A Few Snapshots of Oz

Tin Can Bay

The local pod of dolphins arrive at the marina cafe every morning at 8 o'clock for their breakfast

Rainbow Beach

The fruit bats of Fraser Island, a bar of sand covered in rainforest approximately 1km from the main land, head back to shore every evening to feed.  A black swirling cloud erupted from the horizon and slowly crept out across the bay and over our heads.  Thousand of them, large, spindly, silken winged, poured like an inky river across the sky and into the trees behind us.

The Road

Rumbling away beneath our tyres, the hot tarmac of the Bruce Highway leads us hundreds of kilometres into the bush, over the Tropic of Capricorn towards the steamy depths of North Queensland.

Agnes Water and the Town of Seventeen Seventy

Upon arriving at our campsite in this historical area of Queensland (the site of Captain Cook's landing in 1770), the owner had to shoo away a troop of kangaroos grazing on our pitch.  As they hopped away, we noticed a kookaburra stood in the grass wrestling a huge worm from the ground like a fisherman reeling in a mammoth catch.  Watching this scene nervously from the shadows, a long, thin, bright green tree snake lay silent, its head pulled up above the tall grass.  The same group of kangaroos would come thudding through the campsite the next morning, whistling right past our breakfast table before quickly slipping into the bush.  At sunset, the entire local population of lorikeets would dart en masse from tree to tree, twisting and banking at full speed just above our heads. Their screeches and squawks filled the air, forcing us to shout at eachother to be heard, until an unknown signal sent them tearing into the sky and out of sight, leaving us with nothing but the chirps of crickets and the throaty croaks of the gang of toads who would huddle in the streaks of light beaming out of the shower block.

St Helen's Beach

A campsite all to ourselves right at the edge of the South Pacific Sea.

Australia is HUGE!

We are currently at the top of our tour of the East Coast, almost 1,300 miles from Sydney, in the tropical paradise that is Airlie Beach, the gateway to the Whitsunday Islands and The Great Barrier Reef.  It is hot, it is humid and short, sharp and heavy rain showers are testing the door seals of the ageing campervan.  Free WiFi is pretty scarce in Australia, hence the lack of blog posts.  Expect a few photographs soon, along with the full run down of our long drive up here.  We've battled armies of mosquitoes, come face to face with enormous hissing beetles, gazed in awe as a large cloud of thousands of giant fruit bats swept over the beach we were camped on, and watched a troop of kangaroos bound through our camping pitch and disappear into the bush as we sat eating breakfast.

Road Tripping

On our last day in The Blue Mountains, a thick fog rolled up the valley like a dust storm and smothered the area in rain and mist.  The temperature fell as fast as the rain so we sealed ourselves inside the van with wine, music and playing cards.  The next morning, everything in the Hippie was dripping with moisture and condensation - these vans aren't built for the cold!  The cab area was filled with our wet clothes and our soaked flip-flops lay sadly on the grass outside, cold and stiff.  Despite this, we felt rather smug as our fellow campers crawled out of saturated, wind battered tents and piled them, still dripping, into the backs of their cars.  Throwing our wet gear into the back of the van, we were on the road within minutes, the heater at full blast and the engine, which sits behind the front seats, slowly warming up the rear.  The wet weather persisted as we edged north, with intermittent heavy showers meeting us as we hunted for the sun. The cold and damp of the previous evening rendered our windscreen wipers permanently on for a few hours, which, when the rain stopped, began to heave and scrape their way across the dry screen as their motors whined and cried with the strain.  We therefore had to stop and start our journey every so often, removing and replacing the fuse as the rain came and went.

A few hundred kilometres later and the van was back to normal, everything was dry and we were rolling along a dirt road towards a small campground by the beach in another National Park.  Unfortunately, the cyclone had left it's mark on the weather and the wind continued to howl and stir an immense range of grey cloud above the wild coastline which roared with pounding waves, curling several metres high before smashing into the sand.  Although beautiful and romantic, it was not the Australian beach holiday we had hoped for.

Two more days of solid driving followed as we hunted for the sun and some warmth.  So now, almost one thousand kilometres from where we started, we are just south of Brisbane and the sun has finally appeared.  We can once again smother on the sun screen and hang up our umbrellas.  We're in Ipswich, camped out in the car park of a motel (it was advertised as a campsite), to visit some old workmates of Rosie's who now run a lovely cafe in one of the town's parks.  After this, we shall head another thousand kilometres north, to Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef.

Breakfast burger and milkshake at the Queen's Park Cafe, Ipswich

Campervanning in Australia

Our short stay in Sydney ended with two days of solid rainfall - the tail end of a cyclone which caused immense flooding and damage along the East coast.  Having collected our "Hippie Camper", we were soon whizzing along the motorway through torrential rain and wind, towards The Blue Mountains National Park.

A couple of hours drive inland made all the difference and we enjoyed two days of fine hot weather.  Pulling back the curtain in the morning while tucked up in bed in the back of the Mitsubishi, the cool mist soon sizzled away into a flawless blue sky.  From the small kitchen at the back of the van, we prepared a hearty breakfast each day (six Weetabix for Simon!) with  yellow crested cockatoos looking down at us from the gum trees.

When the washing up was done, using the tiny pump action tap and sink, we'd jump into the cab and head to one of the many hiking trails which criss-cross the park.

With the aid of a few small wooden signs, our boots soon carried us out into the wilderness.  Starting in a wild bush forest, which was so hot and dry, the air sapped the moisture from our mouths in minutes, we followed rocky staircases down into the "Grand Canyon" where thick rain forest began to flourish.  The path dropped further, into the shadows of steamy groves and secluded waterfalls, where rainbow blades of sunlight shone down from high above, illuminating the giant leaves of luminous green which hung over our heads.

The landscape was almost too perfect to be natural.  It felt like we were in a themepark and would any moment bump into the glass dome that surrounded us.  Parrots flashed through the trees, the kind you only ever see in cages and on the shoulders of pirates, their wings splashed with bright blues and reds.  We hopped over boulders, clambered over fallen trees and passed behind waterfalls which crashed down from overhanging rock ledges.

The thick canopy of trees made for a cool, eerie setting, and high walls of striped rock wrapped around us on all sides.  Stepping through the jagged, tiger striped shadows of fern leaves, we would send lizards and other invisible creatures scurrying into the undergrowth.  Plants and bushes towered over us and the scent of the many tropical flowers perfumed the thick air.  The path grew steep.  We pushed our tired limbs upwards, our lungs heaving, muscles throbbing, faces red and glistening with sweat.  Eventually, the sunlight slowly began to penetrate the canopy which seemed to be opening up the further we trod.  Approaching a clearing, the full power of the sun light flashed white over our eyes.  As they adjusted, we found ourselves looking out over the enormity of the valley we'd just crossed.  Filling the full 180 degree space before us, lush plains of rainforest swept up from the basin of the valley reaching towering craggy rock faces of amber and gold which scored the blue sky bluntly before falling away again at the edge of a forested plateau.  The river wound lazily through the entire landscape, wrapping itself around each layer of green stacked off into the distance.  And above all of this, like a romantic lens filter placed over the whole scene, a faint blue mist hovered in the air, the sweet haze of the slowly evaporating eucalyptus tree oil which gives the area its name.

It was one of the most beautiful place we have ever visited.

Bacon sarnies, brown sauce, steak & chips, and spectacular views...

We like it here!

Leaving Asia

After just over five months, our departure from this unique and diverse continent is imminent.  We are currently sat sweltering in our tiny guesthouse in Little India and when I finish with this post, we'll make our way over to Singapore airport for the seven and half hour flight to Sydney.

Here are a few images from our short stay in Singapore.

Part of the Singapore Theatre roof structure

The Marina

Singapore Zoo and Night Safari

For anyone who might be confused, this is not me

And as a very brief summary of Malaysia:

Likes:  Multiculturalism.  It was so nice to see people from all over the world all calling themselves, and being accepted as, Malay.  

Dislikes:  Price of alcohol.  Being an official Muslim country, booze is very heavily taxed and having a beer in a bar became a treat - a long way from the 12p beers of Vietnam.

Favourite Day:  Hiking in Cameron Highlands.  It turns out we're very much into outdoor pursuits - the muckier the better.

Favourite Meal:  Indian Pizza!  Chicken, bread, cheese and spice - simple and delicious.

Favourite Beer:  Again, it's not really a place for drinking, so Chang (from Thailand) was the water of choice when we could afford it.

And an even briefer summary of Singapore:

Likes: Blend of cultures, foods and nationalities

Dislikes: Cost - S$12 for a small can of beer?  Where's the water fountain?

Favourite Day:  Zoo / Night Safari

Favourite Meal: Chicken tikka, naan bread, curry sauces - Indian cuisine is becoming something of an addiction.

Favourite Beer:  (see "Dislikes")

And now we're off to the airport!

CH to KL to SG

Since leaving the Cameron Highlands, our time in Asia has been rapidly accelerating towards completion.  Upon stepping down from the coach in Kuala Lumpur's central bus station, we were immediately swallowed up by the whirlwind of "KL".  At the southern tip of Malaysia, it is another city of contrasts.  A city which scorches during the day and roars with tropical rainstorms by night.  Chinese style shop fronts hug the sidewalks, the kitsch statues of Hindu temples hide behind clouds of incense smoke, street-food vendors huddle beneath frayed tarpaulins and futuristic shopping malls sprawl out from the feet of futuristic sky scrapers.  Other than that, there isn't much more to say - It's modern, it's traditional, it's loud and it's hot!

Downtown KL

Night streetfood

The famous Petronas Twin Towers - once the tallest in the world.

We have now moved to the tiny island republic of Singapore where we are spending just four nights before we fly to Australia to begin our great outback campervan adventure.  Like KL, Singapore is an uber modern metropolis, except much, much richer - the place reminds me of the Sims games - a country built from scratch in just a century, with every modern day amenity planned and provided for its five million inhabitants.  Also like KL, it is a city of immigrants - made up of mainly Chinese, Indian and Malay, which has meant some very good food (although we're still hooked on the tandoori chicken and naan combination).  Yet, with so much wealth, particularly among the expat population, a pint of local beer will set you back upwards of twelve Singapore dollars (£6)!  As the temperature in our non-airconned guesthouse is soaring, I must end there and will try and upload some photos from Australia.

Tea Time!

From Penang, we moved south and inland to the Cameron Highlands, an area famous for its high altitude, low temperatures and heavy rainfall.  As our mini bus roared up the steep, winding mountain roads, the icy draft of the air-conditioning was replaced with cool, fresh mountain air that poured in through the open windows.  Once we'd reached Tanah Rata, the "capital" town of the area, we felt something we hadn't felt for a while...cold!  We had to break open our rucksacks and pull out garments which have long lived in the dark depths, tucked in right at the bottom, our trousers.  

The area, having been discovered by the British at the end of the 19th century, still has a very English feel to it - a strange mix of Cornish seaside resort and a hillside Derbyshire town, all drizzled with romantic rain showers which roll up the valley each afternoon and hang around until the late evening, trapped in the horseshoe of steep green hills and mountains which surround the settlement.  The town even has an English cafe, serving scones with jam and cream, apple tarts, chicken pies and tea...lots of tea.  We even heard of a restaurant up the valley serving traditional roast dinners.  And as if it wasn't British enough, the area is like a retirement home for rusty old, battered Land Rovers, shipped here in the 60's straight from the homeland, which now cough, splutter and chug their way around the mountain roads, laden with the day's crop of cabbages, strawberries, runner beans, cauliflowers and courgettes (to name a few), all of which grow in abundance at this altitude.

Our first day was spent being thrown around the back of one of the aforementioned Land Rovers, with mould growing around its leaking door seals and a crunchy, grating gearbox providing the soundtrack.  We wound our way up the highest mountain in the area, explored a tree top jungle walk and relaxed at the Boh Plantation with a cup of freshly picked Earl Grey, overlooking a wide rippled green valley of lush tea bushes.  The day ended with a walk through a butterfly farm although Rosie doesn't really like butterflies:

The most fun, however, was when we donned our walking boots and took to the hiking trails.  Armed with the official trail map (which is little more than a hand drawn plan of the area with a few wiggly lines here and there) a compass and our wet weather gear, we headed for the hills.  Despite the number of tourists in the town, we were completely alone on the trails - many hotels warn about the unkempt, wild nature of the hills and advise visitors to take a local guide with them (at significant expense).  But, with the help of online forums, Wikipedia and Google, we spent three exhausting days working our way through the jungle and getting our kit thoroughly muddied while avoiding the bears, pumas, snakes, scorpions and spiders, all of which live in the region.

Using exposed tree roots and long snake-like vines, we hauled ourselves up steep muddy slopes with streams of the previous nights rainfall trickling down onto us.  We climbed over, under and even through the immense carcasses of fallen trees, hopped across peat bogs and parted giant ferns and overhanging bushes to find the faintly marked path in the dense undergrowth.  We traversed the lofty ridge of our valley with the wispy tails of clouds brushing the tree tops above us to the musical accompaniment of a troop of gibbons singing from afar.  We eventually pushed ourselves to the top of yet another mountain and gazed down at the world below us where the clouds were once again sailing up the valley and collecting in dark huddles above the town.  Lower down, corduroy-like rippled fields of tea glistened in the scattered sunlight, a warm golden glow hovering over the deep greens of the foothills which rolled off into the distance.

Our time in this most unexpected haven in the clouds has now ended and I write this from Kuala Lumpur.  With the temperature again in the mid thirties, our trousers are firmly back in the rucksacks.  "KL" is one seriously futuristic place and we feel a bit like we're in the mega city of a sci-fi movie - The Fifth Element, maybe - without the flying cars.

The Melting Pot of Malaysia

Having taken three mini buses, two ferries and a tuk-tuk, we arrived in Georgetown, Malaysia, the seventh country on our tour.  Sat in the north east corner of the small island of Penang, a short ferry or a long bridge from the mainland, this is where the British first landed, back in the 1700's, bringing with them the East India Company and starting the gradual colonisation of the country as a whole.  Being listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, we expected to find a sleepy little town with picturesque streets, quaint cafes & bars and plenty of historical landmarks...which we did.  What we had not expected was the modern, booming cosmopolitan city surrounding it.  The roads encircling the old town have, literally, traditional two-storey Chinese style shop fronts and historic mansions on one side, and giant modern malls and skyscrapers on the other.  Now we see why this is regarded as Malaysia's second city.

Love Lane

Heading on foot into the warren of streets and alleyways of the actual UNESCO site is a journey into the history of this unique town.  Roads, with names like Argyll, King, Queen, Buckingham, even Downing Street, lead you past rows of street food hawkers, with their shiny 'kitchen on wheels' carts, steaming with aromas of Chinese, Indian and, of course, Malay fare.  On the now famous plastic tables and chairs, set out on unused scraps of pavement, in front of closed or vacant office and shop buildings, one can sample delicious dishes from all over Asia; cuisines brought here many generations ago by the migrants who flocked to the newly established trading port, whose ancestors now make up the mixed blend of cultures who call this home.  Skewers strung with tender morsels of tandoori chicken, fiery bowls of fish soup, sizzling woks of noodles laced with blushed pink prawns, and flame grilled meats dipped in sticky satay sauce - there is so much on offer and with most dishes costing less than £2, it's no wonder that this place has become something of a foodie paradise   Many street food joints have become so established that they now stretch back into simple restaurant dining rooms, comprising of little more than a handful of chipped Formica tables and chairs beneath a halo of tube lighting and tiled walls - this is where we have found ourselves on most evenings, with a platter of meat and rice along with ice cold fresh fruit juices to cool us down.

Naan bread stuffed with shredded chicken, topped with cheese and served with a variety of curries

De Tai Tong Cafe - One of the best Dim Sum shops in town

So today, our last day before we head inland to the tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands, we took the elevator to the top of the tallest building on the island to take in the view - the 232m high KOMTAR tower.  Having taken far too many photographs from the deserted viewing centre on the 60th floor, we met some very friendly contractors who were working on the building's sprinkler system.  Now, the Malays, we have discovered, are extremely friendly, and these chaps kindly offered to take us to the roof.  'Better view,' one said, a tube of plans and schematics tucked under his arm.

'Must be quick,' chipped in the other, looking slightly nervous at his colleague's proposition.  'Must be quiet!'  Excited by the prospect of a windowless view of the city (which was pretty spectacular already) we quickly followed them, slipping past the "Authorised Personnel Only" sign, into the service elevator to climb a further three floors, out into the warm noon sunshine and up a wind swept steel mesh stair-case to the heli-pad on the very top of the building, 64 storeys up.  Wow!  We hastily snapped a few shots before the crackle of a security guard's radio echoed up from the corridors below, causing our chaperones to hastily usher us back down the stairs.  Stepping back into their roles as fire officers, they unrolled their blueprints and said goodbye to us at the service elevator entrance.  'If anyone see you coming out, just say you looking for toilet!' they called as the doors rattled closed.

Before I end, I realise I must summarise our time in Thailand:

Likes: The scenery.  It's not hard to see why Thailand has become famous for its tropical paradise beaches.  Crystal clear sea, sparkling sand and tall limestone stacks protruding from the water - we often felt as if we were in a postcard.

Dislikes:  Unfortunately, its beauty, its weather, its food and its people have contributed to it all feeling rather exhausted.  The shear number of tourists visiting the country, inspired no doubt by those very picture postcard snapshots, has added a rather unsavoury element to the place.  Numerous scams and cons mean one must always be on guard, unable to fully trust or warm to the locals.  Many restaurants have clearly latched on to the infinite chain of foreigners seeking their famous cuisine, and so choose to cut corners on ingredients, service and standards, or simply fill their menus with literally hundreds of dishes so as to cater to the widest audience - it was hard, therefore, to get a feel for the real Thailand.  In short, then, it just felt as if it had become too popular as a destination.  Indeed, we heard many tales of those who had visited Koh Phi Phi - world renowned for its natural beauty and stunning beaches.  'Avoid it,' many said.  'It has been ruined.'

Favourite Beer:  Leo.  Chang is the ubiquitous brew, plastering its brand across billboards, t-shirts and umbrellas, but Leo is far more palatable.

Favourite Meal:  Christmas day!  Barbecued chicken (marinated in our own blend of chili, lime, shallot, coriander and star anise), Rosie's perfect 'roast' potatoes (actually smothered in beef stock and fried) and some simple veg.  Special mention must be given to Rosie's sticky barbecued chicken marinade which we cooked on boxing day - divine!

Favourite Day:  Christmas day!  I've never had such a relaxing and enjoyable 25 December in all my life.  Presents, beach, barbecue, a movie and a long video call to our parents - all drizzled in plenty of red wine. And to have spent it somewhere as beautiful as Koh Yao Noi, in one of the most amazing houses I've ever stepped inside, let alone lived in, it was truly magical.

Happy New Year!

It has been a busy couple of weeks since Christmas day.  As you can imagine, we were pretty sad to leave The Waterhouse.  Our stay there was incredible.  Waking up to the sound of the sea lapping beneath the bed, looking out at that perfect view and watching the world drift by on the turquoise waters.  We gave serious thought to demolishing the bridge into the property and barricading ourselves in forever.  But we'd booked a beach bungalow on another Thai island and it would have been a shame to lose the deposit, so we packed our bags, boarded the early morning ferry and headed back to the mainland to catch another ferry southwards to Koh Lanta.

For just over a week, our  home was a tiny bamboo hut sat right at the edge of the beach.  With it's single power socket and solitary light bulb, it's cold water shower and banana leaf roof, it is quite a change from the luxury of our palace on Koh Yao Noi.  But, we do also enjoy the simple life and after long dreamy days in the sun, we'd pick up some beers from the local shop and step back down onto the beach to watch the giant disc of the sun sink into the ocean.  This was our entertainment; the sky burning in slow motion, blasting out crimson streaks of cloud like cotton wool fireworks soaring over our heads and into the oncoming twilight.

As the sun's light faded, the restaurants and bars lining the beach would turn the bay into one long string of lights twinkling in the breeze.  Tables and chairs would be set out on the sand and small ornamental fishing boats filled with ice would display whatever had been caught that day.  Through the overhanging trees, moon light scattered down onto the beach, catching the moving shells of giant hermit crabs scurrying from their holes towards the blackness of the sea.

And it was in this beautiful setting that we said goodbye to 2012 - the year we set off around the world.  After a feast of fresh seafood with spring rolls and rice, followed by a large ice cream sundae complete with sparkler, we made camp on a quiet darkened corner of the beach, lit a small fire, wedged our bottle of champagne in the sand and watched the new year arrive.  Rosie and I have never really been fans of New Year's Eve, seeing it as little more than a number on a calendar and a night of "forced fun" signalling the end of Christmas, our return to work and the start of the most depressing month of the year.  But given our current situation, this one was not like any other.

As midnight approached, families and friends huddled together in circles at the sea's edge around large floating paper lanterns.  Holding them tightly once the burner had been carefully lit, the flickering flame lit up their excited faces and the sand around them.  Those unfortunate soles too keen to let go would end up chasing their lantern towards the water as it skidded and slid perilously across the sand, it's paper chamber too cool to lift it.  But for those patient enough, those who clutched at the bamboo frame until the dome of light above tugged at their grip, their lantern, once released, would rocket up into the sky, above the tallest palm trees, where the offshore breeze would catch it and send the flickering light out over the ocean.  Beneath a sky of a billion stars and the immense cloudy streak of the milky way stretching from one horizon to the next, an armada of these gently glowing orbs of light took off from the island and floated up and over the Andaman Sea, drifting for miles and climbing hundreds of feet into  the air  So many were being launched from the two mile stretch of sand, it became hard to tell what were stars and what were lanterns - the sky was simply alive.

Then, like a rolling wave thundering up the beach, an orchestra of fireworks began to tear through the air.  It was midnight.  Fountains of light ignited the sky and streaks of colour fizzed out across the water.  Deep thuds of mortars followed by giant balls of fire crept towards us until they were overhead, raining white hot sparks down onto the water, illuminating the darkness, punching the warm air.  The fireworks from organised displays, put on by the various hotels and resorts, mixed with the rockets, bangers and roman candles being launched by revellers on the beach.  As new year began, the entire coastline was roaring with pyrotechnics of all sizes.

We became dizzy, turning our heads from one side of the bay to the other; as one surge of explosions died down to the north, another would begin to the south, passing by our small camp and strobing down onto us in glittering rainbows as our shadows danced in all directions across the sand.  All the while, lanterns continued their exodus into the sky, with explosions and rockets whizzing and cracking all around them.  We stood in silence, gripping each others' hand tightly, smiling wildly.  This year is going to be different.