While in Australia I was introduced to a band called Powderfinger that almost immediately became a permanent feature in my regular listening. Their album 'Odyssey Number Five' is quite remarkable and would almost certainly feature in my top ten albums of all time. Largely due to them being Australian and that meaning they live, more than likely anyway, a long, long way from everywhere, they had previously passed me by. Although I suspect the lead singer Bernard Fanning's (oh-so rock 'n' roll...) album Tea & Sympathy hadn't, but I didn't know it. If your liking is for highly infectious, well thought out, antipodean, pop rock (specialised, no?) I would highly recommend giving them a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pvFPsq8u_Q, This is the opening track from Odyssey Number Five and it only gets better from there, the highlights for me being 'My Happiness', 'The Metre' and 'My Kind of Scene', which manage to combine brilliant lyrics, atmosphere and music in that much looked-for but highly elusive combination. Bernard Fanning's album Tea & Sympathy is also worth listening to. It's a bit more chilled out and acoustic, but still great and features songs that I certainly felt I knew such as 'Wish You Well' (not a Bill Withers cover, thank god).
On a tad more serious note, I found myself perusing a list of the 100 Greatest Jazz Albums of all time the other day and for some reason stuck upon John Coltrane's 'Blue Train', not least because I, of course, knew the name, but didn't know his music at all. It seemed as good a place as any to start and soon enough found myself soaking it up as I was in the right frame of mind. It is, it would be fair to say, a wonderful recording. Not really being hugely musically minded the subtleties escape me, but it certainly appeals to me and is something I enjoy listening to because I have to concentrate on it and it is captivating enough to hold my attention despite being instrumental. A task that all-too-few bands/albums of it's ilk succeed at.
Taking yet another deviation on the musical highway, I have to confess I am occasionally partial to a little country music. Usually of a slightly outlaw/outsider/comedic style, but occasionally of a through and through country style. On this occasion though, I found myself, by a rather round about route (watching the preview track video of 'Shooter' Jennings' new album 'Family Man' and then deciding to research his family history), listening to Waylon Jennings' (his father), most famous release and also the first country album to go platinum' 'Wanted! The Outlaws', which is credited with inventing the genre of outlaw country and features a brilliant cover of Elvis' 'Suspicious Minds'. Not to mention the fact that the album is credited equally to Willie Nelson and features a two other, I assume, country greats; Tompall Glaser and Jessi Colter (boy do these country guys have some amazing names).
I'm always curious about albums that supposedly invent genres, particularly if they are genres that I enjoy. It seems to me to be a great place to start with a genre, or even to come back to if you've not listened to it before. Whether it be Black Sabbath's 'Black Sabbath' - credited with and pretty much universally acknowledged to have created the genre and aesthetic of metal or Monteverdi's 'L'Orfeo' - credited with being the originator and blue print for all subsequent operas, I will give it a listen and more often than not, love it.
One final note on a totally different note: I'm going to Paul Smith for training on 24th January, which should be a great day, productively spent with a brand that I love. Also, this last week was 'Pitti Uomo' the biggest menswear even of the year and one that I would have loved to have gone to. This desire was compounded by the fact that buyer at work was there living it up, while I was stuck back at the shop, dealing with deliveries. There are already some great photos floating around out there, but keep an eye out for The Sartorialist's coverage, Tommy Ton's details coverage and bits from ACL's Michael Williams, who I believe was there too and will no doubt provide his usual interesting angle on it.
I shall be very interested to see what the trends they take away from it are and what treats are coming up in the world of men's wear.
Joe
Thursday, 12 January 2012
Monday, 28 November 2011
'It's alright, I'm ok, I wanna know where you are.'
Just a little side note before I actually do some serious writing. Get hold of Graham Nash (of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young fame)'s 'Songs for Beginners'. It's a wonderful example of '70s pop which had brilliant lyrical and musical skills and managed to make brilliant, poignant pop songs. Particularly of note is 'Better Days', which I discovered, I confess through this video: Dylan as posted by my lovely friend on Facebook. The album also manages, in a way that we've rather lost, to convey the concerns of a generation that really did have something to worry about.
On a lighter note, I have much more travel writing to do. I'm hoping to wrap up Australia in this one, if not begin New Zealand too.
So, we were waiting on the floor of Cairns' Airport about to fly, via Sydney, to Adelaide. Having completed that particular flight, the second shortest of our trip at 4/5 hours long, with a brief stop-over at Syndey airport, we arrived in a shockingly cold (actually cold this time, there was rain!!) Adelaide and found our way to Annie's Place; our lovely little, very hippie-fied hostel at the far end of one of Adelaide's main streets. (That should give you a sense for how small Adelaide is, or if not, know that one can walk the length of Adelaide in 20-25 minutes, comfortably.) Having checked in there, discovering we were, comparatively, far from anywhere of interest, I needed to make myself feel a little more human, not to say anything of warm, so I hopped into the shower while the other three disappeared off to a market we had been told about. A short while later, feeling a whole world better, I went of to meet them and after some searching found them deep in a fantastic food market trying to avoid spending lots of money on chocolate, cheese and other such delicacies.
To just change time, place and people for a moment. I spent a year in France during my degree, specifically in Grenoble, wherein I met two Australians, who live in Adelaide... You see where I'm going with this...
So, having gotten ourselves settled in and adjusted to time difference, climate and lack of sleep, I got in touch with them and we organised to meet up for a drink and a catch up that evening. So, while meandering through Adelaide's very pleasant Rundle Mall; the pedestrianised shopping mall that runs most of the length of Adelaide, we made our way to the Austral pub and met up with said Australians for a much needed catch up. After quite a few drinks and a good long catch up about all that had gone on between the last time I had seen them (May 2009) we parted ways, the four of us heading straight to bed to crash out after a rather long day and them back to their respective homes with a firm agreement that we would meet again tomorrow evening and go to the Tap Inn (prizes if you guess what the theme of the pub is)
Having recovered somewhat we spent the following day exploring Adelaide, which can be done very easily by foot and in a fairly short space of time. Nonetheless, it has a very nice feel about it and I must say, despite the initial shock, I did enjoy being a little cooler and actually being able to wear jeans, jumpers and even a hat in comfort. Once we'd got the car sorted out for our coming road trip, spending the day doing not much more than wander around exploring, taking photos and a bit of shopping was a really pleasant change of pace to the trip. Anyway, the evening rolled around and we met up again with my friends and headed off to the Tap Inn, just a bit further out on the outskirts of Adelaide. The theme of the pub, if you haven't guessed by now, is golf. So it's got a driving range attached to it, which for a not terribly considerable sum of money one can pass the evening on, quite merrily (in all sense of the word), whiling the hours away. Eventually, it got to the point of the evening when, after large quantities of liquid have been consumed, when nature calls and so off Bobby disappeared (I only mention this because it's humorous, don't worry). Now, we had noticed that at the far end of the driving range was a window, with 'Best Seat in the House' written over it. Now, I, in my naivety, had thought it was part of the bar, a cubicle or some such thing, but no no, it was the men's toilent cubicle. So you can sit on the throne, while you watch people hit golf balls at you. Having all had a great time, we once again parted ways and with a new CD to entertain us on our coming trip, kindly put together by a friend of my friends, we headed back to the hostel once again to crash out.
We only had one morning left in Adelaide and had a very specific objective in mind; the legendary 'pie floater'. Now, Cam, one of my Aussie friends, despite living in Adelaide all his life, his parents doing likewise, had never eaten a pie floater, so we made it our mission to find one. Eventually Cam found out that we could get one out on an industrial estate in a cafe there, that people apparently come from miles around to get them from. So, we turned up, were duly directed into a parking space and went inside to queue up to get our 'pie floaters'. It's a this point that I should probably mention, a pie floater is an upside down pie, floating in pea soup, with ketchup squirted all over it, which I'll grant you doesn't actually sound that appetising, but actually is delicious.
Having devoured our pies, we went back to our hostel, rounded up our stuff and piled into our hired car, to begin our three day journey along the Great Ocean Road, to Melbourne, where our Oz Adventure would end.
The first thing of note that happened while on the road between Adelaide and wherever our first stop would be, aside from being dumbstruck by the beauty of the South Australian countryside, was in the middle of nowhere, while driving across some swampy land just in from the coast, the skies opened and for a while it became almost impossible to see while driving due to the intensity of the rain. Then, once we had passed through it, we came found ourselves looking at the most incredible rainbow and so, it being an apposite moment we stopped and took a moment just to marvel at where we were and what we were doing:
We drove on through the Australian countryside, continually being struck by the beauty, variation and sparsity of population all along the Great Ocean Road. Eventually we needed a break from the drive and so pulled over into a pelican colony by the roadside, where we took the opportunity to stretch our legs, see a bit of wildlife, including the now rather mundane kangaroos and a complete lack of pelicans and to just enjoy some time out of the car. By this time it was starting to get late so we piled back in and carried on after a little while, still with nowhere in mind to stop that evening. Eventually we made a decision to stop in a tiny little place called Robe, where we were informed by the guide book that there were various B&Bs, hostels and hotels. So, we checked a couple of B&Bs, found them rather too expensive and so decided to go and check out the Lakeside Manor YHA, Robe which it turned out was a beautiful old 19th century house, complete with library, that had been converted into a fairly upscale hostel. After a little haggling, we all decided to stay the night here and then press on in the morning. It turned out to be one of the most interesting places we stay, with massive halls, wide enough to drive a car down (we didn't try, don't worry), beautiful grounds including, unsurprisingly the lake and a beautiful drawing room, library and bathroom with enormous high ceilings and wonderful bay windows. Waking in the morning to a beautiful clear day, looking out over the lake was stunning and it's somewhere I would highly recommend to anyone doing the route we did. Not least because the owners are so friendly and accommodating.
I'm going to leave it there because I'm exhausted, and I've got quite a lot more to cover.
Bon nuit, tout le monde!
Joe
xxx
On a lighter note, I have much more travel writing to do. I'm hoping to wrap up Australia in this one, if not begin New Zealand too.
So, we were waiting on the floor of Cairns' Airport about to fly, via Sydney, to Adelaide. Having completed that particular flight, the second shortest of our trip at 4/5 hours long, with a brief stop-over at Syndey airport, we arrived in a shockingly cold (actually cold this time, there was rain!!) Adelaide and found our way to Annie's Place; our lovely little, very hippie-fied hostel at the far end of one of Adelaide's main streets. (That should give you a sense for how small Adelaide is, or if not, know that one can walk the length of Adelaide in 20-25 minutes, comfortably.) Having checked in there, discovering we were, comparatively, far from anywhere of interest, I needed to make myself feel a little more human, not to say anything of warm, so I hopped into the shower while the other three disappeared off to a market we had been told about. A short while later, feeling a whole world better, I went of to meet them and after some searching found them deep in a fantastic food market trying to avoid spending lots of money on chocolate, cheese and other such delicacies.
To just change time, place and people for a moment. I spent a year in France during my degree, specifically in Grenoble, wherein I met two Australians, who live in Adelaide... You see where I'm going with this...
So, having gotten ourselves settled in and adjusted to time difference, climate and lack of sleep, I got in touch with them and we organised to meet up for a drink and a catch up that evening. So, while meandering through Adelaide's very pleasant Rundle Mall; the pedestrianised shopping mall that runs most of the length of Adelaide, we made our way to the Austral pub and met up with said Australians for a much needed catch up. After quite a few drinks and a good long catch up about all that had gone on between the last time I had seen them (May 2009) we parted ways, the four of us heading straight to bed to crash out after a rather long day and them back to their respective homes with a firm agreement that we would meet again tomorrow evening and go to the Tap Inn (prizes if you guess what the theme of the pub is)
Having recovered somewhat we spent the following day exploring Adelaide, which can be done very easily by foot and in a fairly short space of time. Nonetheless, it has a very nice feel about it and I must say, despite the initial shock, I did enjoy being a little cooler and actually being able to wear jeans, jumpers and even a hat in comfort. Once we'd got the car sorted out for our coming road trip, spending the day doing not much more than wander around exploring, taking photos and a bit of shopping was a really pleasant change of pace to the trip. Anyway, the evening rolled around and we met up again with my friends and headed off to the Tap Inn, just a bit further out on the outskirts of Adelaide. The theme of the pub, if you haven't guessed by now, is golf. So it's got a driving range attached to it, which for a not terribly considerable sum of money one can pass the evening on, quite merrily (in all sense of the word), whiling the hours away. Eventually, it got to the point of the evening when, after large quantities of liquid have been consumed, when nature calls and so off Bobby disappeared (I only mention this because it's humorous, don't worry). Now, we had noticed that at the far end of the driving range was a window, with 'Best Seat in the House' written over it. Now, I, in my naivety, had thought it was part of the bar, a cubicle or some such thing, but no no, it was the men's toilent cubicle. So you can sit on the throne, while you watch people hit golf balls at you. Having all had a great time, we once again parted ways and with a new CD to entertain us on our coming trip, kindly put together by a friend of my friends, we headed back to the hostel once again to crash out.
We only had one morning left in Adelaide and had a very specific objective in mind; the legendary 'pie floater'. Now, Cam, one of my Aussie friends, despite living in Adelaide all his life, his parents doing likewise, had never eaten a pie floater, so we made it our mission to find one. Eventually Cam found out that we could get one out on an industrial estate in a cafe there, that people apparently come from miles around to get them from. So, we turned up, were duly directed into a parking space and went inside to queue up to get our 'pie floaters'. It's a this point that I should probably mention, a pie floater is an upside down pie, floating in pea soup, with ketchup squirted all over it, which I'll grant you doesn't actually sound that appetising, but actually is delicious.
Having devoured our pies, we went back to our hostel, rounded up our stuff and piled into our hired car, to begin our three day journey along the Great Ocean Road, to Melbourne, where our Oz Adventure would end.
The first thing of note that happened while on the road between Adelaide and wherever our first stop would be, aside from being dumbstruck by the beauty of the South Australian countryside, was in the middle of nowhere, while driving across some swampy land just in from the coast, the skies opened and for a while it became almost impossible to see while driving due to the intensity of the rain. Then, once we had passed through it, we came found ourselves looking at the most incredible rainbow and so, it being an apposite moment we stopped and took a moment just to marvel at where we were and what we were doing:
We drove on through the Australian countryside, continually being struck by the beauty, variation and sparsity of population all along the Great Ocean Road. Eventually we needed a break from the drive and so pulled over into a pelican colony by the roadside, where we took the opportunity to stretch our legs, see a bit of wildlife, including the now rather mundane kangaroos and a complete lack of pelicans and to just enjoy some time out of the car. By this time it was starting to get late so we piled back in and carried on after a little while, still with nowhere in mind to stop that evening. Eventually we made a decision to stop in a tiny little place called Robe, where we were informed by the guide book that there were various B&Bs, hostels and hotels. So, we checked a couple of B&Bs, found them rather too expensive and so decided to go and check out the Lakeside Manor YHA, Robe which it turned out was a beautiful old 19th century house, complete with library, that had been converted into a fairly upscale hostel. After a little haggling, we all decided to stay the night here and then press on in the morning. It turned out to be one of the most interesting places we stay, with massive halls, wide enough to drive a car down (we didn't try, don't worry), beautiful grounds including, unsurprisingly the lake and a beautiful drawing room, library and bathroom with enormous high ceilings and wonderful bay windows. Waking in the morning to a beautiful clear day, looking out over the lake was stunning and it's somewhere I would highly recommend to anyone doing the route we did. Not least because the owners are so friendly and accommodating.
I'm going to leave it there because I'm exhausted, and I've got quite a lot more to cover.
Bon nuit, tout le monde!
Joe
xxx
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
More travelling.
So, after Magnetic Island, we had a brief stay in a very battered but equally tranquil Mission Beach. It was just what we needed after the rather hectic few days we'd had and furthermore provided a much needed rest a. in preparation for the lunacy of Cairns and b. after the intense weeks of travelling we had undergone up the coast. A day relaxing, doing nothing more than playing ping pong and chilling out in the very secluded and peaceful hostel was perfect.
It was not to last, however, and we had much to look forward to. Cairns was our next stop and a much anticipated one at that. As promised, the weather was getting warmer the further up the coast. (All things are relative, from the comparatively chilly high 20s of Brisbane Cairns felt scorching!) We also had the pleasure of finding we would be driven from Mission Beach to Cairns by an Aussie friend of ours, so the five of us piled into the rather small car and we set off. The journey it must be said did not pass without incident; the now infamous 'Hat' Incident, which left us all a little shaken. On the other hand, the rest of the journey was very pleasant and a hugely enjoyable change from the uncomfortable jolting of the Oz Experience Bus. So, we arrived a couple of hours later in Cairns, where the group split for the first extended period of time since we had left. Despite the increase in temperature, however, it was raining in Cairns when we arrived, so we parted ways with very little ceremony, not to mention the fact we would be seeing each other again in a few days. Ollie and I checked into the somewhat (in)famous Gilligan's and indulged ourselves by using some of our hard earned Base nights. We soon found ourselves checked into a room with a Norwegian, a Canadian and two other Englishmen and proceeded to see what delights Cairns had to offer us. They seemed largely to revolve around consuming many different kinds of alcohol and taking advantage of the various different night spots i.e. the Wool Shed or the Blue Sky Brewery with its many, many different beers. That or a 'party bus', which we managed to both win tickets to and get onto despite it being apparently sold out. Funny what you can wangle in a town full of backpackers.
To aid our socialising, we met up with various people we had run into all along the coast, not the least of whom was an old school friend I ran into as we walked into Gilligan's on that first raining evening. What a very, very small world it is. Cairns is the inevitable meeting point, starting point and departing point for almost all travellers that come to the East Coast of Australia. It's position as the last serious town, with a burgeoning night life and back packer scene, not to mention geographical location, makes it ideal for these sorts of rendez-vous. One can hardly turn a corner without tripping over someone you met in a hostel in Surfer's Paradise many weeks ago. Owing to the transient nature of the relationships one forms, however, they are always quickly and solidly bound, so the delight in seeing a new/old friend is always palpable.
So, having indulged our inner party animal extensively, we decided we wanted to do something else. So, we rounded up a few other travellers who were interested, hired a car and set off in search of the Innisfail Waterfall Circuit, which, though you may not realise it, is famous for the Millaa Millaa. They feature in Peter Andre's 'Mysterious Girl' video. (Two further points of information 1. he must have been absolutely bloody freezing under there as the water in the pool and waterfall was, well... bloody freezing and 2. in the aboriginal language, I am reliably informed, repetition is used for emphasis, so Millaa Millaa means plenty of water... surprisingly)
The Millaa Millaa Waterfalls, complete with idiots.
Aside from the Millaa Millaa Waterfalls, there are many others on the very pleasant Waterfalls Circuit and come the end of the day we had definitely been soaked through, gotten cold, warmed up in the car and then with the day winding down, driven back up to Cairns following the edge of the rainforest that covers the surrounding area.
Back in Cairns we decided to venture further up the coast, meet our missing two travellers and then head on up to Cape Tribulation, the first point that Captain Cook came across when he discovered Australia for Britain. We booked ourselves onto what turned out to be, essentially, a coach trip, complete with rather patronising guide and itinerary and a group of other, less adventurous, travellers. Regardless, we made the journey up to Cape Tribulation, through the indubitably tropical rainforest right along the very edge of the coast. This is in fact one of the very few places in the world where rainforest meets reef and within the space of quite literally metres, one can go from snorkelling along a reef to tramping through the undergrowth of the rainforest. While not the most adventurous or exciting of trips, it was interesting to have done it and to spend the night in a log cabin, in the heart of the rainforest before heading back to Cairns the following day.
Once back in Cairns, we once more hopped onto the Party Bus and had another night filled with ridiculous drinking games, excessive drinking and plenty more ridiculous antics, including a strip tease from one of our number, for the benefit of all the revellers at the Wool Shed, in failed pursuit of the much-coveted 'Mr. Backpacker' award. Having recovered the following day, we decided to book ourselves onto a trip out to Michaelmas Cay, which on the surface appears to be nothing more than a tiny sandy island used largely as a bird colony in the middle of the Pacific Ocean (alright, about 30km off the coast of Australia, if I'm honest), but bellow the surface hides some of the best snorkelling in the world, with coral of every possible colour imaginable and fishes in the same rage to boot. Not to mention the odd turtle, shark (the harmless kind) or stingray (again, harmless). Having had a thoroughly enjoyable and utterly relaxing journey out to Michaelmas Cay in the glorious sunshine and absolute tranquility of the Ocean, we arrived at Michaelmas Cay. Our boat came equipped with its own semi-submersible vehicle complete with submerged glass bottom, from which we were able to see even more of the beautiful aquamarine seas and the hugely varied life it held.
It was not to last, however, and we had much to look forward to. Cairns was our next stop and a much anticipated one at that. As promised, the weather was getting warmer the further up the coast. (All things are relative, from the comparatively chilly high 20s of Brisbane Cairns felt scorching!) We also had the pleasure of finding we would be driven from Mission Beach to Cairns by an Aussie friend of ours, so the five of us piled into the rather small car and we set off. The journey it must be said did not pass without incident; the now infamous 'Hat' Incident, which left us all a little shaken. On the other hand, the rest of the journey was very pleasant and a hugely enjoyable change from the uncomfortable jolting of the Oz Experience Bus. So, we arrived a couple of hours later in Cairns, where the group split for the first extended period of time since we had left. Despite the increase in temperature, however, it was raining in Cairns when we arrived, so we parted ways with very little ceremony, not to mention the fact we would be seeing each other again in a few days. Ollie and I checked into the somewhat (in)famous Gilligan's and indulged ourselves by using some of our hard earned Base nights. We soon found ourselves checked into a room with a Norwegian, a Canadian and two other Englishmen and proceeded to see what delights Cairns had to offer us. They seemed largely to revolve around consuming many different kinds of alcohol and taking advantage of the various different night spots i.e. the Wool Shed or the Blue Sky Brewery with its many, many different beers. That or a 'party bus', which we managed to both win tickets to and get onto despite it being apparently sold out. Funny what you can wangle in a town full of backpackers.
To aid our socialising, we met up with various people we had run into all along the coast, not the least of whom was an old school friend I ran into as we walked into Gilligan's on that first raining evening. What a very, very small world it is. Cairns is the inevitable meeting point, starting point and departing point for almost all travellers that come to the East Coast of Australia. It's position as the last serious town, with a burgeoning night life and back packer scene, not to mention geographical location, makes it ideal for these sorts of rendez-vous. One can hardly turn a corner without tripping over someone you met in a hostel in Surfer's Paradise many weeks ago. Owing to the transient nature of the relationships one forms, however, they are always quickly and solidly bound, so the delight in seeing a new/old friend is always palpable.
So, having indulged our inner party animal extensively, we decided we wanted to do something else. So, we rounded up a few other travellers who were interested, hired a car and set off in search of the Innisfail Waterfall Circuit, which, though you may not realise it, is famous for the Millaa Millaa. They feature in Peter Andre's 'Mysterious Girl' video. (Two further points of information 1. he must have been absolutely bloody freezing under there as the water in the pool and waterfall was, well... bloody freezing and 2. in the aboriginal language, I am reliably informed, repetition is used for emphasis, so Millaa Millaa means plenty of water... surprisingly)
The Millaa Millaa Waterfalls, complete with idiots.
Aside from the Millaa Millaa Waterfalls, there are many others on the very pleasant Waterfalls Circuit and come the end of the day we had definitely been soaked through, gotten cold, warmed up in the car and then with the day winding down, driven back up to Cairns following the edge of the rainforest that covers the surrounding area.
Back in Cairns we decided to venture further up the coast, meet our missing two travellers and then head on up to Cape Tribulation, the first point that Captain Cook came across when he discovered Australia for Britain. We booked ourselves onto what turned out to be, essentially, a coach trip, complete with rather patronising guide and itinerary and a group of other, less adventurous, travellers. Regardless, we made the journey up to Cape Tribulation, through the indubitably tropical rainforest right along the very edge of the coast. This is in fact one of the very few places in the world where rainforest meets reef and within the space of quite literally metres, one can go from snorkelling along a reef to tramping through the undergrowth of the rainforest. While not the most adventurous or exciting of trips, it was interesting to have done it and to spend the night in a log cabin, in the heart of the rainforest before heading back to Cairns the following day.
Once back in Cairns, we once more hopped onto the Party Bus and had another night filled with ridiculous drinking games, excessive drinking and plenty more ridiculous antics, including a strip tease from one of our number, for the benefit of all the revellers at the Wool Shed, in failed pursuit of the much-coveted 'Mr. Backpacker' award. Having recovered the following day, we decided to book ourselves onto a trip out to Michaelmas Cay, which on the surface appears to be nothing more than a tiny sandy island used largely as a bird colony in the middle of the Pacific Ocean (alright, about 30km off the coast of Australia, if I'm honest), but bellow the surface hides some of the best snorkelling in the world, with coral of every possible colour imaginable and fishes in the same rage to boot. Not to mention the odd turtle, shark (the harmless kind) or stingray (again, harmless). Having had a thoroughly enjoyable and utterly relaxing journey out to Michaelmas Cay in the glorious sunshine and absolute tranquility of the Ocean, we arrived at Michaelmas Cay. Our boat came equipped with its own semi-submersible vehicle complete with submerged glass bottom, from which we were able to see even more of the beautiful aquamarine seas and the hugely varied life it held.
Michaelmas Cay in its entirety.
Having spent the entire day larking about on the boat, island or in the water we finally departed Michaelmas Cay, with a sense of really having seen and done something special. This insignificant spec in the middle of blue nowhere really had something special about it, even if it was a little overcrowded and as with much of the Antipodean part of the world makes one wonder what it must have been like to discover it.
That was pretty much the end of our Cairns adventure and so we bid farewell to our friends, new and old-ish and headed out to the airport, where we spent quite a few hours on the floor before boarding out flight for Adelaide, the Great Ocean Road and Melbourne. As well as everything along the way!
Much, much more to tell.
Joe
xxx
Wednesday, 28 September 2011
I told you I would get round to it eventually... Magnetic Island.
So, when last I wrote, we were just wrapping up the Whitsunday Islands and heading back to Airlie Beach. We spent a few more days here catching up with ourselves and certainly for me, acclimatising to being back on dry land (I seem to take rather longer than usual to adjust to the lack of movement; a most peculiar sensation). After a few days we headed on up to Magnetic Island (Cook apparently believed the island was interfering with his navigational instruments, an effect which has yet to be replicated), where we were to spend three days exploring what this small island off the coast of Townsville had to offer. While on the ferry journey over to the island, Ollie remarked that there was some sort of settlement that looked like 'some swish island resort'. After hopping on the bus and being told where to get off, we felt more than a little smug to find that said 'island resort' was in fact our hostel. While perhaps not as glamorous as it looked from a distance, it was still idyllic enough for us to thoroughly enjoy our time there. Kitted out with a swimming pool in which preliminary diving lessons were given, several hammocks and a whole host of different types of accommodation it was like something from some island getaway brochure. It looked a little like this:
So we arrived and found ourselves, right on the water’s edge with a lovely quiet beach all the hostel's own and so began to settle in; spending the rest of the day dozing in hammocks, on the beach or just in our assigned hut chilling out.
We decided the next day to go snorkelling and so, kitted out with stinger suits, snorkels, masks and flippers headed out to where we had been informed there was a wreck that we could snorkel around in one of the nearby bays. Arriving there, not only did we indeed spot the wreck, but there were also some wallabies that were obviously used to being fed, so much so, in fact, that there was a pile of plant leaves and grasses in the middle of the little area they were all gathered around. Now, that had either been conveniently collected by them or, left there by the previous snorkelers and as such it seemed rude to break from convention, so Jon and Joe kitted out in stinger suits, flippers, snorkels, masks and ukulele set about feeding them. I’m not sure who was more confused; the wallabies or the tourist group that turned up half way through the feeding to admire the view and be told ‘there’s the wreck’. Either way, it made for some amazing photos:
The next day we headed up to the Northern end of the island and found ourselves winding up steeply (more on this later) over the ridge of hills that run the length of the island before dropping back down the other side towards the main beach of the island; Horseshoe Bay. Upon arriving, it was eminently clear why this was the main beach of the island, but that naturally meant it was a tad overcrowded, comparatively anyway. So, we backtracked up the road until we found ourselves at the col and took the turning off towards ‘Radical Bay’, a name that was just too appealing to pass up. After winding steeply down on a bumpy dirt track and then along the track under bush and jungle, we came out onto the completely isolated Bay. It was perfect, strewn with palm fronds, massive palm trees and a wide expanse of white sand, with rocks and rock pools at each end that could be explored at our leisure. To say that the rest of the day, certainly for my part, was spent doing little more than reading, sunbathing and doing diddly squat, would be no word of a lie. Bobby and a couple of the girls felt the need to climb the rocks and soon found themselves in that classic climbing paradox, the getting down is always harder than the getting up. Nonetheless, minus a couple of bruises and scrapes they were all fine. Ollie wandered off in the opposite direction and did much the same, requiring some solitude. While the rest of us were content to do nothing more than paddle in the water, explore the rock pools and eat the lunch we had brought with us.
By late afternoon, we decided to head back to our hostel, but, realising we had the jeeps until the morning, decided to go to West Point (not, I should add, the US Military Academy) for sunset. Having stopped back at the hostel, grabbed a jumper and changed out of our wet clothes, we piled back into the jeeps and headed out, with the dusk encroaching ever further, down yet another dirt track, this one entirely flat. After what seemed like a long and bumpy, but fun, drive, we found ourselves at West Point, with nothing for company but stone curlews, one retired Australian and Bobby’s guitar, we settled in for sunset. I have to say, this was a real highlight of the whole trip for me. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. Not a breathtaking beauty like the Grand Canyon, or an imposing, omnipresent beauty like New Zealand’s landscape, but a quiet, understated and supremely peaceful beauty that is a rare thing in this day and age. We could have been at the end of the world (we were, almost) if we weren’t facing west towards the mainland. Regardless the sunset was something special, even though we were told ‘you ought to come back in the summer, the sunsets are much better then!’ by the aforementioned retired Australian, after he emerged from his evening swim. Eventually, after the sun had gone down, we had grown cold and bored we decided to head back but with this etched in our memories:
On our last day, we decided to spend it in a rather less active fashion. I elected to spend most of the day in a hammock reading or on the beach doing much the same. While Jon did likewise, until his restless nature took over and he had to go off up to a view point to expend some energy. Bobby and Ollie, however, decided to hire bikes from the hostel, which, it should be stated in advance, were in a pretty bad way and cycle large parts of the islands road network. Not least, the road we had driven previously; the steep one. No prizes for guessing what happened. Ollie fell off, mangled his hands, knees, elbow and shoulder and had to be cleaned up by yours truly. Once he was patched up, we took stock of ourselves. Bobby and I had managed to injure ourselves playing bar Olympics (wheelbarrow = eyebrow death for Bobby and blind folded stool pushing = knee death for me. We both still have the scars to prove it), Ollie had mangled himself spectacularly, which just left Jon. Rather than any physical damage, Jon and I damaged our pride somewhat in order to win the dance competition (it had a prize of $250 worth of hostel vouchers!!), I won’t say how, but thankfully it paid off!
On a less dubious note, Magnetic Island is definitely one of the highlights of the trip for me and is undoubtedly somewhere I would urge everyone and anyone who visits the East Coast of Australia to visit. We left Magnetic Island with many fond memories of a visit long extended and with various other memories, some painful, most hilarious. It won’t be the last time, not for me anyway.
So we arrived and found ourselves, right on the water’s edge with a lovely quiet beach all the hostel's own and so began to settle in; spending the rest of the day dozing in hammocks, on the beach or just in our assigned hut chilling out.
We decided the next day to go snorkelling and so, kitted out with stinger suits, snorkels, masks and flippers headed out to where we had been informed there was a wreck that we could snorkel around in one of the nearby bays. Arriving there, not only did we indeed spot the wreck, but there were also some wallabies that were obviously used to being fed, so much so, in fact, that there was a pile of plant leaves and grasses in the middle of the little area they were all gathered around. Now, that had either been conveniently collected by them or, left there by the previous snorkelers and as such it seemed rude to break from convention, so Jon and Joe kitted out in stinger suits, flippers, snorkels, masks and ukulele set about feeding them. I’m not sure who was more confused; the wallabies or the tourist group that turned up half way through the feeding to admire the view and be told ‘there’s the wreck’. Either way, it made for some amazing photos:
The next day we headed up to the Northern end of the island and found ourselves winding up steeply (more on this later) over the ridge of hills that run the length of the island before dropping back down the other side towards the main beach of the island; Horseshoe Bay. Upon arriving, it was eminently clear why this was the main beach of the island, but that naturally meant it was a tad overcrowded, comparatively anyway. So, we backtracked up the road until we found ourselves at the col and took the turning off towards ‘Radical Bay’, a name that was just too appealing to pass up. After winding steeply down on a bumpy dirt track and then along the track under bush and jungle, we came out onto the completely isolated Bay. It was perfect, strewn with palm fronds, massive palm trees and a wide expanse of white sand, with rocks and rock pools at each end that could be explored at our leisure. To say that the rest of the day, certainly for my part, was spent doing little more than reading, sunbathing and doing diddly squat, would be no word of a lie. Bobby and a couple of the girls felt the need to climb the rocks and soon found themselves in that classic climbing paradox, the getting down is always harder than the getting up. Nonetheless, minus a couple of bruises and scrapes they were all fine. Ollie wandered off in the opposite direction and did much the same, requiring some solitude. While the rest of us were content to do nothing more than paddle in the water, explore the rock pools and eat the lunch we had brought with us.
By late afternoon, we decided to head back to our hostel, but, realising we had the jeeps until the morning, decided to go to West Point (not, I should add, the US Military Academy) for sunset. Having stopped back at the hostel, grabbed a jumper and changed out of our wet clothes, we piled back into the jeeps and headed out, with the dusk encroaching ever further, down yet another dirt track, this one entirely flat. After what seemed like a long and bumpy, but fun, drive, we found ourselves at West Point, with nothing for company but stone curlews, one retired Australian and Bobby’s guitar, we settled in for sunset. I have to say, this was a real highlight of the whole trip for me. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. Not a breathtaking beauty like the Grand Canyon, or an imposing, omnipresent beauty like New Zealand’s landscape, but a quiet, understated and supremely peaceful beauty that is a rare thing in this day and age. We could have been at the end of the world (we were, almost) if we weren’t facing west towards the mainland. Regardless the sunset was something special, even though we were told ‘you ought to come back in the summer, the sunsets are much better then!’ by the aforementioned retired Australian, after he emerged from his evening swim. Eventually, after the sun had gone down, we had grown cold and bored we decided to head back but with this etched in our memories:
On our last day, we decided to spend it in a rather less active fashion. I elected to spend most of the day in a hammock reading or on the beach doing much the same. While Jon did likewise, until his restless nature took over and he had to go off up to a view point to expend some energy. Bobby and Ollie, however, decided to hire bikes from the hostel, which, it should be stated in advance, were in a pretty bad way and cycle large parts of the islands road network. Not least, the road we had driven previously; the steep one. No prizes for guessing what happened. Ollie fell off, mangled his hands, knees, elbow and shoulder and had to be cleaned up by yours truly. Once he was patched up, we took stock of ourselves. Bobby and I had managed to injure ourselves playing bar Olympics (wheelbarrow = eyebrow death for Bobby and blind folded stool pushing = knee death for me. We both still have the scars to prove it), Ollie had mangled himself spectacularly, which just left Jon. Rather than any physical damage, Jon and I damaged our pride somewhat in order to win the dance competition (it had a prize of $250 worth of hostel vouchers!!), I won’t say how, but thankfully it paid off!
On a less dubious note, Magnetic Island is definitely one of the highlights of the trip for me and is undoubtedly somewhere I would urge everyone and anyone who visits the East Coast of Australia to visit. We left Magnetic Island with many fond memories of a visit long extended and with various other memories, some painful, most hilarious. It won’t be the last time, not for me anyway.
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Something different.
I will come back to the rest of our travels, I promise. Right now, however, I'm feeling something a little more along the lines of my usual stuff. First, I have various issues musical to deal with:
The new Red Hot Chili Peppers album 'I'm With You', which, I must confess, I have been listening to pretty much ever since I got hold of it just over a week ago. While nothing ground-breaking or particularly astounding, if you are a fan of the Chilis and found yourself desperately hoping for better from the sprawling and rather misguided double album 'Stadium Arcadium', this is the album for you. It features the ever present wondrous bass noodlings and Flea and the improved vocal performance from Kiedis 'dirty laundry, what a quandry' is a lyric that sticks out. So, the single 'The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie' has a fantastic bassline and a great, simple video shot, in what appears to be a rooftop gig the Chilis did on Venice Beach, much to my chagrin, just a week or two after I was there, in the evening sun with the admiring and rapidly gathering crowds forming over the length of the video. It is also great to see, as ever, the Chilis enjoying doing what they do; entertaining. Even new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer seems content and at ease. So, as state, it's nothing new but it's vintage Chilis enjoying themselves and coming up trumps in my books.
Second, the new Radiohead album, which has been out for some time, but I missed due to the adventures I've had over the last six months, but have subsequently listened to several times via their performance of the album on 'From the Basement' and it does indeed seem to be a wonderful return to their older slightly wackier ways. I haven't as yet had a chance to listen to the album repeatedly as all Radiohead albums require. One gets different things out of each different listen and as for the naysayers who dismiss Radiohead as depressing, pretentious nonsense, I can only express my condolences for what you're missing out on. I'll give you a more in depth assessment once I've listened to it five or six times, at least. Oh and on a side note, re-listening to OK Computer, for the umpteenth time, I'm continually struck by how outstanding it is and how, yet again, one derives different things from with each repeat listen.
On the down side, just briefly, the new Foo Fighters album, as far as I'm concerned is a major blot on a, so far, untarnished record. It just seems to lack the fun, soul and enjoyable air their previous albums have had in favour of a rather boring production and a lack of stand-out tracks. Perhaps that's just me though.
Books-wise, I have just finish a great collection of Paul Theroux's journalistic travel pieces called 'Sunrise With Seamonsters', which follows chronologically the pieces he published over a period of about 20 years. The topics range from the various epic railway journeys he undertook on the Subcontinent to the happy, if arduous hours, he spent rowing around the coast of Cape Cod in his lovely Victorian, hand-built skiff, to his memories of happy family reunions and just about everything in between. It's a lovely collection with something for everyone I feel and definitely a good introduction to this author for me. I have just begun reading Eric Newby's 'A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush', which evokes strong sentiments for me, imagining a place I have lived and yet, sadly, have no memories of, not to mention the extra-ordinary undertaking that is the main theme of the book, begun with the simple telegram 'CAN YOU TRAVEL NURISTAN JUNE?' which leads to a fantastical adventure in one of wildest corners of the earth. Having only just picked it up I can't report fully, but I'm confident it will be a rip-roaring read.
I have had some adventures over the last year; a trip to Paris, a trip to Broadstairs, many trips to London, one six month adventure around the world and all that it brought, but perhaps the most unexpected came to pass just over a week ago. I was at a dinner party with some family friends one evening and it would seem, in my absence it should be stated, I was volunteered for a sailing trip from Corfu's Gouvia port to Sicily's Catania over a week. With less than 24 hour's notice, I packed my bag and leapt onto the flight to Corfu to begin a short and rather more comfortable adventure, but nonetheless, at times challenging one.
I am no expert mariner, being only vaguely familiar with terms such as gybing, tacking, beating, loughing and all the other nautical jargon that is both a charming and highly confusing part of any such endeavour, but regardless found myself thoroughly enjoying the time spent on board and on shore at the various ports we stopped at. Not only did I enjoy the chance to do something totally different at such short notice, but I also thoroughly enjoyed seeing a part of the world I had not visited before and in a manner I have rarely experienced. A highlight was definitely seeing Mount Etna from the sea, looming over the South East coast of Sicily. One really appreciated the ease with which the Sicilians seem to live their lives, despite having this 3000m monster looming over them, ready to wipe them out, as it has done at various points in their long and illustrious history.
Anyway, as a result of this weeks exertions I am rather tired and so am going to head to bed very shortly.
As ever, I wish you happy travels, wherever and however you may go.
Joe
The new Red Hot Chili Peppers album 'I'm With You', which, I must confess, I have been listening to pretty much ever since I got hold of it just over a week ago. While nothing ground-breaking or particularly astounding, if you are a fan of the Chilis and found yourself desperately hoping for better from the sprawling and rather misguided double album 'Stadium Arcadium', this is the album for you. It features the ever present wondrous bass noodlings and Flea and the improved vocal performance from Kiedis 'dirty laundry, what a quandry' is a lyric that sticks out. So, the single 'The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie' has a fantastic bassline and a great, simple video shot, in what appears to be a rooftop gig the Chilis did on Venice Beach, much to my chagrin, just a week or two after I was there, in the evening sun with the admiring and rapidly gathering crowds forming over the length of the video. It is also great to see, as ever, the Chilis enjoying doing what they do; entertaining. Even new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer seems content and at ease. So, as state, it's nothing new but it's vintage Chilis enjoying themselves and coming up trumps in my books.
Second, the new Radiohead album, which has been out for some time, but I missed due to the adventures I've had over the last six months, but have subsequently listened to several times via their performance of the album on 'From the Basement' and it does indeed seem to be a wonderful return to their older slightly wackier ways. I haven't as yet had a chance to listen to the album repeatedly as all Radiohead albums require. One gets different things out of each different listen and as for the naysayers who dismiss Radiohead as depressing, pretentious nonsense, I can only express my condolences for what you're missing out on. I'll give you a more in depth assessment once I've listened to it five or six times, at least. Oh and on a side note, re-listening to OK Computer, for the umpteenth time, I'm continually struck by how outstanding it is and how, yet again, one derives different things from with each repeat listen.
On the down side, just briefly, the new Foo Fighters album, as far as I'm concerned is a major blot on a, so far, untarnished record. It just seems to lack the fun, soul and enjoyable air their previous albums have had in favour of a rather boring production and a lack of stand-out tracks. Perhaps that's just me though.
Books-wise, I have just finish a great collection of Paul Theroux's journalistic travel pieces called 'Sunrise With Seamonsters', which follows chronologically the pieces he published over a period of about 20 years. The topics range from the various epic railway journeys he undertook on the Subcontinent to the happy, if arduous hours, he spent rowing around the coast of Cape Cod in his lovely Victorian, hand-built skiff, to his memories of happy family reunions and just about everything in between. It's a lovely collection with something for everyone I feel and definitely a good introduction to this author for me. I have just begun reading Eric Newby's 'A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush', which evokes strong sentiments for me, imagining a place I have lived and yet, sadly, have no memories of, not to mention the extra-ordinary undertaking that is the main theme of the book, begun with the simple telegram 'CAN YOU TRAVEL NURISTAN JUNE?' which leads to a fantastical adventure in one of wildest corners of the earth. Having only just picked it up I can't report fully, but I'm confident it will be a rip-roaring read.
I have had some adventures over the last year; a trip to Paris, a trip to Broadstairs, many trips to London, one six month adventure around the world and all that it brought, but perhaps the most unexpected came to pass just over a week ago. I was at a dinner party with some family friends one evening and it would seem, in my absence it should be stated, I was volunteered for a sailing trip from Corfu's Gouvia port to Sicily's Catania over a week. With less than 24 hour's notice, I packed my bag and leapt onto the flight to Corfu to begin a short and rather more comfortable adventure, but nonetheless, at times challenging one.
I am no expert mariner, being only vaguely familiar with terms such as gybing, tacking, beating, loughing and all the other nautical jargon that is both a charming and highly confusing part of any such endeavour, but regardless found myself thoroughly enjoying the time spent on board and on shore at the various ports we stopped at. Not only did I enjoy the chance to do something totally different at such short notice, but I also thoroughly enjoyed seeing a part of the world I had not visited before and in a manner I have rarely experienced. A highlight was definitely seeing Mount Etna from the sea, looming over the South East coast of Sicily. One really appreciated the ease with which the Sicilians seem to live their lives, despite having this 3000m monster looming over them, ready to wipe them out, as it has done at various points in their long and illustrious history.
Anyway, as a result of this weeks exertions I am rather tired and so am going to head to bed very shortly.
As ever, I wish you happy travels, wherever and however you may go.
Joe
Thursday, 7 July 2011
A much needed update. Part Two.
So we got back to the main land, spent a night in the hostel with our jeep crews enjoying one lasted revel and then headed further north the next morning. Our destination was Agnes Water and the Town of 1770. No one seemed to be able to explain why they had chosen to name the town 1770 rather than further up the coast where Captain Cook first landed, in 1768. Peculiar types these Aussies. Still, we headed north on the Oz Experience and were soon in Agnes Water and all excited for some scooterooing and surfing; we had been reliably informed that Agnes was the only and the cheapest place to do these things, respectively.
We checked into our rather strange hostel, whose receptionist assured us that the lack of lock on the room door wouldn't be an issue. How right she was. I can safely say Agnes Water is one of the sleepiest and Most unexceptional places I've ever been. It did, however, I should say, provide us with three activities that we all enjoyed enormously. First and so far the t gaping hole in our Australian adventure; surfing. We booked ourselves onto a beginners course and set off down to the beach ready to ride some waves and show off our surfing prowess. Needless to we spent an awful lot of time coughing salt water and sliding off the incredibly slippery surfboards. To those professionals out there, I take my hat off to you in recognition of your oh-so-cool and no doubt hard won prowess and skill. So having discovered surfing wasn't quite as easy as we might have supposed, we set off in search of something a little more rewarding, namely, the aforementioned scooterooi g. The basic principled being that you are kitted out in leather jacket, helmet and biker tattoos (fake) and then put on a 50cc biKe to cruise around Agnes in search of kangaroos and general quick-as-you-can-possibly-make-them-go thrills on these tiny little bikes. My bike, rather predictably, however, decided to die two thirds of the way round so I got to ride pinion on one of the guides bikes, which really could move. So, all in all not a bad way to spend an afternoon and early evening.
So, that brings me to our last activity in Agnes Water; the Castaway Experience, which we really on discovered on or way up to Agnes itself. The basic principle is that you are flown out to a 'desert' island in a light aircraft and then spent 24 hours there basically enjoying the isolation and sense foe abandonment. In reality you are on the far side of an island that is actually linked to the mainland for large parts of the day and has a permanent lighthouse keeper, not to mention the other groups of castaways around in the next bay. Regardless, it was a lot of fun, not least for the journey out in Bruce's plane (yes that is his real name! At last an Aussie that lived up to the stereotype!) during which time he performs little acrobatic tricks for your enjoyment or displeasure, it doesn't seem to bother him either way! His party piece is, on the return leg, to place a camera from one of his unwitting passengers on the dashboard of the plane and then have it fly across the cockpit, by rising sharply and then dropping even more sharply to induce a brief state of zero G. It's certainly more entertaining and spine tingling than anything you are likely to find a Ryanair pilot doing. All in all, the experience is absolutely worth the money and hugely entertaining all round!
Finally leaving Agnes Water, after what seemed like altogether far too long, we headed on up towards our next big stop, Airlie Beach, but decided t make an impromptu stop at a cattle station in a place called Kroombit for a night. This was a decision literally made at the last minute, before scrambling on to the bus headed out to the station in something of a mad dash. After a couple of hours drive out into the Australian countryside, we arrived at what was palpably a cattle station, complete with the necessary cowgirls and boys wandering around in hats, bandanas, check shirts and even boots with spurs. Opting for an afternoon's horse riding, after a mere ten years since I had last ridden a horse, I found myself on the back of 'Big Red' and setting off for an afternoon's goat round-up, which turned out to be one of the best things we did in Australia, to my mind anyway. As well a this, we did a goat rodeo, learnt to crack a whip, rode a mechanical bull, learnt to toss a lasso and most importantly, ate some of the freshest and best steak I've ever eaten. Passing a fairly cold night in the converted stables, we awoke at some silly hour of the morning to head back into Rockhampton and then on to Airlie Beach.
Before long, the journey had passed, I certainly spent most of it asleep owing to our ridiculously late night and horrible early start. Anyway, we arrived in Airlie Beach to begin our trip out to the Whistunday Islands, only to find that not only was the weather less than clement, but it was also due to rain on all three days of our trip. This notwithstanding we were excited about seeing one of the most beautiful places on earth and the various treats it had in store for us. Not least of which was Whitehaven Beach, where one can find the purest silica in the world (97%), so much so that one can actually brush ones teeth with it and exfoliate ones skin,should you so desire. So, after a day or two of enjoying being back in a decent sized town with a good nightlife and the like, we set off, on our enormous trimaran; Avatar, crewed by the affable deckhand Dave, the piratical cook Tristan and the lecherous but loveable skipper Kevin. Our first day's sailing took us out to the shelter if a bay just on the other side of the island from Whitehaven, where we weighed anchor and set about filling hungry stomachs and getting to know the crew and fellow travellers we would be spending the next few days with. After a good night's sleep we set off ready to snorkel and beach to our heart's content in our oh-so-attractive stinger suits we were required to wear. Anyway, we soon arrived on Whitehaven Beach, or rather just on the far side of the island and so gained the benefit of the walk through the rainforest to the beach itself. We were suitably awestruck by the beach, it's pristine sands undulated away from us into the distance and before long we were actually on it gambolling about marvelling at the swarms of tiny blue crabs that inhabit it and the stingrays that lurk in the shadows not to mention the fact that we ran into some friends from uni on the beach - of all places on Earth! Not only was the beach itself spectacular, but we also had some decent weather for it, the sun came out for approximately three hours during our entire Whitsundays trip, almost all of which was on Whitehaven Beach, while we larked about. It was to be, undoubtedly, one of the highlights of our entire trip. The following day we snorkelled some more of the Great Barrier Reef (which, written now seems extraordinary, but at the time seemed almost mundane) before heading back into Airle Beach to enjoy a last couple of nights there before moving on further up the coast to Magnetic Island and onwards towards Cairns.
I will, however, have to leave you there as my bed is calling and I can't resist but rest assured that there is so much more to come!
Happy travels, whether they be across continents, countries or even just your own imagination.
Joe
We checked into our rather strange hostel, whose receptionist assured us that the lack of lock on the room door wouldn't be an issue. How right she was. I can safely say Agnes Water is one of the sleepiest and Most unexceptional places I've ever been. It did, however, I should say, provide us with three activities that we all enjoyed enormously. First and so far the t gaping hole in our Australian adventure; surfing. We booked ourselves onto a beginners course and set off down to the beach ready to ride some waves and show off our surfing prowess. Needless to we spent an awful lot of time coughing salt water and sliding off the incredibly slippery surfboards. To those professionals out there, I take my hat off to you in recognition of your oh-so-cool and no doubt hard won prowess and skill. So having discovered surfing wasn't quite as easy as we might have supposed, we set off in search of something a little more rewarding, namely, the aforementioned scooterooi g. The basic principled being that you are kitted out in leather jacket, helmet and biker tattoos (fake) and then put on a 50cc biKe to cruise around Agnes in search of kangaroos and general quick-as-you-can-possibly-make-them-go thrills on these tiny little bikes. My bike, rather predictably, however, decided to die two thirds of the way round so I got to ride pinion on one of the guides bikes, which really could move. So, all in all not a bad way to spend an afternoon and early evening.
So, that brings me to our last activity in Agnes Water; the Castaway Experience, which we really on discovered on or way up to Agnes itself. The basic principle is that you are flown out to a 'desert' island in a light aircraft and then spent 24 hours there basically enjoying the isolation and sense foe abandonment. In reality you are on the far side of an island that is actually linked to the mainland for large parts of the day and has a permanent lighthouse keeper, not to mention the other groups of castaways around in the next bay. Regardless, it was a lot of fun, not least for the journey out in Bruce's plane (yes that is his real name! At last an Aussie that lived up to the stereotype!) during which time he performs little acrobatic tricks for your enjoyment or displeasure, it doesn't seem to bother him either way! His party piece is, on the return leg, to place a camera from one of his unwitting passengers on the dashboard of the plane and then have it fly across the cockpit, by rising sharply and then dropping even more sharply to induce a brief state of zero G. It's certainly more entertaining and spine tingling than anything you are likely to find a Ryanair pilot doing. All in all, the experience is absolutely worth the money and hugely entertaining all round!
Finally leaving Agnes Water, after what seemed like altogether far too long, we headed on up towards our next big stop, Airlie Beach, but decided t make an impromptu stop at a cattle station in a place called Kroombit for a night. This was a decision literally made at the last minute, before scrambling on to the bus headed out to the station in something of a mad dash. After a couple of hours drive out into the Australian countryside, we arrived at what was palpably a cattle station, complete with the necessary cowgirls and boys wandering around in hats, bandanas, check shirts and even boots with spurs. Opting for an afternoon's horse riding, after a mere ten years since I had last ridden a horse, I found myself on the back of 'Big Red' and setting off for an afternoon's goat round-up, which turned out to be one of the best things we did in Australia, to my mind anyway. As well a this, we did a goat rodeo, learnt to crack a whip, rode a mechanical bull, learnt to toss a lasso and most importantly, ate some of the freshest and best steak I've ever eaten. Passing a fairly cold night in the converted stables, we awoke at some silly hour of the morning to head back into Rockhampton and then on to Airlie Beach.
Before long, the journey had passed, I certainly spent most of it asleep owing to our ridiculously late night and horrible early start. Anyway, we arrived in Airlie Beach to begin our trip out to the Whistunday Islands, only to find that not only was the weather less than clement, but it was also due to rain on all three days of our trip. This notwithstanding we were excited about seeing one of the most beautiful places on earth and the various treats it had in store for us. Not least of which was Whitehaven Beach, where one can find the purest silica in the world (97%), so much so that one can actually brush ones teeth with it and exfoliate ones skin,should you so desire. So, after a day or two of enjoying being back in a decent sized town with a good nightlife and the like, we set off, on our enormous trimaran; Avatar, crewed by the affable deckhand Dave, the piratical cook Tristan and the lecherous but loveable skipper Kevin. Our first day's sailing took us out to the shelter if a bay just on the other side of the island from Whitehaven, where we weighed anchor and set about filling hungry stomachs and getting to know the crew and fellow travellers we would be spending the next few days with. After a good night's sleep we set off ready to snorkel and beach to our heart's content in our oh-so-attractive stinger suits we were required to wear. Anyway, we soon arrived on Whitehaven Beach, or rather just on the far side of the island and so gained the benefit of the walk through the rainforest to the beach itself. We were suitably awestruck by the beach, it's pristine sands undulated away from us into the distance and before long we were actually on it gambolling about marvelling at the swarms of tiny blue crabs that inhabit it and the stingrays that lurk in the shadows not to mention the fact that we ran into some friends from uni on the beach - of all places on Earth! Not only was the beach itself spectacular, but we also had some decent weather for it, the sun came out for approximately three hours during our entire Whitsundays trip, almost all of which was on Whitehaven Beach, while we larked about. It was to be, undoubtedly, one of the highlights of our entire trip. The following day we snorkelled some more of the Great Barrier Reef (which, written now seems extraordinary, but at the time seemed almost mundane) before heading back into Airle Beach to enjoy a last couple of nights there before moving on further up the coast to Magnetic Island and onwards towards Cairns.
I will, however, have to leave you there as my bed is calling and I can't resist but rest assured that there is so much more to come!
Happy travels, whether they be across continents, countries or even just your own imagination.
Joe
Sunday, 19 June 2011
A much needed update. Part One.
Right, so first things first, I must apologise profusely for being so bloody useless at updating this thing. I do realise that it's been over three months and I'm sure you thought I'd all but given up on it. Truth be told, I pretty much had until we arrived in Auckland and discovered our hostel had free internet. So, long story short I sat on the computer from 3am to 4:30am writing a lovely long post for your delectation, only to then have the internet connection die on me and the whole thing be wiped. To say I was unhappy would be an understatement. Anyway, here I am writing a new one for you that, with any luck, will make it onto a computer and then finally into the 'blogosphere'!
So here goes:
When last I wrote we had just arrived in Sydney and were looking for jobs. So after spending a week at my Aunt's house acclimatising to the aussie summer and lifestyle (it didn't take much!) we moved out into a hostel in the centre of Sydney where we began our real antipodean backpacker experience. We spent a week there looking for jobs and sampling Sydney's nightlife. Before long I had secured myself a job at the Sydney Opera House (definitely my coolest job to date) through a friend who had been working there for some time but was leaving soon. The position essentially entailed taking photos of the tour groups the go round the opera house every half hour and the trying to sell the pack to them at the end of the tour. No small part of the reason I got the job was the fact that three times a week there is a french tour and they were in dire need of someone who could speak french to interact with the rather predictably reticent french tourists. So, having secured ourselves jobs we then spent the nexy month in Sydney working and enjoying the benefits of city life - great nightlife, a french patisserie open 24 hours a day (the most refined post-club food you'll ever eat!) and all sorts of wonderful events that occurred in and around the city.
On that subject, one of the biggest benefits of working at the opera house was being able to secure tickets to the various shows, operas, concerts, etc... that were going on while I was there. So, I had the privilege of seeing the Youtube Symphony Orchestra (find them here: www.youtube.com/symphony) perform a wonderfully eclectic selection of music both classical, contemporary and modern for free. I also managed to see an opera at the Sydney Opera House, which, it must be said, was definitely one of the highlights of our time in Australia for me. Not only did I manage to see an opera, with fantastic seats but I also took Bobby along to his first opera (The Barber of Seville, by the way). So, not only did I have a pretty cushy job, but it came with some fantastic benefits.
Anyway, the time came eventually for us to leave Sydney and begin our East Coast adventure. The first leg of it; Sydney to Brisbane, would be completed over ten days by campervan. We got ourselves a Wicked camper, which, it would be fair to say, had seen better days. So, we set off out of Sydney in the direction of my Aunt's Father-in-law's farm at a place called Quirindi, roughly five hours north of Sydney. We found ourselves in Quirindi after dark and following our rather rudimentary directions; 'head out of town 12kms, find the dirt road, head down it, take the first road on the left and it's the first house on the right, opposite the windmill.' We did eventually find the right track after several hilarious exploratory trips up various other farm tracks and then even managed to find the right turning to the left (it really was the first one) and then found what we were fairly sure was the right house, but was conspicuously lacking in windmills. By this time it was around 3am, so we settled down for the night hoping we hadn't parked on some poor stranger's front lawn. We awoke early and upon conclusively discovering there really was no windmill, scarpered off down the dirt track the way we had come. While scarpering I received a phone call from said Aunt's Father-in-law, who informed me 'nah mate, the windmill's gone'. So, rather sheepishly we turned around and wenr back to see what the farm house had to offer in the way of accommodation and entertainment. We discovered little in the way of entertainment until I spotted a cricket bat and a tennis ball, so we settled down to do what any sane Englishman would do; play cricket in the midday sun for several hours.
We moved on from Quirindi the next day, having spent the evening star gazing and relaxing in the almost total isolation, the nearest settlement being over 12kms away. We drove towards the coast through some spectacular scenery and down various roads that were at times a little terrifying in our little campervan, which, by this point, we had dubbed 'Sheila'. Our stop for the night was Coff's Harbour, where we spent one night sleeping in the back of our campervan in a carpark on the beach. I awoke to hear two old surfers talking about 'The Man in the Grey Suit', no prizes for guessing what that is.
Moving on fairly rapidly that morning we pressed on to Byron Bay, whereupon we discovered very quickly that the local authorities were pretty hot on parking regulations and so sleeping in our camper wasn't going to be a viable option. So, instead, we spent three nights in one of the most beautiful, relaxed and fun places I've ever been to. I cannot praise Byron Bay highly enough and would urge anyone and everyone to visit if they are anywhere near.
Pressing on up the coast we hit Surfer's Paradise, which we had very much envisioned as being similar to Byron Bay, but were surprised to find was a lot of more built up and felt more like a mini Miami. Regardless, we spent one night in our campervan in a carpark on the edge of town next to a sexual health clinic and then one night in a hostel. It was around this point that we started to see what people meant when they said the East Coast is a small place. People all tend to do the same things up the coast and tend to stay in the same places and as such you run into the same people time after time, which can make the experience all the more enjoyable if you happen to make friends with the right people.
Sadly time waits for no man and we had to return the campervan to the Wicked depot in Brisbane the following day so we pressed on. We arrived in Brisbane all feeling a little worse for wear and with tempers slightly frayed. Nonetheless we got checked in to our hostel and then set about returning our campervan to the depot on the other side of the city. We spent the majority of our time recuperating from the journey so far during the day and then for the two nights we were there, in the hostel bar having some drinks before we headed out to see what Brisbane had to offer. We were rather disappointed with what Brisbane had to offer, but are reliably assured that it is actually a lovely place and one that under better circumstances is definitely worth visiting again.
From Brisbane we headed north to Noosa. A sort of Byron Bay-esque place with rainforests and a hill. The entire journey there it poured with rain and upon arrival it made no attempt to change, so, with typical British stiff upper lipped attitude we decided to play volleyball in the pouring rain in various stages of undress on the helpfully provided volleyball court in the middle of the hostel. Having roped in various spectators to complete our teams we finally called it a day when we were all soaked through and the light was fading. We spent the following days in Noosa adding to our already growing collection of friends as well as whiling away the hours doing large group sing-a-longs thanks to Bobby 'Chukebox' Chucas and sampling the rather limited nightlife. As with all good things, however, the time came for us to move on and so we said our good byes and hopped on the Oz Experience bus to Rainbow Beach.
Rainbow Beach is a very sleepy little town on the pacific coast that for the Oz Experience serves as little more than an overnight stop and a chance to break up the mammoth journey that takes travellers to their Fraser Island adventures. We did, however, have one very pleasant surprise while we were there; a free sand walk that the hostel puts on. We were lead through a meandering track to the top of an enormous sand dune where we were able to sand board, try our hand at throwing a boomerang and watch the sunset over the swampland behind the town. Our route back from the walk lead us down a steep sand bank striated with different coloured sands owing to the varied mineral deposits in the soil. The colours definitely lived up to the eponymous description and were a beautiful sight in the evening light. We finally wound our way along the beach in the twilight and early hours of darkness before returning to the hostel.
Leaving Rainbow Beach at some ungodly hour of the morning the next day we headed up to Hervey Bay where we were to spend one night before we began our Fraser Island adventure. Having received our briefing on the perils of such activities as sleeping on the beach (don't!), going in the ocean (it will kill you instantly! (There are tiger sharks breeding in the waters off Fraser Island)) and what to do when faced with a dingo (cross your arms and walk backwards away from it) we had one last good night's sleep and in the morning set off in convoy for Fraser Island itself.
Fraser Island is the world's largest sand island. It is over 125kms and has various settlements on it, not to mention a tribe of aborigines and the enormously varied wildlife that exists there. We were in what is referred to as a 'tag-a-long' tour, so while we were all driving our own 4x4s we also had a guide with us to show us the highlights of the Island and take us to our campsite, as well as to help us navigate the challenging elements that driving on sand brings. Each vehicle contained eight people, some of whom had chosen to go together and others who were together out of necessity or by default. We had the good fortune to have met up with a friend of ours from Sydney and to have found three others we liked the look of to complete our vehicle. Our additions were a crazy Ukranadian (Ukranian-Canadian in case you hadn't guessed), a loopy Irish girl and her English travelling buddy. So, we set off bright and early to catch the ferry over to the Island and upon arrival were immediately launched into the fantastic off road driving we would be encountering over the next three days. From the deep, soft sand of Indian head to dodging the swells on the beach to driving the inland tracks that felt more like a rollercoaster than a road, we drove it all and came out the other side in one piece and more than a little exhilarated.
So, we were to spend three days on Fraser Island, during which time we had a packed schedule. Whether it was the drive in to the campsite on the first day or the sandblow and steep sanddunes into Lake Wobby or even the crystal clear warm waters of Lake MacKenzie we never stopped moving or being amazed at what such a comparatively small island could offer us. As well as Lakes Wobby and MacKenzie we also visited Lake Allom where we received the closest thing to a spa treatment that the island had to offer; a tea tree lake where the oils and minerals in the lake leave your skin and hair feeling wonderfully cleansed and replenished. Something we all needed after several days of basic campsite facilities. One of the most spectacular sights on Fraser Island was the SS Maheno, a wrecked ship that sits hull deep in the sand on the main beach of the Island and which everyone drives past. So, suddenly we found ourselves driving past a shipwreck on our way to the campsite on the first day and it would be fair to say that more than a few jaws dropped.
Anyway, after spending three days exploring the Island, watching the moon rise over the Pacific Ocean, bathing in the various lakes on the island and dodging the local dingo population we had to depart. So, we piled into our trusty 4x4s and headed off in convoy again to make the trip back to the mainland. Finally arriving back in Hervey Bay we unpacked, moved into the hostel again and set about celebrating our return with a night out before we moved on up the coast the next morning.
I have much, much more to tell but for now that will have to suffice until I can get around to typing up the rest of it. I hope that keeps you satisfied for a while and once again I must apologise for my awful tardiness. I will, however, write it all up eventually. Although at this rate parts of it won't be done until I actually get home, but you never know!
Happy travels and much love from the other side of the world!
Joe
p.s. I'm in Queenstown at the moment, which is a serious contender for being one of my favourite places in the world. Wish there was a bit of snow though...
So here goes:
When last I wrote we had just arrived in Sydney and were looking for jobs. So after spending a week at my Aunt's house acclimatising to the aussie summer and lifestyle (it didn't take much!) we moved out into a hostel in the centre of Sydney where we began our real antipodean backpacker experience. We spent a week there looking for jobs and sampling Sydney's nightlife. Before long I had secured myself a job at the Sydney Opera House (definitely my coolest job to date) through a friend who had been working there for some time but was leaving soon. The position essentially entailed taking photos of the tour groups the go round the opera house every half hour and the trying to sell the pack to them at the end of the tour. No small part of the reason I got the job was the fact that three times a week there is a french tour and they were in dire need of someone who could speak french to interact with the rather predictably reticent french tourists. So, having secured ourselves jobs we then spent the nexy month in Sydney working and enjoying the benefits of city life - great nightlife, a french patisserie open 24 hours a day (the most refined post-club food you'll ever eat!) and all sorts of wonderful events that occurred in and around the city.
On that subject, one of the biggest benefits of working at the opera house was being able to secure tickets to the various shows, operas, concerts, etc... that were going on while I was there. So, I had the privilege of seeing the Youtube Symphony Orchestra (find them here: www.youtube.com/symphony) perform a wonderfully eclectic selection of music both classical, contemporary and modern for free. I also managed to see an opera at the Sydney Opera House, which, it must be said, was definitely one of the highlights of our time in Australia for me. Not only did I manage to see an opera, with fantastic seats but I also took Bobby along to his first opera (The Barber of Seville, by the way). So, not only did I have a pretty cushy job, but it came with some fantastic benefits.
Anyway, the time came eventually for us to leave Sydney and begin our East Coast adventure. The first leg of it; Sydney to Brisbane, would be completed over ten days by campervan. We got ourselves a Wicked camper, which, it would be fair to say, had seen better days. So, we set off out of Sydney in the direction of my Aunt's Father-in-law's farm at a place called Quirindi, roughly five hours north of Sydney. We found ourselves in Quirindi after dark and following our rather rudimentary directions; 'head out of town 12kms, find the dirt road, head down it, take the first road on the left and it's the first house on the right, opposite the windmill.' We did eventually find the right track after several hilarious exploratory trips up various other farm tracks and then even managed to find the right turning to the left (it really was the first one) and then found what we were fairly sure was the right house, but was conspicuously lacking in windmills. By this time it was around 3am, so we settled down for the night hoping we hadn't parked on some poor stranger's front lawn. We awoke early and upon conclusively discovering there really was no windmill, scarpered off down the dirt track the way we had come. While scarpering I received a phone call from said Aunt's Father-in-law, who informed me 'nah mate, the windmill's gone'. So, rather sheepishly we turned around and wenr back to see what the farm house had to offer in the way of accommodation and entertainment. We discovered little in the way of entertainment until I spotted a cricket bat and a tennis ball, so we settled down to do what any sane Englishman would do; play cricket in the midday sun for several hours.
We moved on from Quirindi the next day, having spent the evening star gazing and relaxing in the almost total isolation, the nearest settlement being over 12kms away. We drove towards the coast through some spectacular scenery and down various roads that were at times a little terrifying in our little campervan, which, by this point, we had dubbed 'Sheila'. Our stop for the night was Coff's Harbour, where we spent one night sleeping in the back of our campervan in a carpark on the beach. I awoke to hear two old surfers talking about 'The Man in the Grey Suit', no prizes for guessing what that is.
Moving on fairly rapidly that morning we pressed on to Byron Bay, whereupon we discovered very quickly that the local authorities were pretty hot on parking regulations and so sleeping in our camper wasn't going to be a viable option. So, instead, we spent three nights in one of the most beautiful, relaxed and fun places I've ever been to. I cannot praise Byron Bay highly enough and would urge anyone and everyone to visit if they are anywhere near.
Pressing on up the coast we hit Surfer's Paradise, which we had very much envisioned as being similar to Byron Bay, but were surprised to find was a lot of more built up and felt more like a mini Miami. Regardless, we spent one night in our campervan in a carpark on the edge of town next to a sexual health clinic and then one night in a hostel. It was around this point that we started to see what people meant when they said the East Coast is a small place. People all tend to do the same things up the coast and tend to stay in the same places and as such you run into the same people time after time, which can make the experience all the more enjoyable if you happen to make friends with the right people.
Sadly time waits for no man and we had to return the campervan to the Wicked depot in Brisbane the following day so we pressed on. We arrived in Brisbane all feeling a little worse for wear and with tempers slightly frayed. Nonetheless we got checked in to our hostel and then set about returning our campervan to the depot on the other side of the city. We spent the majority of our time recuperating from the journey so far during the day and then for the two nights we were there, in the hostel bar having some drinks before we headed out to see what Brisbane had to offer. We were rather disappointed with what Brisbane had to offer, but are reliably assured that it is actually a lovely place and one that under better circumstances is definitely worth visiting again.
From Brisbane we headed north to Noosa. A sort of Byron Bay-esque place with rainforests and a hill. The entire journey there it poured with rain and upon arrival it made no attempt to change, so, with typical British stiff upper lipped attitude we decided to play volleyball in the pouring rain in various stages of undress on the helpfully provided volleyball court in the middle of the hostel. Having roped in various spectators to complete our teams we finally called it a day when we were all soaked through and the light was fading. We spent the following days in Noosa adding to our already growing collection of friends as well as whiling away the hours doing large group sing-a-longs thanks to Bobby 'Chukebox' Chucas and sampling the rather limited nightlife. As with all good things, however, the time came for us to move on and so we said our good byes and hopped on the Oz Experience bus to Rainbow Beach.
Rainbow Beach is a very sleepy little town on the pacific coast that for the Oz Experience serves as little more than an overnight stop and a chance to break up the mammoth journey that takes travellers to their Fraser Island adventures. We did, however, have one very pleasant surprise while we were there; a free sand walk that the hostel puts on. We were lead through a meandering track to the top of an enormous sand dune where we were able to sand board, try our hand at throwing a boomerang and watch the sunset over the swampland behind the town. Our route back from the walk lead us down a steep sand bank striated with different coloured sands owing to the varied mineral deposits in the soil. The colours definitely lived up to the eponymous description and were a beautiful sight in the evening light. We finally wound our way along the beach in the twilight and early hours of darkness before returning to the hostel.
Leaving Rainbow Beach at some ungodly hour of the morning the next day we headed up to Hervey Bay where we were to spend one night before we began our Fraser Island adventure. Having received our briefing on the perils of such activities as sleeping on the beach (don't!), going in the ocean (it will kill you instantly! (There are tiger sharks breeding in the waters off Fraser Island)) and what to do when faced with a dingo (cross your arms and walk backwards away from it) we had one last good night's sleep and in the morning set off in convoy for Fraser Island itself.
Fraser Island is the world's largest sand island. It is over 125kms and has various settlements on it, not to mention a tribe of aborigines and the enormously varied wildlife that exists there. We were in what is referred to as a 'tag-a-long' tour, so while we were all driving our own 4x4s we also had a guide with us to show us the highlights of the Island and take us to our campsite, as well as to help us navigate the challenging elements that driving on sand brings. Each vehicle contained eight people, some of whom had chosen to go together and others who were together out of necessity or by default. We had the good fortune to have met up with a friend of ours from Sydney and to have found three others we liked the look of to complete our vehicle. Our additions were a crazy Ukranadian (Ukranian-Canadian in case you hadn't guessed), a loopy Irish girl and her English travelling buddy. So, we set off bright and early to catch the ferry over to the Island and upon arrival were immediately launched into the fantastic off road driving we would be encountering over the next three days. From the deep, soft sand of Indian head to dodging the swells on the beach to driving the inland tracks that felt more like a rollercoaster than a road, we drove it all and came out the other side in one piece and more than a little exhilarated.
So, we were to spend three days on Fraser Island, during which time we had a packed schedule. Whether it was the drive in to the campsite on the first day or the sandblow and steep sanddunes into Lake Wobby or even the crystal clear warm waters of Lake MacKenzie we never stopped moving or being amazed at what such a comparatively small island could offer us. As well as Lakes Wobby and MacKenzie we also visited Lake Allom where we received the closest thing to a spa treatment that the island had to offer; a tea tree lake where the oils and minerals in the lake leave your skin and hair feeling wonderfully cleansed and replenished. Something we all needed after several days of basic campsite facilities. One of the most spectacular sights on Fraser Island was the SS Maheno, a wrecked ship that sits hull deep in the sand on the main beach of the Island and which everyone drives past. So, suddenly we found ourselves driving past a shipwreck on our way to the campsite on the first day and it would be fair to say that more than a few jaws dropped.
Anyway, after spending three days exploring the Island, watching the moon rise over the Pacific Ocean, bathing in the various lakes on the island and dodging the local dingo population we had to depart. So, we piled into our trusty 4x4s and headed off in convoy again to make the trip back to the mainland. Finally arriving back in Hervey Bay we unpacked, moved into the hostel again and set about celebrating our return with a night out before we moved on up the coast the next morning.
I have much, much more to tell but for now that will have to suffice until I can get around to typing up the rest of it. I hope that keeps you satisfied for a while and once again I must apologise for my awful tardiness. I will, however, write it all up eventually. Although at this rate parts of it won't be done until I actually get home, but you never know!
Happy travels and much love from the other side of the world!
Joe
p.s. I'm in Queenstown at the moment, which is a serious contender for being one of my favourite places in the world. Wish there was a bit of snow though...
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