortunately I could see the outline of people passing and was able to shout through to a guy passing and got him to go to the reception and get someone to release me, otherwise it could have been a long dull visit to Melbourne. I was hardly back in the building though when the fire alarms went off and we were all shepherded out and away round the corner. It wasn't long before we were allowed back inside , but I reckoned I should head out and about before I got myself involved in any more escapades. Melbourne was proving a bit of a contrast to the slow and genteel last few days in Adelaide! Out in the city I went walking and realised it was hillier than I'd previously given it credit for but likeable. There was a nice vibe to the place - lots of workers and 'city suits' mingling with the visitors and tourists. It was busy but not with the frantic pace you get in some cities and although there were lots of high-rise buildings all around I didn't feel hemmed in. I walked up Collins Street past the glitzy high end stores and into a building which housed what the tourist leaflets called "glass sculptures that represent significant Melbourne landmarks". Well, I thought I was in the wrong place at first, then discovered there were a few blocks of glass set on the floor on which, if you screwed your eyes up and stared at them for a while, you could see were etched with shapes which I presume were the local landmarks. It wasn't impressive! I carried on and further on I ventured in to the much grander foyer of one ofice tower which is home to many of the big financial companies and enterprises. Two walls were completely covered in gold leaf, there were 4 water pools, marble columns, bronze statues, and a huge wall hanging also glittering with gold leaf. It was like something from a movie set and a bit jaw droppingly rich. I left the marble foyer behind (complete with two doorside pillars which looked at first sight to be artificial trees but on closer look were actually sculptured columns of interlocking bodies) and carried on. I meandered along little lanes, main streets, past theatres and parliament, chinatown and street sculpture before arriving at Melbourne 360: a towerblock which houses an observation deck on the 55th floor giving views all round the city. Its no longer the tallest building - that honour goes to the Eureka tower which is 88 storeys high with a 3metre glass cube perched on the edge for those brave enough to step into it for the ultimate viewing experience. For me I reckoned I could see the city just as well from the 55th floor as the 88th! With earlier grey skies clearing you could see for miles and I realised just how compact the area of high-rises is in the city and how low-rise the rest is in comparison.

As an alternative to the city I walked down to St Kilda beach an alledgedly up market part of town. I was surprised by how unyuppified it was - maybe I was at the wrong end. It had turned into a warmish but grey afternoon and with the palm trees and yellowed grass egding the esplanade it just looked a bit washed out and as if the colours should have been much brighter. At the beach, despite the grey sky there were a surprising number of people still lounging about and even swimming and mucking about in the sea. I suspect a good number were british backpackers going to enjoy the beach regardless. I could be wrong as I wasn't speaking to them but the skintones were mainly as short on colour as the grass! A boardwalk ran between the sand and esplanade and I joined the walkers, joggers, cyclists and skaters, strolling along before heading down the little pier. Iwas then I realised how strong the wind was as I really had to lean into it to stop it blowing me off my step. At the far end a rocky breakwater carries on a bit further and I read that a type of water rat and little peguins live and breed amongst the rocks leading to the area being declared a special reserve. The best time for seeing both is dusk so I was too early, but not overly concerned as I was going to look for more the next day. A few leisure boats were moored in the area and were bobbing about in the wind. The lanyards were clanking noisily against the masts, too, and with the wind, rocks, boats and noise it reminded me of walking by the harbour at Nairn. I sat there for a while and admired the view over to the skyscrapers of the city in the distance. Even on this grey day they seemed to sparkle so I could imagine on a bright sunny day with a blue sky behind they would really twinkle and be quite striking.

Phillip Island is probably famous for two things: motorbikes and penguins. It was the latter that I was most interested in. I caught the local train and bus service from Melbourne and headed down through a lot of nice rolling green farmland to the island. It was nice to see the cattle after being devoid of such farming landscapes for so long. Staying in Cowes, the main town and so named because one of the early european generals thought it reminded him of the Isle of Wight, I went down to the esplanade. Its a pretty little area - grass slopes running down to small sandy beaches and waves crashing onto the shore. Not huge waves but more than just a gentle lap. I walked along the beachfront a little before going to wait for my pick-up to the penguins. Daily the little penguins come ashore at sunset and make their way across the beach to their burrows on the dunes behind. Getting dropped of at the reserve, I'd a quick glance in the shop before going through to the viewing area. The bay looked stunning - round and sandy with a few rocks mainly at one end of the beach. It was a wee bit like a shrunken Dunnet Bay with the cliffs at either end. The waves were fierce and really crashed in with a ferocity. It was a shame that no photography was allowed as it really was scenic: I understand no photos when the penguins are around but before it gets dark it should have been ok but the rangers were keeping a watchful eye and stopping anyone they saw with a camera. Anyway, as the darkness came in an odd one or two of the little penguins appeared in the shallows. They are just about 30cm high, and the smallest of the various breeds, darky inky blue in colour with just a white chest and belly. The time when they cross the beach to the burrows is the most dangerous and stressful time for them as they can be picked off by birds of prey and harrassed by seagulls and terns so they tend to gather into groups and race across in numbers in the dark. They take a few attempts, humming and hawing and turning back, before taking all their courage in their wings and making the dash for their burrows. As the darkness fell a first group of about 12 pengins raced across, then another group had a couple of attemts before "crossing the divide", and anther and another and so on. An odd one or two braved it themselves and a few twos or threes but they were the exceptions - mostly it was larger rafts (the collective noun for penguins). Occasionally one seemed to get lost and would teeter back down the beach trying to find the right path. Later the rain came on really heavy, and with it being a really cold wind coming from the southern seas I started to make my way back for my lift back to Cowes. At the top of the viewing area I realised how many of the birds had their burrows just there and the noise they were making was surprisingly loud: "Trill, Trill" cries and "chatter chatter" calls. There were very distinct different tones aswell dependant, I suppose, on the ages and sexes of the birds. It was a great experience all round, but cold and wet I was quite happy to head back to my "burrow" at the hostel. Before heading back to Melbourne, the next day I went walking around the outskirts of town before crossing down to another beach. It still wasn't very warm but the sun was getting stronger and the sand was a golden tan colour with the water breaking gently in great "S" bends along the beach - a real wavy line! The arcs of the sand between the sea's reaches were rippled with puddles od sea infilling them slightly. Along the shore's edge were long bands of what I thought at first were tiny mussell shells, but which on closer inspection turned out to be thin leaves encrusted with a film of salt and starting to curl and shrivel up. Also dotted along the sands were logs and branches bleaching over time. The bushes and trees on the coast edge were being brought down onto the beach as the face was being eroded by wind and tide creating a real ribbon of green amongst the sand and stone. All in all it was very picturesque and with a few others out enjoying the walk I felt right at home. It'll surprise few of you I imagine that it confirmed to me that wherever I settle in future it'll always be near the sea or water. For all I love the big wide open spaces, the desert and so on, for me there is something magical and relaxing about water. I walked along to observation point where I had to turn back as the rest of the beach was a reserve for nesting hooded plovers. Arriving back in town I soon had to go for the bus back to the city, but having had a great weekend.

Next up was a day trip along the Great Ocean Road - the highway which winds its way along the spectacular south coast of Victoria. Starting from Melbourne, and picking up some more people in the town of Geelong en route, our first stop was at Bells Beach - a world famous surfing spot in the town of Torquay. The surf was high and there were a couple of groups of 5 or 6 hardy souls having a go. It wasn't the warmest of days, and the water is cooler on the south coast anyway, so even with their wet suits it must have been chilly. I certainly wouldn't have been tempted. From there we went to Spit Head Lighthouse complete with nice views of the rocky coastline (hence the original need for the lighthouse being built in 1891) including one outcrop called Eagle rock. It looked more like a castle to me and there were no signs of large birds overhead so I've no idea why it was so named! Continuing on our way it was a lovely drive: twisty and undulating as it clung to the forrested hillsides and coastline in and around all the coves and bays. Sometimes at the water's edge, othertimes high above it with a sheer drop at the side of the bus. All the while the waves were crashing onto the rocks and beaches, white breaking the grey-blue-green seas. Our next stop was at Kennet River where (yipee!) I finally saw my first koalas in the wild! The hillsides there are particularly thick with gum trees and a sizeable colony still live in the area. I was delighted to spot one clinging to a branch as soon as we turned onto a little side-track. Stopping and getting out I then saw three or four more. Its taken a while but it was great to finally find them and now I can say I've spotted just about every kind of native australian animal! Leaving there we carried on to our lunch stop at Apollo Bay. The sand was still surprisingly warm given the grey day - nice on the toes- and the semi-circular bay, complete with little stone harbour at one end seemed to be held in place by the green hills rising behind. On a clear sunny day it would be really stunning. After lunch we stopped in an area of sub-tropical rainforest called Mait's Rest and had a super walk amongst some ferns and Myrtle Beech trees. The ferns in particular were lovely as the sun had started to appear and was shining through the canopy creating a real mass of different shades of green from really dark to almost yellow. Real picture book stuff. Leaving there the road continued to twist and turn through the rolling Otway hills and plain, leaving the ocean for a while as we passed through lush green dairy farming land. It was great to enjoy that rolling green countryside for a change. Gradually snatches of coastline came back into view and we reached The Twelve Apostles (even though there are now only 9 as 3 have already crumbled into the sea - the last one in 2005). With the sun now fully out and blue sky it was stunning: the towering yellow sandstone stacks standing out proudly from the foaming, thundering turquoise sea below. The stacks are lagely sheer but with huge fissures evident in many and ragged sharp corners. It was fantastic to see them looking just as magnificent as the publicity photos show them. From the apostles we went to Loch Ard Gorge and if anything it was even more spectacular. One huge long stack was understandably called the Razorback and stood just apart from the main body of the cliff creating a wild foaming channel between the two. Just round from it is the gorge itself which was named after a ship of that name which crashed into the cliffs in an early morning mist in May 1896, just hours from its destination and killing 54 of the 56 people on board. Thr gorge walls were again of sheer golden sandstone glimmering in the sun. The walls tapered in at the back with stalagtytes hanging over the head of the beach. The little rounded beach had golden sand to match the walls which, after widening a little narrowed again at the entrance to the cove forming a trap that the waves crashed into wildly. I risked a paddle but don't think the water covered my ankles before I was back out trying to warm my feet in the sand! Moving on we had our last stop of the day at London Bridge. And before you say it, no, not that one, another one! Originally two archways connected to the mainland, only one now remains adrift from the shore. The other collapsed in 1990 as a result of the tide and weather's eating away at the stone. Two people who had been walking on the bridge were stranded there and lucky not to have been on the wrong arch else they would have been killed, however for one of them it opened up a whole can of worms: obviously it was a big news story and the media came running filmimng their plight and subsequent rescue, but wondering why the guy was trying so hard to avoid the cameras it soon transpired he was out with his girlfriend having told his wife he was on a business trip!! Talk about your sins finding you out. We turned back towards Melbourne, travelling the inland road this time, having had a fantastic day.

My last couple of days in Melbourne were spent quietly, just wandering and walking as the mood took me. I went back to the pier at St. Kilda and saw a few more of my penguins, and strolled past Albert Park (but, Jill, there were no spare F1 cars or tickets to be seen!!), and spent a nice afternoon in the botanic gardens. They were a real haven within the city and sitting in the aromatic herb garden or contemplating the meaning of life beside a pond full of beautiful water lillies was as strenuous as it got!

As if to ensure my departure from the city was as memorable as my arrival, we had a bit of a performance with the trams as I made my way to the bus for Benalla: about to pull away from the stop at the interchange, a tram appeared on the same line but coming towards us, and with another behind us we could go nowhere! The approaching driver was less than impressed at ours having "encroached" onto his line and made it clear we should reverse a bit (there is a manual system with drivers doing their own points changing at some stops. Our driver was a bit hesitant and didn't go back far enough much to the disgust of the other driver. Meanwhile ours was on the phone to his supervisor to find out what was going on, while the first one just wanted him to move. Finally we all got shuffled around and carried on our separate ways, but I'll definitely remember my first and last days in Melbourne!

Arriving safely at Benalla (one time home range of Ned Kelly) I had a nice couple of days staying with Hank's cousin Maryleith, Robert and Brylie the dog. We chatted, window shopped and had a nice walk round the park and lakeside in Benalla itself, and a trip to nearby Shepparton which is a major centre for the fruit growing and canning industries. They spoilt me rotten basically - I got another super roast dinner, wasn't allowed to do anything to help them round the house, and even got a lift to my bus at midnight despite Robert having to be up again for work about 4 o'clock. Safely aboard we soon crossed out of Victoria and I said goodbye to yet another of the states of Australia.

The Long Straight

mogsie08-09 — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 20:00:00 GMT

I was looking forward to having another long train journey and seeing how it compared to the trans-siberian - the trip to Adelaide would take about 42hours. As I got checked in I could see that Australia could learn a lot from the Russians - the terminal building was uninspiring to say the least, and as its quite a way out of the city centre there aren't many other people around to give it any kind of life. After checking in I had a stroll the length of the train and back before waiting in the building while the train was readied for departure. My carriage was the last of about a dozen with a luggage van and three car transporters, carrying about 20 cars between them, behind. We boarded and departed exactly on time and got a spiel from the night manager about the general housekeeping arrangements. The carriage itself was clean and comfy enough but lacked the personal touch of a provodnitsa. I just had a seated carriage and it was laid out in rows of 2x2 like an airline. The woman in the seat next to me was a bit dull and monotoned to say the least. I should have sussed straight away when she came and sat down: the carriage was warm but she sat with her long coat on, jeans tucked into her boots, bag clutched on her lap kind of reminiscent of a taller slimmer version of Les Dawson's Cissy. Saying hello, I kind of got a non-commital "ohh" in reply. When staff came asking for tickets she said she didn't have any then proceeded to produce 3! I realised then that she might be hard work over the next couple of days! For the next wee while she kept herself to herself, then asked me whether I'd hay fever or a cold. I explained it was a cold and all was quiet until she turned to me later and said in her slow dull voice "Garlic!" I didn't know whether I was meant to understand, whether she was just talking to herself, as she had been earlier, or what. Querying it, she explained that I should take garlic as it was good for colds. Not having learned my lesson yet I laughed and said I did have some in my chiller bag, so later on she asked how my garlic was doing!! Periodically throughout much of the rest of the journey she would make random statements, or ask silly questions to which I wouldn't know the answer, and by the time she asked me how much a flight from Perth to Adelaide would have been I politely told her I didn't know, but silently I was wishing to high heaven that she was on one!! Apart from her the trip was going ok. We plodded on slowly past huge flat wheat fields and into gum tree lined bush, stopping in Kalgoorlie for a few hours then on across the Nullarbor Plain. With just some kangarros bounding along and a few wedge-tailed eagles looking for prey as company we travelled along the longest straight stretch of railway track in the world: all 478km of it. Apart from a ridge of rocks running parrallel to the railway line marking the location of the underground fibreoptic communication cables between WA and the eastern states, the empty desert stretched off as far as the eye could see. Eventually we reached the 'township' of Cook and we were able to get out for a couple of hours as driving crews changed and water was topped up. Cook itself consisted of little more than toilets, a drinking water fountain, an office for railway workers and a small shop selling a limited range of drinks, magnets and commemorative tea-towels to the tourists from the trains. It was nice to get outside however, even though it was almost 40degrees and accompanied by a stiff breeze which blew sand into your face for much of the time. As we carried on again we stopped a couple of times to drop off some passengers at tiny outposts with no sign of habitation for miles all around, leaving me wondering just where the passengers were going. Eventually, having crossed into South Australia and completed the "straight stretch" we continued winding our way until we drew into Adelaide. Reflecting on the journey across the plain I'm glad I did it and appreciated being able to see the scenery, albeit its an empty landscape, but the trip didn't have the magic of my other long-distance train rides. Whether that was because I wasn't feeling my best, a result of by boring companion, the fact that the journey is now primarily a tourist passage rather than a routine travel route, or a combination of all three I haven't decided. Anyway, at the station I managed to loiter a bit until the first shuttle bus left taking my travel-mate with it, before catching a bus into town in peace.

The next few days in and around Adelaide were spent fairly uneventfully and quietly as I tried to finally shrug off the cold which was more persistant than I liked. I did enjoy wandering round the stalls of the central market though. It was a really colourful mish-mash of stalls selling fresh produce of all sorts at very resonable prices and largely all locally sourced. There was fruit and veg, meat and fish, breads and cakes, herbs, pasta and cheeses. It was busy too, and with the noise and bustle and the shouting of the stallholders there was a wonderful atmosphere to the place. It was a good place to buy but it was also good just to wander and enjoy.

I also took a trip down to the nearby coastal town of Glenelg - just half an hour from Adelaide. Once you get past the main street which is pretty much the same as any other small town main street, you arrive at a pretty little plaza. A mixture of modern boxy and older character filled buildings form the entrance to the promenade and the beach beyond. A series of spouting water fountains provide a playground for the young (and young at heart) to race round and through getting soaked as the fountains randomly spurt. The area is surrounded by cafes, eateries and benches just to sit. Palm trees fringe the area and line the path down to a decorative tower commemorating the first colonial landings in the region. On the green in front of the little jetty camel or pony rides were offered although both animals looked a bit tired and neither were getting many takers. I passed too, and after a stroll down the pier and back I wasn't tempted to join the hardy souls trying to sun themselves on the breezy beach, instead going to the little local museum. It was small but fairly interesting, concentrating on local heros and characters. Central to the displays was a section on Jimmy Marsh a young local aviator who broke various aeronautical records in his short life and career, including for quick flights from the UK to Australia, before trgically being killed in a plane crah at the age of just 22.

Back in Adelaide I spent a lovely afternoon in the Botanic gardens. The hush that descended almost as soon as I stepped in through the gates from the busy main road was incredible. The gardens are set on gently sloping land with most of the walkways edged by taller trees and lawns and themed gardens spanning out behind. Ducks waddled about despite the lack of any water of much significance - there was a small pond but I presume most must have come up from the river for a visit! Other birds - parrots, cockatoos and other exotic and unfamiliar species flew about and called, chirped and twittered overhead or rustled about in the undergrowth. Behind beds of colourful ground cover plants were some veggies and tatties - although it was still early for the tatties here and they didn't look a patch on dad's anyway! A lovely big avenue was lined by huge old fig trees creating a super cool canopy in what had turned into a warm sunny day. Beyond that again was a mediterranean garden with a lgently flowing water channel tipping out into a pool at the end. The gentle trickling of the water was restful and hypnotic in the warmth. An arbour of wysteria separated that area from a glass house of rainforest plants. It looked a bit triffid-like though as the canopies pressed against the glass roof as if desparately trying to break free. there was also a colourful rose garden and although many of the roses seemed to be past their best the aroma was heady. It was nice to get that real rose scent and not just pretty looking flower heads. I wandered round for a couple of hours or more before eventually leaving.

My last day in Adelaide I spent walking in the northern part of the city. As soon as I reached the river Torrens which separates the two parts it became quieter and less bustling. The river isn't very wide and is quite slow flowing but there are landscaped embankments lining either side and several groups of people were dotted along the banks watching the world go by. I walked along the riverside entertained by the ducks, pelicans and black swans swimming or ambling about and the odd fish jumping and splashing in the river. Stopping in the shade of the trees I was joined by an older guy, who although I think might be a bit eccentric, was humerous enough, and a bit of a grey nomad. We chatted and exchanged travel stories before I moved on and up to the northern suburbs. There were great views to be had over the CBD and out to the hills beyond the city, and obviously one of the more affluent areas of town and a central part of old Adelaide, it was enjoyable whiling away some time strolling round the area until I headed back towards the river and back to my hostel to collect my luggage before going to catch the bus to my next destination - Melbourne.

Adelaide is a pretty but quiet city. It was fine spending a few days here but that was long enough to visit most of its attractions. I was ready to move on.

Shiver My Timbers

mogsie08-09 — Wed, 5 Nov 2008 23:45:00 GMT

Perth was cold. Well, maybe that's not strictly true, but at just 20-22 degrees it was much colder than I've become used to and I had to dig out my long trousers and fleece! Goodness knows what I'd need if I came home right now - I've become such a softy I'd probably need several jumpers. Having said that it did warm up a bit when the sun came out but I've definitely moved to a different climatic zone. And, now don't you all fall over in shock at this, but the first couple of things I went to do I was too early in the day for! Whoever would have thought I would be too early for anything before I started travelling?! Anyway I went walking and exploring the city instead . Heading down to the river I joined a great walkway/ cycle path which runs all along the riverside. The river was wide, calm and blue and sparkled invitingly in the morning sun. I strolled all the way along until I met the freeway again and skirted round the centre of the city until I reached a set of stairs leading up to King's Park. The steps were steep - very steep - and consisted of about 10 flights of 15 steps each, and although very narrow are obviously used as the step class for the locals! People were racing up and down them several time until they looked as if they were about to expire and collapsed in a heap at the top until they could regain their composure and hobble off trying to look cool and composed. Nutters is all I'll say! I left them to it and went for a lovey walk in the park instead. Amongst other things it contains open recreational ground, the botanic gardens with themed areas and walkways, nature trail, cafe, gallery, and offers some amazing views out down the river and across the city. The gardens offered a lovely mix of sunshine and shade through dense planting trees and bushes. Mostly green foliage but occasional dashes of colour added contrast. There were Boabs and Banksias, a conservation garden, water garden, Tuart trees, grevillias, lookouts and little information boards dotted all around. Part of the walk took me over an elevated metal and glass pathway which crossed the treetops offering a different perspective to the place again. At the water garden I watched in a pond as a shoal of tiny fish devoured a fallen leaf - attacking it just like ants with a leaf on the ground. In a little stream a pair of ducks were taking their large brood for a swim while further round in a pond another family were resting after earlier exertions! They were really funny as in the pond stands a statue of mother and child. mother duck was sitting with her family on the next door plinth as if to say "she's only got one - look at my lot"! They were dozing happily anyway and totally unperturbed by water fountains spouting randomly and getting higher and higher all around them All the kids in the area were loving it daring each other to go closer ans closer until the strongest of the fountains would fire off soaking anyone in the way. It was just a lovely place to while away time. Another enjoyable visit was to the West Australia museum. All the usual exhibits were there: animals and people; stars ans space, aborininal history and so on, but what I particularly liked was a temporary exhibition of nature Photographs. The ANZANG (Australia, New Zealand, Antarctica and New Ginnea) awards promote photography in and around their countries. There were some stunning immages of animals, landscapes, man's impact, good and bad, on the environment, action shots and stills. If the accommpanying book wouldn't have just about doubled the weight of my rucksack I would have been tempted! All in all though Perth was a wee bit disappointing - its an attractive enough place but with not an awful lot within the city for the visitor. I think its more a city for its inhabitants or for those using it as a base to explore the surrounding area. I left it and headed down to Fremantle and to meet up with Mike and Lesley. They took me for a drive along the attractive looking riverside before going home for a fantastic roast dinner. After 4 months of pretty uninspiring dinners you've no idea how much I appreciated that home cooked roast chicken, tatties, pumpkin, stuffing, neeps, brocolli and gravy, followed by Apple pie and ice-cream and all washed down with a glass of wine or three! Mmmm Yumm! It was wonderful. Thanks guys. Next day we had a bit of a drive round the area and stopped at Resolution Point where you could look right down the river across a large sand spit towards Fremantle. Two or three dolphins swam in the river and a couple of black shouldered kites circled overhead. We drove back to Freo alongside the coast and beaches and although the sky was grey overhead there was still a turquoise hue to the sea. In town Mike took me to the Shipwreck museum: a fascinating place. During the 1600s a number of ships belonging to a Dutch group, VOC, were plying their trade back and forwards to the Spice Islands and Java in Indonesia. Navigation was still an inexact science and several ships were lost around the Australian coast. One of them, the Batavia, forms a central part of the museum's collection, with its story being told and artefacts on show. There is a section of the boat on display and although it looks quite sizeable, when you see images and scale models of the ship you realise the segment is only a very small part really. It would have been a huge vessel. Also on display are maps from the same era and its amazing how accurate the cartography is. The whole west coast of Australia is pretty much as it is. The separation of Oz from Indonesia is not quite right, and Tasmania is somewhat off course, but they obviously were very much aware of its existance. Other things on display included tools, coins and dishes recovered from the various wrecks, along with pipes, ships bells and anchors and a selection of weaponry. There was even a millers stone which had been recovered, and with only half of it being restored the concretion on the other half clearly illustrated how much work had been done by the marine archeologists and historians. I spent ages looking round the place. Its one of those museums where you can become engrossed by something different every time you visit, I'm sure. When I left there I had a stroll round the attractive town cntre although with wind and rain it was a quick wander before I took the lazy way out and hopped on a bus instead! I ended up at the maritime museum which was not a patch on the shipwreck one. Certainly its in a big,striking, architect designed building but the inside doesn't live up to the exterior. It was largely just a haphazard collection of boats from through the years and with not much information about the history behind them. Amongst them however was Australia II - the yacht which won the Americas Cup for Oz back in the 80's. It struck me how little and old fashioned it looks now when you remember how revolutionary it was at the time. On leaving there I went back to Mike and Lesley's and another delicious dinner - salmon this time. I'm telling you they run a fantastic hostel!! I'd organised to go to Rottnest Island next day and was able to leave from the jetty more or less at the end of their street. It was quite a windy day and when we were all handed out sick bags and warned it may be choppy I realised it might not be the smoothest crossing ever! As soon as we left the port walls and hit open water the buffeting started. The boat crashed over waves, the spray hitting the windows like a bucket of water flung directly at them. It certainly wasn't winter in the Minch but for several passengers it was a bit too much. Presumably in order to get fresh air into the cabin the door out to the bow was left open but it really just served to provide a shower for the first few seats. We rocked and rolled through the waves past a few tankers sheltering from the ocean and safely arrived in Rottnest, not too late. Even with the stormy seas it looked appealing: pure white crests on deep blue sea, creamy white beach, and orangey-yellow buildings lining the sea wall. I went to hire a bike and it being a short and not too hilly island I opted for the basic single-geared type. I took my "kit" down to the hostel - the old army barracks- and my dorm was formerly the commanding officer's room, but whereas he would have had it to himself it now sleeps ten. Bag deposited I set off to cycle down to the western tip 10-11km away. The island is beautiful and so made me think of West Coast Scotland and any one of a number of the islands and bays there. The tisting roads hiding sheltered little bays of rocky lined, white sanded hideaways. The sea was clear and even on a stormyish day you could see the range of colour with the gentle aquamarine at the sandy shore giving way to the blue-black of the deeper and rougher seas. Even the grasses and wildflowers, although of different types to home, had a similar appearance and colourings. Remnants of long ago wrecked ships dotted the coastline rotting and decaying with the frequent battering by the tides. I soon regretted my choice of bike though: single geared into a strong headwind on a twisty and undulating road is, I consoled myself, very good for the calf and thigh muscles! Fortunately the land and seascapes gave plenty of excuses to stop admire - and push! Once I did reach Cape Vlamingh at the far end of the island the effort was suitably rewarded. A dramatic raggedy cliffed meeting of seas on a blustery day offered stunning and mesmerising scenery. Most of the wildlife was staying under cover but the beautiful sight lost nothing for all that. I wandered round the boardwalk staring at the different outlooks and amazed by the density of the spray. It then dawned on me that the wind and spray had caked my specs in a mist of salt and with just a little bit of fresh water and cloth I could remove the cataract effect! Heading back I clung to the Northern side of the island rather than the south I'd come down and fortunately it was a bit easier going with the wind in my face less often. Dotting up and round the bays I gradually made my way back towards Kingston. On the way I climbed up Oliver Hill - the high point on the island and sight of gun placements during the war but now offering a good vantage point to look out over and admire the island from. Heading back to the settlement at Thomson's Bay I passed a couple of little lakes and there was so much foam blowing across the road from them it was just like cycling through fairy liquid washig up bubbles! I've rarely if ever seen so much foam in such a small area. Finally returning to the barracks for the night my legs knew they'd had a good workout! As the evening went on it got quite chilly with little to stop the wind blowing through the hostel - for soldiers in spartan conditions it must have been a miserable posting at times. Fortunately by next morning the wind had dropped and the sky was bluer so I cycled round to a lovely little bay called Parakeet Bay. It was small, perfectly proportioned and I had it all to myself apart from a couple of little birds doing their utmost to keep me away from a rocky outcrop where I presume they had a nest amongst the ledges and crevices. I left them to themselves and sat further round drinking in the atmosphere. I risked a little paddle but the water certainly wasn't warm enough to entice me to swim. After a while engrossed in the beauty of the place I looked up to see I'd been joined by a big yacht "parked" right in the centre of my line of sight - I hadn't even heard it arrive. After a while I returned to the main settlement and joined a walk to look foe Quokkas. They're the funny little marsupials now almost confined to the island and which gave it its name. The first Dutch sailors to visit the island thought they were large mutant rats so gave the name Rottenest - Rats Nest. Nocturnal by nature, and totally herbivorous, the quokkas were to be found dozing under the bushes beside one of the lakes on the edge of town. Water is of particular importance to them and while they can still get plenty moisture at this time of year, in the parched summer months they will become more visible as they scour the arid landscape for any water they can find. They are quite tame as they have no natural preditors, and a joey will stay with mum until its too big to get back in her pouch - about 10 months old. Only giving birth to one the mother will carry a second egg which will lie dormant and degenerate if baby one survives but which will develop if it dies for any reason. The quokkas also seem to have a built in weather forecasting system: somehow they seem to be able to detect if it is to be a long harsh dry summer when chances of survival are slimmer and tend not to breed that year! Many a meteorlogical office would like to know there secret I'm sure! Leaving the quokkas to their slumbers I returned to town and went on another guided tour, this time round some of the historic buildings. Used as a prison for aboriginals from the 1800s up to the early 1900s we toured the quod which had acted as their sellc and where they endured tough cold, damp conditions - particularly hard for those transported down from the tropical North. While many were harshly treated and suffered from many ailments as a consequence, there was some freedom of movement around the island on Sundays when they had a reprieve from working in the salt mines (at one time all the salt for Western Australia was produced on Rottnest and little trains carried it from the lakes from where it was excavated to a storeshed before it was transferred across the sea to the mainland) or carpentry workshops. The prison authorities were frequently in conflict with the captain and crew of the pilot boat- they seemed to be vying for importance and status between themselves. The pilot boat had a chequered career while stationed on Rottnest. Initially housed there in answer to the growing number of wrecks claimed by the reef laden waters, communication problems limited their successes and eventually led to the resiting of the boat back in Fremantle after miscommunication between the boat, lighthouse and a ship led to its wrecking on the rocks. With the introduction of motorised boats, too, it was quicker for them to respond from Fremantle than it had been when they had to rely on rowed boats. After a visit to the museum and reading more of Island life I had to reboard my ferry and head back to Freo. The return trip being much less bumpy than the way over. Lesley generously lent me her little car for the next few days so I was able to go off touring the South-west corner. I headed to Margaret River for a couple of nights, then Walpole and Albany before returning to Fremantle for the night before leaving Western Australia. Margaret River is a lovely little town, and as many of you may know its a well known wine region. So, I got myself onto a wine tasting tour and had a really great day! We went to four different wineries and had several different samples at each. All of them were small family owned and run enterprises aswell which was nice. The first one we went to was called Church View. They produce mostly whites especially Semillon-Sauvignon Blancs and I slurped along happily though some of their wines were slightly sweeter than I would choose for myself. Our next stop was at Treeton where again we had 4 or 5 tasters and my favourite was a shiraz. Sitting having some cheese and biscuits on their patio area just beside some of their vines, in the sun, with a large glass of that and chatting with the rest of the group (there was only myself another couple and the driver) was a very civilised and enjoyable way to pass a little time before our next stop! We were also entertained by the estate's soft lump of a dog - Sam. He sat in an old wine barrel watching us while we tasted, then as we ate our cheese and biscuits he came top sit with us head cocked to one side staring at us and the biscuits until we gave him one or two and he went back to his barrel. He may be daft but he's certainly not stupid! A short visit to a muesli business and chocolate factory (lovely samples at each) to sober us up before our next estate. The Bettenay estate was in a beautiful sheltered and picturesque little spot and after trying two whites and two reds we moved on to a couple of light rose wines, lightly fortified, and infused with hints of chilli - one hotter than the other. They were actually really nice although the stronger of the two had a real afterkick which sent me reeling! I reckon it was just aswell I had a cold and my tastebuds were a bit dulled!! The final stop of the day was at Adinfern estate where we had yet another 4 or 5 lovely wines to sample. (I cant quite remember how many exactly I don't know why my memory fails me slightly over the course of that day!!) After staggering out of there Pat dropped us off safe and sound back at our accommodation. It was a great tour and nice to visit the smaller estates rather than the big names which are more readily available at home. It also meant that there was a good bit of friendly banter exchanged between the owners and the visitors making for a fun day out and certainly no skimping on the samples on offer! When I left Margaret River I stopped at Lake Cave. Its not huge - about 62metres long and about 68metres deep - but it was enthralling. Originally a much larger and deeper cave, the original roof collapsed hundreds of years ago to expose a large crater. Nowadays you descend down walkways in the crater past Karri trees growing in the bottom of the hole and estimated to be about 350 years old. The limestone walls were mainly sheer but there were still examples of previously covered stalagtytes and stalagmytes on some of the faces, now slightly blackened as a result of sooting from bushfires which have passed through the area. Many were also covered in fine fleecy looking cob-webs making it look slightly eerie. Once at the bottom of the crater we went down a stairway into the cave as it exists now. It was lined by dripping straws, stalagtytes, stalagmytes, heliotytes and towers. The hollow straws drip rapidly and if they become blocked for any reason (a bit of grit possibly) then they slowly evolve into 'tytes'. No-one seems to be able to explain heliotytes which twist away horizontally forming a gravity defying structure balanced in mid air. Towers form when the tytes meet stalagmytes rising from below. With the surfaces of the cave in various formations it was easy to pick out some resembling different objects: dragons. cherubs, animals and so on. As the name of the cave suggests there is a little lake of water on the floor and with some gentle background lighting the reflections become clear and beautiful. Most striking was the central 'hanging table'. Two thick pillars support a flat base not far above the water surface creating a somewhat hypnotically mesmerising image. A subtle change in the colour of the lighting creating a wonderful show and with it being so peaceful it was easy to linger a while. Back at the surface, however, I carried on stopping briefly at Cape Leeuwin. The most south-westerly point in Australia it is the sight of Australia's tallest lighthouse and also where the Indian and Southern oceans truly meet. The coastline reflected the ruggedness that the meeting of two such powerful forces bring - dramatic rocky coastline with little sandy beaches, and whales passing in the distance. Travelling eastwards now as I headed towards Walpole I paused in Pemberton to see "The Gloucester Tree" Its 61 metres tall and has a spiral "ladder" of rungs embedded in the trunk so that you can climb to the top for spectacular treetop panoramas. Standing at the bottom seeing the rungs vibrating as people gingerly backed down (its only wide enough for one and an almost vertical climb in places) I knew there was no way in this world I was going up. I had visions of me stuck with trembling limbs part way up too terrified to go further up or down!! I contented myself with a ground level bushtrail instead before continuing on my way. After a meander round the friendly and scenic little township of Walpole I went to see a giant Tingle tree. Tingle trees are unique to that corner of South-west Australia and there are 3 types" Red, Yellow and Rates. The Rate tingle was named after John Rate, who persevered with research to prove that there was a third distinct variety (only two having been recognised for many years), but who ironically was killed by a falling limb from one of those same tingle trees! The reds are most interesting in that they are a very hard timber and exceptionally strong but can't be used in construction as it warps and bends. The trees are butress based and can grow to 60m high and 16m in girth. It has a very shallow root base that spreads out only about 1m at the most underground acting a bit like an angle bracket to support the tree. The base of the trunk is often hollowed out by diseaes, termite, fire or whatever, but the tree will still survive and thrive for its 400+ year lifespan. The famous giant tingle I visited is about 16m round and is wonderfully gnarled and hollow based. its supporting legs look wrinkled like a huge elephant's foot yet was beautiful too! Wandering round the area there were also lots of vividly coloured birds of varying kinds flying around catching the eye as a dash of colour passed by and more were calling noisily in the background. Blue wisteria plants tangled through the undergrowth adding a splash of colour to the ground foliage. It was a super place to spend some time. From there I headed to the "Valley of the Giants". Part of a national park area there are a couple of trails through the Karri forest and Tingle trees, including a treetop walkway suspended at about canopy level to allow you to appreciate the forest at leaf height. The walkway is up to 40m high amd about 600m long and gave a lovel vantage point to enjoy the beauty if the place. My highlight of the visit though was a guided walk on the forest floor. Tony the guide was great and talked non-stop about the trees, bushes, animals and so on switching effortlessly from one to the other and back again as we were prompted to ask questions. He talked about the tingles and Karri trees. Karries have a very smooth almost white bark on their very tall straight trunks until winter turns to spring when the thin white layer dies back turning darker and greyer. As summer moves on the thin bark peels away in great strips exposing a rough stringy bark with lovely yellowy-red colouring. The leaves too have a marvelous pink-green colour. He pointed out the tunnel network used by the bandicoots as their highway round the forest floor, and explained how some trees (I can't remember which ones now - there was so much information imparted) give off a strong aroma like a female wasp to encourage the males in to the flowers to ensure its pollen is collected and transferred to the next tree. Another titbit of information he had for us was how if there is a problem with a tingle tree not getting enough light it will rapidly sprout another limb from wherever the light does hit the tree. Once it reaches the canopy level and balance has been restored redundant limbs will be shed. He also pointed out huge burles on some of the tree trunks. Any disease is pushed out to the edge of the trunk like a huge wart where it can sit without causing further harm. Woodturners love it as it creates great colourings to work with, but when the park first opened they had touble for a while with over zealous wood turners coming with chainsaws to collect the easy pickings from the boardwalks! All in all it was a really enjoyable and informative visit. (and somewhere you'd love, mum and dad) When I left that area I headed to the pretty port town of Albany stopping at a picturesque little cove called William Bay. A short walk down through thickly vegetated dunes brought you to a curving band of light sands edging the large stones and rocks filling the bay and protected at the rear on three sides by the land climbing away from the coast. It was windswept and wonderful. Leaving a wet Albany behind I returned for a last night at Mike and Lesley's before the took me to the train and I bade farewell to the Western state, having really enjoyed the month or so I spent travelling round it since arriving in Kununurra. It's certainly a state of contrasts. In many ways a true reflection of all Australia has to offer.

Life's a Beach

mogsie08-09 — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 13:45:00 GMT

It had rained heavily for much of the night, but by the time we rolled into Broome at breakfast time the sun was back out and the temperatures were back up to my now customary (and expected) 30+degrees. I headed out to explore the town and landed at the "Pearl Luggers". Broome was really founded on the pearling, or to be more precise, Mother-of-Pearl industry and this fascinating little centre told the story. There were a couple of boats, from different eras, used in the peak of the pearling booms and after having a look at them we were taken into a little museum out of the worst of the heat to hear more about the history and the rise and fall of the trade in Broome. In short: a failing farmer attended an aboriginal corroboree and seeing that all the young men were wearing decorative mother-of-pearl loin guards. He asked where the shells came from and was shown to a nearby beach where there were literally tons of them strewn along the shore. Knowing the shells were needed for button making, he spotted the key to the end of his financial woes and gathered a boat load and set off for the markets in Melbourne. Unfortunately a storm blew up, his boat was lost and so was he! However, word of his haul was out and the money-men appeared in the area to harvest the shells. Initially it was free-diving and having to work at depths of up to 15 metres to gather the shells from the sea-bed it was hard and dangerous. The death rate from those involved was high because of the pressure put on the body by diving so far and surfacing so quickly in desperation for more air. Gradually hard-helmet diving was introduced, but that "technology" was in the infancy of its development and the dangers were still very real. In search of cheap labour prepared to take the risks involved, the sea-lords recruited from the Asian countries, especially Japan where there was a tradition of pride and honour to show the stregth and character of a man in undertaking such risky and dangerous work. Diving continued until the 2nd World War when the Japanese (who by that time made up 1/3 of the population of Broome) were imprisoned as part of the war sanctions which required the 'enemy' be rounded up lest they be potential sabboteurs or fighters. After the war most returned to Japan to help in the rebuilding of their country and/or in disgust at the way their adoptive country of many years had treated them. That, and the increased use of plastic buttons, hit the industry hard and it went into decline. It did continue on a smaller scale but it was still a very tough way of life. Several layers of shetland wool long johns and jumpers were worn under a rubber wet suit along with iron and leather diving boots, lead body weights and the copper helmet completed the ensemble, meaning a man could be carrying 140+ extra kilos of kit - about twice his natural body-weight. Accidental, and deliberate, deaths were common with feuding crews put together by the sea-lords as an apparent means to ensure the boats returned to port with their pearls and didn't just 'do a runner'. Hard helmet diving continued in Broome until the 1970's when line diving became more prominant, but nowadays, with sea stocks much depleted, it is mostly farmed cultivated pearls which are harvested around the area. And that, believe it or not, is the abridged version of the pearling story!! I found the talk and exhibition fascinating and captivating though, and really enjoyed my visit. To round off our visit we were given a taste of the pearl meat. It had a texture like smoked salmon, but with it having been marinated in vinegar and soy sauce it was the sweet vinegary flavour (similar to the gravy with my Shanghai buns!) which dominated. It was by no means unpleasant, but neither did I rush out to buy a stock for tea. Pasta or couscous and veggies does me quite fine! Having had a good dose of history I decided I was in need of some exercise so went on a three hour sea kayaking trip. With a little light cloud cover and a gentle breeze to prevent it getting too hot it was perfect for the trip. We set out from the far end of Cable Beach and paddled through the gentle waves. There are a set of dinosaur footprints in the seabed which are visible at low tide but that day the tide and swell was just too high to be able to make them out. (but I did see pictures of them on leaflets so it wasn't just a case of the guides laughing at the tourists looking for dinosaur tracks before anyone says anything!) We paddled on round Gantheaume Point and got a very quick glimpse of a turtle before it submerged again. Not much further on we stopped at a little beach and had a look at a couple of blow-holes in the sandstone cliffs. There was a super fossil of a fern embedded in the roof of the cave and a little bit of dinosaur bone next to it. It was amazingly distinct. We then had a little swim in the warm sea to cool off a little and enjoy the fine day before being tempted back to shore by juice and nibbles. Relaunching our boats we started to make our way back to our starting point. On the way we saw a couple more turtles and pair of brown boobies. Boys behave - that's diving sea birds, similar to gannets in that they dive and swim to catch their fish. One of a pair of ospreys which nest in the framework of the lighthouse (its got an open structure rather than the traditional brick to make it less of a solid mass for cyclones to hit) was standing guard over the nest very proudly and shouting for all it was worth for food from its mate. Seeing the ospreys here, and previously at Kununurra, was a nice link to home. Back at the beach we got the boats loaded back onto the trailer and returned to town. Walking round town later was a bit like strolling across an artists paintbox there were so many vivid colours: the sky was blue, the sea turquoise, red sand, yellowy-green playing fields, black roads, white kerbs and gum tree trunks, and green bushes and mango trees. Every garden seemed to have big heavily laden mango trees with the fruit overhanging the boundary fences. If I'd been just a few days later I'm sure the fruit would have been riper and I could have given them a gentle shake to encourage them to fall but as it was they were still too green so survived for another day. With history, nature and exercise boxes now ticked a day of rest and laziness was called for so I headed to the beach. I went back to Gantheaume Point and wandered round the rocks admiring the views and looking, again unsuccessfully, for the dinosaur prints. I did however find Anastasias Pool. One of the first lighthousekeepers there had carved out and built a bathing pool for his wife just below the high water mark. She had had arthritis type problems so couldn't clamber down to the water's edge to ease her joints. The pool was frequently refreshed by the tide and gave her a bathing pool with a view. After wandering round the rocks for a while I made my way to Cable Beach proper. Leaving the dune road the contrast between the iron rich red and silica laden white sand in such a short distance was incredible. With no cloud cover either the sea was a most beautiful aquamarine-turquiose shade and sparkled like glass in the sun's rays. Gentle waves broke dulux white on the pearly sand and I walked all the way along, admiring the odd purple wildflower at the top of the beach adding an occasional dot of contrasting colour. It was really peaceful with hardly a soul to be seen until I eventually reached the area patrolled by the life-guards. It was a mass of people, towels and umbrellas. I never understand why with such an expanse of sand so many crowd together. With most like me only interested in a liesurely dip in the shallows they could easily have spread out more. I got a fine bit of space yet still in sight of the patrols and had a fantastic swim. The water was warm and the gentle waves allowed the child in me to enjoy swimming and surfing through them. Before too long the power of the sun got too strong, and with a family starting to play cricket next to me despite the miles of available space I gathered my things and started to walk back towards the esplanade, but as I reached the finest of the dry sands it became to hot to walk on in bare feet and I had to get my sandals on double quick. Funnily enough I've never had that problem on Lossie beach. I carried on along to a rockier patch and had another dip, paddle and general plowter about in the little shallow rock pools until it was time to get the shuttle bus back to town and prepare for moving on.

Next stop down the coast for me would be Coral Bay. It is a fair distance down from Broome and involved changing in the middle of the night at a little closed roadhouse onto a shuttle bus which travels up the peninsula to the bay and Exmouth beyond. We'd been an hour or so late in leaving Broome beacause of a shortage of busses due to mechanical problems. (The coaches pretty much run non-stop up and down the coast from Darwin to Broome to Perth, which is a distance of over 5000km one way, so you can imagine the wear and tear that causes in a short period of time, and with Greyhound based in the East there is a feeling that the "chiefs" don't appreciate the difficulties on the ground). Anyway, we set off late and had hoped to make up time on the way south, however, sadly we lost another half hour at one of the stops en route: All unaccompanied minors travelling have to be signed on and off the bus by a guardian before the drivers will leave. At South Headland a girl of about 11 or 12 who'd been returning from a holiday at her auntie's was due to be picked up but no-one was there to meet her. Despite various emergency contact numbers having been given nobody answered the phone calls either. It was such a shame that a young child has to experience that lost feeling and that nobody was desperate to welcome her home. Eventually the police were contacted to come and meet her so that we could progress. I felt so sorry for her as she was obviously upset by the whole experience yet trying to put on a brave face. We finally set off again and reached our transfer point about 1 3/4 hours late. The poor passengers transferring from the north bound bus, or who came in on the departing shuttle had had to wait all that time in the middle of nowhere and dead of night for us as the two services are timetabled to connect at the same time. Anyway, we were soon on our way again and arrived safely in Coral Bay. The name of the place gives the clue to the surroundings: one dead-ended street, the backpackers, a caravan park, a hotel, a couple of shops, a couple of daytour operators, then just miles of coral fringed beach stretching out from the shallow sheltered bay. The bus to the highway only runs on certain days, and the one we took in was the last one for 4 days, but I knew instantly that it would be no hardship for me to spend that time here. Its my kind of place. Over the following days I had to endure: Swimming in the gorgeously blue sea (the tour operators bemoaning the water was cold at only 20-21 degrees!); Snorkelling from the beach admiring the abundant coral just yards from the shore and marvelling at the myriad of different fish and stingrays all around me; reading and sunning myself on the quiet beach; trailing miles along dunes and white sandy beaches; paddling in the little rock pools; trying to spot turtles approaching the stretch of beach they use every year to lay their eggs; marvelling at the shark nursery where daily at low tide some of the adult black-tipped reef sharks will take the juvenniles -like a kind of day care facility -teaching them to find food for themselves; taking a boat trip and snorkelling with manta rays and going on an escorted scuba dive. Life was indeed tough!! Lazing around happily around the beach, rocks and rockpools it kind of transported me back to all those years of beach walking around the coves at Kilchousland. I swear if I'd closed my eyes I would have heard the clatter of taxi doors as everyone arrived from town. Snorkeling with the manta rays was awesome. They are so huge (about 3 metres across)but so graceful - gliding around 'mouths' wide open scooping up and filltering out all the food they can muster. We followed 2 or 3 and just became engrossed with them totally shutting out anything else around you - until you got a maskful of flipper from the snorkeller next to you as you hadn't been paying attention to you surroundings. It was magical. The diving was another thing altogether. Having done a few resort type dives previously I hadn't expected to get nervous about it when the time came to go but I did. It felt strange with the mask and regulator on and I'd a bit of trouble equalising my ear pressure to start with, and then the seal on my mask couldn't have been tight enough so it filled right up with water causing me a moments panic. Managing to clear it myself though seemed to settle my nerves and I began to relax and realy enjoy the freedom that being underwater gives you. Just then though we were signalled that it was time to resurface -typical. I think you'd really need to do more than one dive on a trip, certainly as a novice, to really be able to enjoy it. There are two main types of coral: brightly coloured, generally fronded, soft coral and hard coral which generally has more earthy colour tones of greys, browns purples and yellows but has a bigger variety of shapes. Its that hard coral that the inner Ningaloo reef (which stretches along the peninsula on which Coral bay sits)mostly consists of. In some places its very dense and one of the operators explained to me that generally nature carries out a natural pruning and thinning process as storms and cylcones hit lifting the old and decaying coral out of the sea letting the younger areas develop. without a cyclone in the area for about 30 years now he reckons they're well overdue for anther one. He may well be right, but I was more than happy to enjoy the area as it was in fine weather! However after a few days and with so much more still to see in Oz, I left Coral Bay and headed for Denham on another peninsula further down the coast.

The curse of the transfers struck again though: first off the shuttle was an hour late in picking us up, then when we got to the Minilya roadhouse there was no sign of the south bus and no estimated time of arrival. We waited and waited and waited getting excited as every set of headlights drew closer only to be disappointed as another road train whizzed by. I tell you, never on my trip so far has hitching seemed so appealing. Finally, about 3 hours late our bus arrived, people and luggage got transferred, and we were off. Reaching Overlander we had to transfer to the next shuttle, and our driver Trevor was half asleep! It was a horrendous journey as we tried desperately to keep speaking to him to ensure he stayed awake, but he couldn't really hear us over the noise of the fan and radio. We got him to stop for a break and tried to speak to him about it but he maintained he was ok, was just always like that and knew what he was doing! He was a bit better after the break but never were we so thankful to get to our destination in one piece.

Denham is just a very small coastal town within the Shark Bay World Heritage area and in, as you can probably imagine, a wonderfully picturesque setting. I spent a lot of time at the discovery centre. The Shark bay area is one of only a few sites around the world which qualifies for world heritage status by meting all four of the key requirements and the centre tells the story. A mixture of photos from around the area, stories about some of the old ships wrecked along the coast, background information on the geology of the area, flora and fauna, and audiovisial displays with different people who live and or work(ed) in the area speaking about how they are connected to the area and the conservation and management of it. It was a wonderful little centre and each time you'd visit I'm sure you'd pick up another little interesting fact or snippet of information. Another great day was spent at Monkey Mia. One of the star attractions there are the dolphins which swim into the shallows of the bay and are fed by DEC staff(dept. of Environment & Conservation) and a few people picked from the onlookers. They assure us they closely monitor how much is given to each dolphin to prevent overfeeding and to ensure they don't become reliant on that foodsource. It was lovely to see the dolphins so close to shore but I watched from further back as I waited to go on a guided aboriginal bushwalk. It turned out to be a fantastic walk. The guide, called Capes, tok us from the coastal white sands to the arid red desert and talked about plants, animals and a bit of traditional culture. He emphasised the belief that the natural environment is all important and as people we have just a small part to play in it - we should show respect and introduce ourselves when entering a different area. We were shown shells which would serve as cups and pots. Animal tracks were pointed out to us: kangaroo, lizards, emu and echidna. He pointed out how the feet of the echidnas "face backwards" fooling many who've tried to track them! We smelled the leaves of Myrtles used traditionally as medicinal soothers (they have a minty menthol smell a bit like Vicks)ang with slightly antiseptic properties, Charlie's Tree with Vitamin C rich currants, trees whose sap can be mixed with the ground seeds of another to form a resin which can be used to fix broken tools or fill teeth! We ate the nuts from Sandalwood trees, and chewed the leaves of another tree which is meant to help generate saliva, but I hated it: it dried my mouth rather than anything. Think of trying to chew a fuzzyfelt or bit of paper covered in sand and you're pretty near the mark I reckon! We saw goannas and other lizards, and several birds which Capes mimicked the calls of and explained how the birds' different calls would alert people to the presence of different animals and so different hunting techniques would be used as appropriate. He spoke too about the tribal system, comparing it to our clans traditionally coming from different areas, and finally ended with drawing the symbols for home in the sand and the letters EUR which sum up the fundementals of working with the natural envioronment: Educate; Understand; Respect. It really was a fantastic walk. Back at the resort I sunbathed at the beach and admired the views over the bay and the fields of seagrass to the cliffs beyond. I spotted turtles swimming just off the jetty, but none of the dugongs which some of the others saw on a boat trip (About 10,000 thats 10% of the worlds population of Dugong live in Shark bay), and I perused the information office and displays. My final day in Denham was also my birthday and it was also a fantastic day and one that for only the second time in my life I was able to celebrate in shorts and t-shirt.(thanks everyone who sent messages it was much appreciated) The wind which had kept the temperature bearable over the last few days disappeared leaving it a scorching day. I packed myself a little picnic, borrowed a bike from the hostel, and set off with the intention of having a scenic tour around the area and my first stop being at the ocean park, which dependant on which literature I read was somewhere between 7-10km from town. A perfectly normal cycling distance. What follows however is an explanation and not an excuse!! The bike had no gears, was a bit rusty, and in need of a good oil and clean up. However, I peched on along up a series of gradual climbs for a while. Without my hat my head was soon getting toasted, but with it the beads of sweat gathered on the headband before trickling down my sunnies leaving me in need of a set of wipers! Realising I was only just over 5km from town and with potentially the same again before I reached the park I decided enough was enough and pulled into the side of the road for a rest and a drink before turning back. I'd only taken a couple of gulps before a 4x4 pulled up behind me. The people had seen me stopping as they passed, and concerned that I may have had a puncture or be in need of a lift somewhere, came back to check on me. Thanking them, I explained that I was merely in need of a drink and a change of direction. It's really lovely though when a stranger shows you an act of thoughfulness like that. We went our separate ways and I had an easier return ride to town, stopping to see a couple of local properties built from shell bricks. There is a nearby beach (shell beach!) which has particularly calcium rich shells. After periods of rain these shells fuse together and can be cut out as blocks and used in construction. In times gone by there would have been several properties built with them but nowadays only a few remain. Bike safely returned I put wine in the fridge to chill, made fruit crumble for me and my 3 travel companions to enjoy later, and spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach. I soaked up the sun, paddling and splashing my way from one end of town to the other, realising that what I'd originally taken to be seaweed was actually strands of seagrass plucked from the meadows in the bay and washed ashore in great clumps with the tide. It was noticable that while the sea at the hostel end of town was warm, it was positively hot at the far end. Whether that be due to currents or if there's a thermal stream nearby I know not, but it was lovely. I rounded off my day sitting on the shore eating fish and chips and watching the sun set over the bay into the sea. A real girlsy evening followed with us eating our pudding and custard as we sat in front of the telly watching the Australian equivalent of Strictly Come Dancing. All in all it was a great birthday and it didn't matter in the end that some cheeky B*gger had pinched our wine from the fridge! All that was left to do was to survive the early morning shuttle run out of town with sleepy Trevor. We set off pre-armed with a list of inane questions we could ask him to keep him awake, but all that served to do was take his eyes off the road altogether as he strained to hear us, so we remained quiet and alarmed. Then a kangaroo jumped out and thundered off the side of the van. Although I don't think there was anything even a fully alert Trevor could have done to avoid the roo, I do think the recovery could have been a bit more controlled. However, it did wake him up for a bit, and with us getting him to stop again for a break further on and again airing our concerns we finally reached Overlander, clammy handed and anxious, but safe, and delighted to see our bus waiting for us. Thankfully the rest of the bus journeys were fine and my next port of call was Kalbarri.

Kalbarri is a lovely little town with a range of options for visitors. Each morning the local pelicans are fed on the green. Pelicans are not particularly greedy birds as a rule and don't tend to overfeed so even though they know they are guaranteed a feed, not every bird turns up each day. Numbers can vary from zero (though thats rare) to 20, and one of a local band of volunteers feeds them while imparting a few nuggets of information to the watching crowd: pelicans are nomadic rather than migratory tending to wander from place to place across Austalia; they mature about 4years but can live up to 20 years; once hatched they live in colonies with the older birds keeping the young ones under control by giving them a slap with their bills to chastise them! and relatively intelligent creatures they have been known to come to and hang about the green until help arrives if they're injured. Other wildlife encounters in Kalbarri included a visit to a parrot breeding and conservation centre and a seahorse stable. The parrot place was fine, but really once you've seen a dozen or so different parrots the novelty wears off - especially when you bump into an eccentric divorcee fishing for a feather through the mesh of a cage but simultaneously wanting to tell you all about her travels with her spiritual mentor. I quickly made my excuses and left! The seahorse place was abit more interesting but mainly because I'd never thought about their farming before. The stable breeds horses for the pet industry to prevent wild ones being taken and thereby conserving natural stocks which had been depleting. There were horses from one day old hatchlings right up to older specimens and of a variety of breeds. There are 34 different breeds worldwide but this stable only concentrate on 16 warm water living types which are more suited to domestic aquariums. It was strangely fascinating viewing but I'll not be racing out to get some of my own when I get home. There were a few attractions out of town to which no public transport was available so Annika, Kat and I decided to hire a car and go sightseeing. The car was automatic and I was driving but had never driven an automatic before and it took a bit of getting used to. As I reversed out of the parking space I managed to bring us to a very abrupt halt as I put in the "clutch" to change into 1st and move off!! We were at least able to vouch that our seat belts worked! I've no idea how many times over the course of the next couple of days that I managed to bring us to a quick stop, but fortunately it was always while slow speed manouvering. I managed to cope ok on the open road! On our first day we headed down the coast stopping at various cliffs and lookout points on the way. There was some amazing rugged cliff faces and wonderful coastal scenery. The layers and layers of sandstone and limestone were clearly visible in varying shades of pinks and yellows. It very much reminded me of a lot of Eastern Scottish coastline. At one point we were entertained by a pod of 8 or 9 dolphins playing just offshore and it really reminded me of home and the cliffs along the coast between Buckie and Sandend. From there we carried on until we reached Hutt River Province. That is one bizarre little place if ever there was one. Its about 75km square and its own little independant principality. Established in 1970 by the now Prince Leonard and Princess Shirley Casley, it seems essentially to have originated from an objection to wheat growing quotas which were being introduced by the Australian government. A loophole in the constitution was somehow discovered that meant a substantial change in economy and land use gave grounds for a separate state to be established. Bizarrely, and somewhat eccentrically, this couple set about creating their own little principality. It now has 13000 citizens, its own church, money, passports, flag, poatal stamps, crests and coats of arms, army, honours system, and about 130 ambassadors and consulates around the globe. Quite how it came to be that the family were so disgruntled that the went as far as they did I have no comprehension. There is even a Hutt River national anthem. Apparently, though (though Princess Shirley never mentioned it to us) its existance as a state only survives for the lifetime of the prince and princess, and although Shirley showed us round and stamped our passports as we entered and left the province, there was no sign of Leonard who is, according to our hostel receptionist, ageing and not in good health. All in all it was a very strange place but worth the 30km drive on corrugated unsealed road to appreciate just what a little empire it is! The next day we set out early morning and headed inland to the river gorges in the national park. Our first top after we negotiated the long sandy road in and avoided the kangaroos by the roadside was at the "Z-bend". A short walk took us down to the lookout: fantastic layers of sandstone forming deep, sometimes sheer and sometimes sharply rugged, cliffs towering above the little river zig-zagging below. Bushes and trees clung to the cliff walls and surrounding countryside dotting the reds and pinks of the rocks like green pockmarks. Leaving there we headed back along the track to The Loop. Here the river takes a huge loop (!) through the gorges creating almost a peninsula of cliff overseeing it all. (You've got to hand it to the Ozzies there is never any doubt as to why a landmark is so named!!) Starting out on the 9km hiking trail we passed a formation known as Nature's Window - a square rocky frame providing a perfect vantage point to look through. The layers of rock are even more visible than at the Z-bends forming a horizontal pyjama stripe effect of pink yellow and black, and with such varied textures too. Some parts are polished smooth while others have a wonderful rippled appearance just like wet sands, while others again are even more rumpled looking like someone had scrunched up a bit of tinfoil then tried unsuccessfully to flatten it out again. Down on the valley floor the dark river is sporadically bordered by little beaches of golden sand. Looking down from atop there were plenty of animal tracks visible ehere they'd obviously been down to the river to drink but now they were well out of sight. It was early in the day still, and there was a fair degree of cloud cover but already it was hot walking. Temperatures are usually about 10 degrees hotter in the gorges than in the town and already in the 20's when we left Kalbarri it was certainly much warmer now. We trekked on admiring the landscape and enjoying the walk even if the terrain was quite rocky, rubbley and hard going at times. After an hour and a half we reached the first of the big swings in the river's course and the path made its way down to the waters edge through a series of red river gum trees. With the water so calm the reflections were great - making the water seem very dark as so little sky was reflected in the water thanks to the tall cliffs. We carried on a little bit further but with not enough time to complete the circuit and return the car on time we retraced our steps. Apart from the steep climb back up the cliff we decided the walk was just as good doing this as the outlook was somehow different going in the opposite direction. By the time we got back to nature's window it was almost busy with vistors and tour groups vying for the best vantage points so we were glad we'd left when we did. A final wander round town was all there was time for before we had to leave Kalbarri and I moved on for a short visit to Cervantes en route to Perth.

Just a few km out of Cervantes lie the strange desert rock formations of The Pinnacles. These are thousands of pillers of limestone of varying heights, anything up to 5 metres tall, and covering an area of over 17000 hectares. Some are quite smooth while others are textured and jagged with little holes and cut-aways through them. The layers of rock are clearly visible in most but as the sands continue to shift more are being revealed as others are reconcealed. The pillars were created by layers of calcium rich shells and sand being compacted over time. The deposits created large solidified dunes which were filled in over time by further sand blows. Vegetation grew on the surface and the slightly acidic water draining through the leaf mulches ate away at the limestone forming the pillars and towers. Its an incredible sight: they spread over such a vast distance but look so strange and alien in a way and especially eerie in the showery dusky light that we were viewing them under. Walking amongst them though it wasn't difficult to spot some resembling the shapes of turtles, hippopotamus, kangaroos, cathedrals and so on. It was a fascinating visit and a sight worth seeing, but I was also glad to get back to the hostel and out of the stange phenomena called rain which we experienced! With dryer weather and some time to spare in the morning before our bus to Perth we went for a walk along the beach and it was immediately apparent just why this area is known as the turquoise coast. With clear water, blue-ish sky and sandy beds the water was reflecting various shades. The sand was white, the shore covered in salty green grasses and flowers and a few islets of rock sat just off the coast. It was beautiful and so reminiscent of the west coast of Scotland. It made me think of Gigha. With a bit of breeze even the sea had the chop and white horses so familiar at home. Strolling along the deserted beach we became aware of lots of blue jelly fish dotting the sand with straggly tails and inflated ballon like bodies: Portugese Men-of-War. Not lethal but nonetheless capable of a poisonous sting we gave them a wider berth. Rounding the point the sand became smoother, the jellyfish fewer and bird numbers greater. We reached a jetty and left the beach for a little cafe. Sitting drinking cappocinos in the sun, admiring the view and listening to the piped easy-listening music we reflected on the tough lives we're currently living! However we soon had to leave for the city.

Arriving in Perth, it felt odd being back in a city - much bigger and more impersonal than the towns and villages I have become accustomed to, but no doubt with plenty for me to discover.

Into The Red

mogsie08-09 — Tue, 7 Oct 2008 17:05:00 GMT

I bade farewell to Airlie Beach at 2.15am and spent the next 31 hours travelling to the red centre of Australia. The bus is perfectly comfy and all the drivers I've had have been great but 30+ hours on a bus is nowhere near as much fun as 30+ hours on a train. However, there are advantages to being short and one is that its far easier to get stretched out to sleep in a bus-seat and so after changes of services at Townsville, Mount Isa and Tenant Creek I finally arrived in Alice Springs. "Alice" was hot and the sun beat down relentlessly but I like the town. Its not fancy by any manner of means but despite the heat I feel quite at home there. I've decided its because its a similar size to Elgin and has the mixture of flat lands, mountains and river that makes it so familiar. Ok, so the Laich o' Moray isn't quite a sandy desert stretching miles into the distance and the MacDonnell ranges providing the backdrop to AS don't equate to the Cairngorms, and the Todd River is much drier than the Lossie (well completely dry v fast flowing), but I'm sure you get the gist! And if not you can just blame it on the heat getting to me!!

Anyway, I'd arranged a trip to Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock)and Kata-Tjuta (aka The Olgas) so got picked up from my hostel early in the morning. Heading down the road the sands began to get redder and redder as we got closer, the sky remained deep blue and the grasses became even more sun bleached. We passed a few camels - the one-humped dromodaries rather than the bacterian ones of Mongolia - and saw lots of wedge-tailed eagles but only one or two kangaroos. We stopped en route to view Mount Conner. Its a huge flat topped granite rock not quite as high or as long as Uluru but very impressive none-the-less. It looks so imposing rising from the desert plains. In complete contrast to it, just across the road from the viewpoint, is a massive salt lake. It stretched off white and flat into the distance and could scarcely have been more different, and was really offset by the deep red sands surrounding it. Leaving there we carried on to Kata-Tjuta. They are a series of domes, over 30 in all, made up of a conglomorate of stones and looking like massive mud-pies plonked into the landscape. We had a brief walk up the gorge between two of the largest hills (Walpa and Olga) before heading back to the star attraction of Uluru itself. It was too hot and windy for the rock climb to be open so we all went on a series of guided walks around the base of the monolith and were given some of the traditional explanations for the different scars and markings on the rock. (I don't know why people are still allowed to do the hill-climb: the aboriginal people find it offensive as to them its a sacred site, to date over 40 people have died on the climb resultant from exhaustion or heat-stroke as there is no shelter from the intense heat once you start, and there is plenty to see as you cirumnavigate it). Uluru itself is massive - it rises over 1000feet from the desert floor and is about 10km in circumference. Although from a distance it looks smooth sided its actually full of little fissures, caves and cut-aways, and there are a few areas which in the wet would become waterfalls and riverlets but which mostly are dry. There is one small waterhole which is hidden from sight until you are right upon it which will dry up only very occasionally - mostly the water can be up to 12 feet deep. It lies at the foot of an area where 3/4 of the water falling on the rock will drain into and because of the nature of the sandstone will continue to leach water for several days after it stops raining. Its only really as you stand at the foot of Uluru that you appreciate its size and bulk. Looking up from the base it stretches way above you making you feel very small in comparison.

Leaving the base of the rock we headed to the sunset viewing area and sat drinking champagne (well, fizzy wine) and enjoying a BBQ as we watched the sun go down and the rock change colour slowly at first then in a quick series of shaded of red and ochre until the sun disappears below it and it turns deep purpley-grey. It is just an awesome sight, but its really looking back at the photos afterwards that you appreciate how many different shades it turns. All too soon the drivers called us all back to the bus and we had to make the long trek back to Alice Springs dodging cattle, camels and Kangaroos on the troad as we went. A long but enjoyable day.

From Alice I went to Katherine, a town which serves as the crossroads for the roads travelling North to South and West to East across the "top end". I may have felt it hot in Alice but Katherine was even more so. It was at least 39 degrees during the day and only a little cooler at night. I went in search of shade and walked along the riverside path to the Katherine hot-springs. The water was lovely and clear and a pefect temperature for lazing around in. The stream cut down through the sloping banks of paper-bark gum trees and there was a lovely fresh, almost pepperminty, aroma permeating. With only a handful of other people around it was great because although the pools were reasonable deep and you could swim a little, it was narrow, so if it was busy you wouldn't be able to move much without bumping into someone else. Duly refreshed from my dip I walked on further to a little area billed as a nature reserve. It was really just a picturesque area of park by the riverside and seeing a couple of other people in the water I was about to join them. Then I saw the sign: "Beware - saltwater crocodiles are known to frequent this area". Well, I reckoned the others could take their chances but I thought that I'd more chance of outrunning them to make my escape if I stayed on dry land so found a shady spot under some trees to have my picnic instead! It was beautiful with the greeny water, orangey-red sand, lush white trunked gum trees with crisp green foliage and azure blue skies. The trilogy of red, green and blue is a bit of a trademark colourscheme for central Australia, I think. As I sat admiring the view and munching on a lovely crisp, sweet, juicy apple there was a sudden "whoop" as a great big hawk of some kind swooped down from behind me and pinched my apple straight out of my hand. I was heck of a glad it was accurate as I'm sure it could have done my hand some damage if it had got it and not my lunch. I just hope it appreciated the apple as much I was doing! With the threat of crocs appearing from the river and birds pinching my picnic and the sun beating ever hotter I decided to head back towards town along the opposite side of the river to my morning's walk. I had not long set off when a young kangaroo sprang up from the undergrowth beside me and bounded off at a rate of knots. It was certainly a day for the wildlife! It was a hot walk back and the fallen leaves underfoot really cracked when you trod on them rather than the gentle crunch you get at home. I guess they are baked hard by the heat rather than gently dried. With the trees thinning out and little shade overhead I was happy to reach town, but first had to cross an old railway bridge to get there. It was made of metal and wood and clunked and rattled as I walked, with the wooden supporting beams underneath looking a bit too worn and rotten for my liking, doing nothing to dispel the notion that it was deteriorating rapidly. I didn't linger, eager to get to the shade, but it seemed to get further away as I crossed the bridge. Needless to say I traversed safely as no doubt will numerous others behind me and I'm sure its just an illusion that it gets longer as you cross!

Katherine was a nice enough wee town, but very much an outback stopping point. I didn't have an awful lot else to offer so I started to turn to the west and caught the greyhound to the town of Kununurra. It was a much twistier and more undulating road that took me across the Western Australian border than the endless straight tracks I've become used to, but the scenery largely remained the same tri-coloured scrub land. There are strict restrictions on the movement of fruit and vegetables across large parts of Australia, so at the border quarrantine officials came on board to check our hand luggage before inspecting the freight and luggage holds below us. I half expected to get another stamp in my passport it was so thorough, but before too long we were cleared to progress and enter Western Australia and reached Kununurra just a half hour later.

If it was hot in Katherine, it was positively roasting in Kununurra - temperatures not falling below 39 degrees here. I decided to have a little wander round town and just about melted. If you can imagine a snail leaving a sticky trail behind it marking out it's path that was me, except that the trail I was leaving was of the melting sunscreen running down the backs of my legs and of ice-cream melting and dripping of the stick before I could enjoy the benefit of it! Cooler climes definitely have there plus points: icecream that's icy, and the ability to buy a bar of chocolate which won't be liquified by the time you've finished opening the wrapper! Despite that, there was a nice vibe to the town and I reckoned I'd like it so I organised a couple of jaunts (involving air-conditioned transport!)

The first one was a trip out to the Lake Argyle dam and a river trip back to town for sunset. The dam was built as part of a huge hydro-electric and irrigation scheme involving Lake Argyle and Lake Kununurra. The hydro scheme provides all the water and power for Kununurra, Wyndham and 90% of the power requirements of the nearby massive Diamond mine. (The Argyle mine apparently produces over 75% of the world's diamonds but try as I might I didn't see any stray ones lying around or being handed out to tourists as souvenirs of the area) The water is used on the Ord River Irrigation scheme: a gravity fed irrigation system to provide viable farming land. Excess water is pumped out to sea as its apparently cheaper to run desalination plants in the south to draw water than to pump down supplies from the top-end. It just seems a bit incongruous to me that part of the country is in drought conditions yet here excess water is pumped out to sea. There were far more facts and figures about the scheme, all of which I've now forgotten, but I thought you would have been fascinated by it all dad. The sheme is acknowledged as the most efficient in the world given the size of the operation. Even the huge dam wall was constructed without using concrete: its entirely built from locally blasted rock. Anyway, it was there that we transferred from the bus to the boat and what was a fantastic 4 hour, 55km trip back to Kununurra. Powered by three 200hp outboard engines it was fast, but smooth, and incredibly manouverable and with a flat hull needed only about 1m of water below it so we could stop in lots of little creeks and channels to look at the local wildlife, waterlife, birds, trees and anything else that caught the attention of our skipper, Jeff. The river was wonderfully scenic with the steep red rock cliffs, numerous shades of green foliage and the obligatory azure blue sky. As we raced along the draft/breeze took the sting out of the heat, but it was still warm. If you stuck you head into the breeze it was a bit like standing in front of a hair-dryer and blowing it in your face! Along the way we spotted lots of freshwater crocodiles, fish, white bellied sea eagles, osprey, somewhat smelly fruit-bats, ducks, geese, pelicans, Kookaburras, cockatoos, jesus birds, doves, cormorants and many more. You name it and we saw it. We even managed a stop for afternoon tea at a spot named Echo Point where we were treated to lovely pumpkin scones and a gorgeously moist carrot cake. It was juicy and flavoursome with lovely big chunks of pineapple and no coconut or walnuts in sight. I'm sorry to say mum it was even nicer than yours - and that's going some. There were scones left over that we got to take away in doggy-bags but there was no cake left! (and, no, before you make any comment I didn't eat it all!) Before leaving it was demonstrated to us just why the point is so named. I've never heard such a clear echo as that which came back a couple of seconds after the shout. It was incredible - not muffled or anything. As we continued our trip we passed a couple of rock formations, one looking just like a soldiers head and the other just like the face of an elephant, before arriving back to town as the sun was going down. It cast a wonderfully orange and pink hue over the water which created lovely calm and attractive silhouettes on the water. A beautiful picture to sign off our tour with.

My other tour took me out to the El Questra Wilderness Park. Originally a huge 1million acre cattle station, it has now diversified a little and also provides tours and accommodation across some of its grounds. The first stop of the day for us was at Emma Gorge. Part of the Cockburn ranges which are some of the oldest known in the world, the walk was only 1.5km or so but it was a hot, stoney and rocky path uneven path following the river's course. The river is one of the few in the area which doesn't dry up and is used as the water supply for the resort it is so pure. We were there early morning but with limited cover it was a hot trek and I wouldn't have fancied it much later in the day. Once we finally reached the head of the gorge however we were treated to a small turquiose coloured pool at the foot of a rock drop in the river before arriving at a wonderfully sheltered wayer hole behind. The red cliffs behind overhung the pool forming a bit of a sheltering enclosure and a gentle waterfall fell from the clifftop. In the wet its a raging torrent but just now it was like a gentle shower spray. Some ferns and the like clung to the cliff faces and drips created a raindrop effect into rthe water below. Swimming there was great and so cooling after the trek in with the water just slightly warmed by a small thermal spring trickling into one corner. Returning to the resort we were treated to morning tea of iced water and/or coffee, lemon cake, pineapple and watermelon slices. So refreshing and just what was required. it also gave us time to look at photos showing the devastating effects Cyclone ingrid had had when she'd struck the area in March 2005. Leaving Emma Gorge we drove along the extremely rutted, dusty and corrugated Gibb River Road (at least I can say I've done a bit of it) to the Zebedee Springs. These are hot thermal springs at the foot of high sandstone cliffs and surrounded by palm trees. While it was a nice stop the springs were small and the underwater terrain was rocky making it difficult to negotiate, but I did manage to find a little area at the foot of a cascade which created a mini jaccuzzi for me to lounge about in for a while. I'm telling you this travelling lark is hard work!! We stayed there until it was time to go to the township for our lunch: Steak, barramundi, mashed tatties and salad. (I've not been able - or wanted- to weigh myself since I left but I'm sure I must have put some of the weight I lost back on it's certainly not been a diet of rice and peas all the way!) The township is really the staff quarters, shop, bar and camping ground for El Questro and is nestled in a bend on the Pentecost river Pentecost river. With some of the station cattle wandering around the relatively lush grounds it was a lovely lunch spot. In the afternoon we were taken for a boat trip through the Chamberlain gorge. The 'cruise' was very slow and in the heat too slow but it was made up for by the Champagne (well, fizzy wine) and fruit we were given as we went! Also, at the head of the gorge there were loads of fish to be seen: cat-fish (or silver cobbler as its increasingly called for reasons of sounding more appealling on a dinner menu), barramundi, and the stars of the show- Archer Fish. Given tiny pieces of bread to hold in our fingertips over the edge of the boat we were spat at by them as they tried to knock it out our grip! Their usual method of feeding is to spit shots of water at flies and insects on little branches overhanging the river to knock them ito the water and hence onto their feeding table. the bread trick mimicked those flies. the fish were incredibly accurate with their water pistol impersonations and can apparently shoot water up to 2metres. with the force the water spout hit you I could well believe it. As we headed back to shore an old stockman, Bud Tyson, regaled us with tales of his working life. Unfortunately I couldn't hear all of his anecdotes, and, well fed and watered and in the heat on a slow boat I may have momentarily dozed!! Something I certainly couldn't do as we returned via the corrugations of the Gibb River Road again to Kununurra.

On my final day in Kununurra I walked to the Mirima (or Hidden Valley) National Park at the edge of town. It is known as the mini Bungle bungles with similar striped rock patterns but on a smaller scale. The usual trilogy of red rock, green vegetaion and blue sky was as abundant as ever with wedge-tailed eagles circling overhead. The noise was what struck me though. It became gradually louder and louder as I walked: crickets, birds and various other "beasties" chirrupped, croaked, buzzed and twittered called. I wish I could have taped it as I can't explain what it was like but it was a real wall of sound that I'd never heard like that before. It was fantastic and so exotic sounding but also slightly eerie. I was disappointed inside the park proper to find much of the area destroyed by relativly recent fires and so the walks to the areas I wanted to visit were closed off and I never did get to see the Bungle domes. I returned to the hostel and had just finished lunch when there was a huge peal of thunder, lightening flashed and the rain started to pour. It continued all afternoon, the temperarure dropping to 28 by tea-time. They say animals can foretell changes in weather, so whether that was what the racket was about in the morning when I was at the park I don't know, but if it is a mark of the start of the wet season then I am maybe moving on at the right time. My bus left town about 8pm and it was still pouring. There had been more rain in these last few hours I was there than there had been since before March! Meanwhile, I was heading further west again - a, hopefully, dry Broome will be the next port of call.