The Great Escape!

Last day in NZ

2005-02-12T08:09:00.000Z

We manage to get up early, drop our bags at the hostel, wash the van and drop it off all before 10:30am so we’ve a good day to wander round Christchurch, sort through some info from the tourist office for my parents and then just chill out in our favourite Irish Pub for lunch, smashed potatoes washed down with Kilkenny, yum. Rob picks up a big box to send one of his rigs back home in and nips back into town to post it then we head down to the bar which is offering half price beer. By the time we realise we should eat something we’re quite giggly and the poor girl serving has to be patient while we place our order for pizza. We’ve a taxi ordered for 4am so after just 4hrs in bed we’re staggering up for a shower, before heading for the airport and I’m sad to leave NZ behind us for the last time.

Last view of the NZ coast

2005-02-10T08:08:00.000Z

Its our last day in the van and we’re looking to head up to spend the night near Christchurch ready to return the van early next morning. The sardines have been eaten in the night, probably by a possum, saving us the task of cleaning them up and we breakfast on porridge before heading back up the coast. I pull in at the Tin Shed to again look for potential presents, but despite the range of sheepskin and wool products they stock nothing springs to mind except for some very cute cowskin Ug boots which look very cute against my now tanned legs. Resisting the temptation to buy them I satisfy myself with feeding carrots to two very fat greedy pigs with huge teeth and two very cute donkeys they have on the petting farm out back. Even Rob gets out of the van to view them.

I suggest camping again on the coast near Lyttelton, south of Christchurch but after driving up and down the steep windy roads to get there, there is nowhere obvious to free-camp for the night so we stop in town to enquire at the tourist information office for the nearest campsite. The town is tiny and looks quite inbred plus there are no campsites near by so we grab some fish from the local chip shop, which is very good and then head to North-East of Christchurch near to a place called Scarborough for the night.

Finding a spot in the shade we set up, sort through all our stuff so we’re more or less packed for the morning then I persuade Rob to go for a stroll along the beach. It’s a pleasant evening and while walking back down the beach we stop to pet someone’s dog (or rather it launches itself at me and nearly knocks me flying with wet sandy paws) and we stop for a chat with the rather eccentric owner who has lived his whole life in this particular town and has some fascinating insights into the changes he has seen, not to mention a few funny anecdotes. We finally make our excuses and part, but he has suggested that we take a scenic walk around the other bay rather than back along the road or beach so we head off in that direction. By this time the wind has picked up and once we’re over the dunes and onto the other bay it is positively howling. We battle our way back along with the sea coming up over the boardwalk in places and finally spot the campsite through some trees as the rain is starting to come down.

I think it is funny but Rob swears never to take my suggestion of a nice little walk again so I have to placate him with chocolate and crisps from the shop. After a somewhat odd tea of our leftover food in the van, (in which my soup turned black after the addition of my field mushrooms but actually tasted quite nice), we settled down for a read then bed.

Big Trees and Beaches

2005-02-09T08:06:00.000Z

Next day, I’m keen to hit the road, I’ve read up on what is North of us and a vast forest apparently exists with a huge tree in the centre that is 6m in diameter. Rob is less than enthusiastic and as we walk in the woods keeps asking questions like he is on a school trip “is this the big tree? Are we there yet?” over and over again to wind me up. This just adds to my disappointment when we finally reach the tree and I realise I’ve misread the guide, the tree is 6m in circumference and so, although quite large, nothing like the mighty red woods for example that you’d get in the States that I’d pictured, even if it is a few thousand years old.

We troop back to the van and I agree that it probably isn’t the best place to stop for the night so back on the road I’m scanning the guidebook and suggest taking in the coast again. We travel back South a little to a place called Temuka where we agree to split up for a bit as I try yet again in vain to find something for family back home. Meeting back up after each snaffling a McD’s we have a stroll along the beach back to the campsite.

Rob has enough food in the van for tea so settles back but I’m keen for some salad so take a stroll to the nearest supermarket which is huge, even making Walmart look small. They don’t provide shopping baskets only enormous trolleys and going in there hungry isn’t the best of ideas but by reminding myself that we are flying out in a couple of days I manage to minimise the shopping, just.

As soon as I sit down for tea I’m surrounded by ducks and ducklings all wanting their share, so the bread comes out again and their soon quacking away with tails waggling. Rob tries them on the sardines but they turn their bills up in disgust and waddle off. The TV lounge is showing the movie Mummy so we settle to watch that before turning into for the night with the plate of sardines still sitting on the floor outside untouched and me nervously locking all the doors for fear of a mummy invasion...

Back Upt' North

2005-02-08T08:05:00.000Z

Next day, suitably rested and filled we set off on the road again. We’re heading back up to the mountain region, through the centre of the country this time, so on the other side of Mount Cook to before. Trev had told us how beautiful it was that way but as we got closer a damp grey mist of fog and drizzle descended and the views were largely obscured. Driving along Lake Pukaki we can still see how bright turquoise the waters are from the glacial flows but all else disappears in the mist. The huge hotel at Mount Cook is swarming with Japanese tourists but after a quick look in the DOC visitors centre we make our way back out of town to the DOC campsite. Rob agrees to us staying the night as its late afternoon and although the forecast isn’t great there is a slim possibility that we might get a view of the mountain in the morning, so we cook tea from within the van and watch the rain come down as the couple next door pitch their tent and then hide in the car.

The morning dawns bright and unexpectedly clear, so after Rob has had his now favourite breakfast of vegemite and avocado on toast (we’ve been down under too long!), we decide to take one of the shorter walks up to the glaciers. The waters are like pale clay with all the sediment and we walk on up to a small lake under Mount Cook where the views are beautiful but we’ve been spoilt viewing it from the other side and, after a spot of lunch, we’re happy to head back to the van and get back on the road, at least we’ve managed a bit of exercise.

Driving back round the end of Lake Pukaki we stop briefly to take in the bright waters again with the Mountain now making a fine backdrop in the distance but the whole scene is too bright for photos to do it any real justice and we carry on to Lake Tekapo. Another bright turquoise lake and the campsite right on the shores but we’re happy to pitch up under the shade of the trees and chill for the evening. The local sparrows are nothing if not cheeky and as soon as we are relaxing they flock around the van looking for food. Lucky for them we’ve just bought some bread and before long there must be 40 or so of them all getting closer and closer, even onto the step of the van. We eat corned beef and mash for tea, but Rob finds an odd lump in his which soon kills our appetites and even the sparrows won’t touch it. Later on Rob gives himself another haircut and provides them with some bedding material, then showered and rested we get some sleep.

Bungy!

2005-02-06T08:03:00.000Z

After a much deserved lie in we head back up to Queenstown, find a campsite on the edge of town and head in to book the bungy, the triple the next day, eek! The town is buzzing with backpackers and tour buses. So we settle down for a couple of beers and some people watching.

The first bungy we’ll do in the morning is the bridge one and I’m left thinking about it all night trying to decide if I should get dipped or not. By morning I’ve decided to go for it, (you only do this once right? Unless you’re Rob of course, its his second time for the triple), so armed with my bikini top under my t-shirt for just in case, we arrive at the office in town.

Once weighed and with our weight kindly displayed in big marker pen letters on our hands, we set off in the bus to the bridge. There are only three of us doing the triple so Rob volunteers to go first and I’m second as the other guy wants Rob to video his jump for him. I ask advice from the guys on the bridge on how best to jump off so I can get dipped and I’m getting a bit nervous as unlike the proper leg cuffs they used in Auckland, here we are just tied on with a towel wrapped around our legs and a bit of webbing tied around that. Rob seems confident enough though and is leaps off, getting neatly dunked in the river and then lowered into the raft that is waiting below. My turn and I waddle nervously to the edge, take a deep breath and dive off as instructed. I close my eyes and brace my chin to my chest as directed, preparing for the impact of the water, but before I know it I’m springing back in the air, dry as a bone. I’m lowered into the boat, relieved but a little disappointed not to get wet and as the video shows later you can hear the guys in charge calling out that I’ve been robbed at not getting wet. Oh well, jump 2 next and it’s the big one.

The bus is back to collect us to take us to the Nevis, the cable car bungy over a ravine and the highest static bungy in the world. The bus is now full of young people, some of them obviously suffering from the excesses of the night before (Rob hears one of them being sick in the toilet when we arrive and isn’t sure if it a hangover or nerves). Again we are weighed and then they start sending everyone out in weight order, heaviest first. This makes things easier for them as with such a long bungy they have to alter the cord used according to the weight of the individual. I’m allowed over early together with another girl as we are with blokes who obviously weigh a bit more, but all this means is we have to wait in the cable car longer. We travel across in the tiny car to the jump-pod with a lad pale faced and shaking he is so petrified of heights. He is white knuckled as he grips the pod to get out of the cable car and we’re questioning if he is going to jump at all as he waits his turn behind perhaps half a dozen other lads. Everyone jumps and reacts differently and as it comes to him everyone hushes apart from voicing odd words of encouragement, but without a pause he jumps cleanly off, whoops with delight on the rebound and comes up wearing the biggest grin. He even insists on getting his photo taken by the glass panel in the floor.

Rob’s turn and he with a slightly nervous laugh he is shuffling to the edge then leaps off and tracks away as far as he can. He is grinning away when he returns, but I’m getting more and more nervous, there are about 20 in our group and I’m going to be second to last and the waiting is getting to me. The rebound looks quite harsh and I’m worried its going to hurt, plus you have to release your legs on the second rebound or you come back up hung like a pig upside down, which doesn’t look comfortable. My turn finally comes round, I’m listening intently to all the instructions and all moisture has gone from my mouth. I leap off and it feels fantastic, the rebound is gentle and I release my legs easily, only the device that tows you back up comes down with a bit of a bang and I’m wishing I could do it all again without the nerves.

Jump 3 is the ledge, the shortest one but a cable car ride to the top of the hill overlooking Queenstown so offering some fantastic views. Plus with this one you’re attached at the waist so you can jump off any number of ways. Rob opts for a treble front somersault and leaps off happily, but he is snatched up sharply and I worry that it has hurt his arm plus he comes right up underneath and looks like he might hit. He comes back in with a grin though and its my turn. I’m not sure I’m co-ordinated enough trust myself to do somersaults so the guy offers to lower me off backwards then just let go. It will be the first one I haven’t consciously jumped for and he toys with me dangling me backwards up and down a few times before finally letting go. There is a delayed reaction as the full sensation of falling hits me and I scream out a yelp of surprise and probably horror. The elastic is much stronger and in my graceful (not!) upside down position I’m snatched back round with the rope catching my thigh. No harm done though and I’m grinning like an idiot, a great end to the experience.

We nip into town for a bite to eat then back to the campsite for a shower and to dress up for a night on the town, something we haven’t really done since being away. The place is buzzing and we take in a few different bars, being adopted briefly in one by a group of U.S. students on a work experience break over there, most of whom are really nice, friendly and chatty but one who pointedly tells me “not to read anything into it, one of the guys is friendly to everyone” before stalking off to another bar. The guy in question has been happily swapping music tastes with Rob for a while and the girl next to him exclaims in relief when the snotty one leaves, thought it was just me she didn’t like but apparently that is just what she is like. Apologies all round and they head off then we head out in search of another pub.

We find a nice little old place down a back street and ask permission to join a table with a middle aged couple sat at it. Larger than life the pair keep us entertained with tales of nude sunbathing on the beach and the saga of her struggle to maintain the balance between her best friend and her sister who hate each other. Its her birthday so on this night they were grabbing a quiet moment before the two had to come face to face and at just that moment the two arrive from different directions, almost like a stand off in a cowboy movie and the air almost sparks with the atmosphere. With apologetic shrugs and a knowing wink they all leave for a night club and Rob and I move down the road to a cellar club, with a resident DJ playing some mellow dance music. We get chatting to the girl behind the bar about where is the best place to go to and she soon has a map out and a list of all the clubs in town, crossing them off and highlighting them to let us know where to go and when. We stay on for a couple of drinks and by then the place we’re in is filling and the music is more upbeat house with the dancefloor heaving. We’re soon in the thick of it with big grins on our faces until I decide I need to cool off outside for a bit and Rob joins me and we agree we’re ready for bed. Not quite the all nighter we’d had planned but we’ve had a great time and are happy to call it there.

The next day we’re feeling the effects and I leave Rob to sleep it off, booking us in for one more night at the campsite and popping out for a sushi breakfast and some supplies for tea. The lady in the next van is flying back next day so pushes their supply of bacon and sausages onto to us and we’re sorted for a full cooked brekkie next morning.

Milford Track

2005-02-03T08:02:00.000Z

After doing the Abel Tasman walk we’ve decided that the less we can get away with carrying the better, so armed with small rucksacks containing just two t-shirts, a jumper, waterproofs, combats and the food, cutlery, bowls and water bottles we’ll need, we arrive early to catch the bus that takes all the walkers to the ferry and on to the track. Once we’re on board the ferry we are amazed at the size of some of the bags the other walkers are taking, some of them are as big as the little girls carrying them. We’re hoping they are fit as we’ve felt just how much difference carrying your pack can make to you when you walk all day.

After a scenic trip across the lake, with commentary on the history of the pioneers of this trail, we have just a one and a half hour, 5km forecasted route to the first hut. After just an hour we reach our base for the night, three huts called collectively Clinton Hut with a viewing platform out over the wetlands. We’re here by early afternoon so relax and have a bite to eat before exploring back along the track a bit to view the wetlands a little closer and along the banks of the Clinton river from which the hut takes its name. We can presume that the river is good for its trout as three men dressed in stripy tights and pink fluffy deelyboppers, (it takes all sorts…), clutching flyfishing rods pass us by. By evening all the walkers have arrived at the huts and are busy settling in and making their respective dinners. We’re accosted by a small but very loud American woman who enquires if we’re Scottish and asks about how much training we’ve put in in preparation for the walk. We explain that we’ve not done much, as we only booked a couple of weeks earlier but that we’ve done the Abel Tasman walk, to which she voices first surprise that we managed to book so recently and then scoffs that the Abel Tasman isn’t a real walk and as such no real preparation.

We’re interrupted at this point by our hut warden who gives us a run down, Hitler style, of our responsibilities around the huts and then gives us an idea of what we’ll encounter on our next days walk. She suggests that if we arrive at the second hut early enough and the weather is good we should drop off our bags then press on to the top as the weather might not be as favourable the following day. This would turn a 16.5km walk into one closer to 30km and Rob and I make a pact not to follow this advice. Day 3 is supposed to be the most challenging anyway without us knackering ourselves the day before.

Off to bed and early to rise, we’re soon breakfasted, packed up and on our way. We follow the Clinton river up to its source at Lake Mintaro, the start of the Mackinnon Pass and past the Pompolona Ice fields as well as several waterfalls. We’re still blessed with uncharacteristically hot and dry weather so the waterfalls are more like trickles but the path is leafy and beautiful and we make good time, getting to Mintaro hut in 4hrs, 2hrs less than forecast. After reading the literature on the walk, I’m relieved not to have been wading waist deep though rivers and flooded pathways and this probably accounts for our good time.

Nearly two hours after we’ve arrived the little loud American (ref.LLA) arrives with her entourage and claims bunks adjacent to ours. They complain of having been kept awake all the previous night by a loud snorer and she asks how our walk has gone, pealing off her socks to reveal a large blister on her foot. I brush off the days walk as having been easier than I thought but the next day is supposed to be the hard one, she doesn’t look pleased. They start to unpack and the size of their packs is explained by the shear quantity of ready meals they have packed, they must have bought every one in the store, plus a box of wine and a dozen bars of chocolate. I like life’s comforts, but right now I’m far happier having two hours less to walk and a bag of nuts to munch on following my dinner.

That night I’m kept awake by the LLA’s husband snoring his head off and the LLA loudly whispering for him to shut up and shining her torch in my eyes as she shines it in his to wake him up… and she complained about snoring. At least she is trying to quieten him down I guess.

Day 3 and we’re up early again. The LLA complains loudly at breakfast that the Germans in our room kept her awake snoring until I silence her with a stare, can’t believe she has the nerve. The weather is on our side and its crisp blue skies as we make the final push to the monument at the top, the highest point on the walk. With fantastic panoramic views back along the valley we’ve walked and on into the next valley, we visit the “loo with a view” and carry on our way. The walk is now mostly downhill over rocky craggy ground and I’m grateful yet again for the fine dry weather as the rocks can be slippery enough when they are dry. The distance to the next hut is 14km with a forecast 5.5hrs for this leg, but we make good time and opt to take a 5km detour (fortunately without our big packs) to visit the base of the Sutherland falls, the tallest falls in NZ. The noise from the falls is incredible and we ditch our cameras in a bush to have a go at clambering behind the falls. Even metres away we are greeted by the spray and within seconds are soaked and I’m blinking blindly as the water runs down my face streaming mosi guard and sun tan lotion into my contact lenses. We carry on to the edge of the fall, our trainers now buckets of water before finally turning back. Rob has spotted several large rocks, that unlike all those around them aren’t covered in the green algae and moss which suggests they have been there some time. The likelihood that they have travelled over the falls with the water puts us off getting any closer and at least refreshed from our “dip” we return back to the track and the final hike to the hut.

Despite the detour we are still at the hut in under 6hrs, we’ve kept a steady pace all day and for the second day running we’re first to arrive at the hut for the night. Going through the ritual of rinsing and hanging out our t-shirts to dry and leaving our trainers to air we explore a little and try taking a dip in a nearby waterhole but the water is so icy cold we don’t brave it for long.

The rest of the walkers come in in dribs and drabs, some of them taking 14hrs to do the days walk and that without the detour up to the falls. We can only think their huge bags are to blame. Scotty the warden for the night at Dumpling Hut lets us know what we are in for the next day, telling us it will take as long as it has taken the day before to do the final days walk. We don’t have to be there till 2pm for the first ferry and 3:15pm for the latter one so we are comfortable that we have an easy day ahead but some of the crew are quite distressed at the prospect and plan an early start, (one group didn’t actually make it to the hut until after we had gone to bed and had left in the morning before we even got up!)

Day 4 and by the time we’ve casually got ready there only remains one other couple at the hut. As a bit of fun we decide to count the people we are passing during the day, counting back from the total on the walk, with 39 people in our group, 2 left behind and the two of us we’ve 35 walkers ahead of us at the start. The advantage that our tiny packs gives us is soon evident, by the time we’ve passed Mackay Falls, Bell rock (so named because it is shaped like a huge bell that you can climb under and inside, which I do despite my fear now of cave wetas), and get to Giants Gate (another big waterfall) we meet up with the final two of the 35. It turns out to be the husband of the LLA and her much nicer American friend. We’ve passed the LLA almost an hour back on the track and the husband and friend are discussing how she (the LLA) is jealous of said friend and now not speaking to her. I don’t think that walking off together without her will have been the best thing for improving her humour but at least it gives Rob and I something to gossip about for the last leg of our trip.

We reach the final hut at Sandfly point and as usual are tortured by the presence of the guided tour’s hut. All along the route have been alternate huts for the guided walkers, paying up to ten times what we have paid they have the luxury of proper bedlinen and food cooked for them (and probably flushing toilets and showers). This final hut appears no different, ours is bare apart from a bench running round the outside and a wood burning stove in the centre. Theirs contains padded seats as well as tea, coffee, orange juice and cookies, torture to us and Rob and I joke about how to break in, squeezing me through the ventilation duct or a window, just as a track warden arrives, which just adds to our humour (picture the window just above head height and my legs sticking out of it as he comes round the corner). The nice American lady arrives with LLA’s husband and we venture down to the end of the jetty where Rob persuades me, after much deliberation, to jump into the fiord. Crikey its freezing, but at least I’m feeling a touch cleaner and the sun is hot enough to warm me as soon as I’m back out.

We get back to the hut and the others are coming in, the couple that came and went in the night comment on seeing us awake for a change and the LLA settles down to examine her blisters and start showing off with all the food they still have to eat. She has been quizzing us all along as to whether we have been eating and now remarks on us both just wearing trainers as opposed to her big hiking boots. She can’t believe that we’ve done the whole track without all the rubbish she has been carrying (we even saw a small shovel in the rucksack of her husband on one night). Rob is wearing his Mercer t-shirt so the obligatory “oh have you done a skydive?” question comes out and she quizzes me likewise, we affirm that we have each done “a skydive” and she also delights in telling us all the extreme sports her and her husband have been up to in recent weeks, although skydiving “isn’t for her”. She works for AJ Hackett and tells us all the places we should go to do a bungy, but I’m pretty sure doing the three in Queenstown will suffice.

We get the early ferry back to Milford Sound but unfortunately as we’re booked on a later coach we can’t get the earlier one to Te Anau. Damn, nothing for it we’ll just have to hit the pub, a couple of bottles of ice cold beer and a bowl of chips, bliss. After a scenic drive back we collect our little van, shower up and head into town for a bite to eat. I’d spotted a place on our first day there and we decide, after 4 days of re-hydrated meals, to treat ourselves. The food actually doesn’t work out any more expensive than the pub up the road, but it was sooo the right decision. I opt for a Lamb Roast dinner and Rob has a Beef Wellington which is probably the best I’ve ever tasted, the Kepler Family Restaurant is definitely going down in my book for must visit places!

Te Anau

2005-01-30T08:00:00.000Z

Up bright and early we arrive at Te Anau by midday and check into a campsite the living room of which resembles more of a hunting lodge with big fireplace and comfy sofas. They agree to store our excess luggage while we do the walk along the Milford Track and even to store the campervan out back so all that remains is to orientate ourselves and collect our tickets.

Te Anau is a small town with a host of restaurants and souvenir shops most of which are quite upmarket as the town acts as the base from which many tourists visit Milford Sound, the beautiful fiords and mountains that will mark the end of our walk and an attraction for those less into the extreme sports for which Queenstown is focused. A stroll along the lake to the DOC visitors centre and we check in ready for the walk, the DOC ranger gives us a run down of all the equipment we should be taking – waterproofs, sturdy footwear, sleeping bags, plenty of food for 4 days and of course insect repellent. The place from which we’ll catch the launch at the end of the trail is called sandfly point for a reason and apparently the rest of the track isn’t much kinder.

I do my best to holdback from the temptation of the deli in town and after stuffing ourselves with pasta and packing our bags ready for the walk we retire early to bed.

Ever Southward

2005-01-29T07:59:00.000Z

We’re on a tighter schedule now and can afford just one overnight stop before getting to Te Anau which will be the starting point for our walk on the Milford Track. Passing through Queenstown naturally en route we decide not to try to squeeze in the bungy jumps I’m keen to do, we’ll do them on the return route up North, but we decide to call in and check if we need to book ahead just in case. Karahau bridge is alongside the road into town so I get my first peak at the “home” of bungy as this is the home of the first commercial bungy site in the world. As we arrive a guy makes his leap and is unceremoniously dunked up to his waist in the river, ripping his t-shirt off in the process. Hmmmm… not sure I want my t-shirt whipping off in front of a crowd of spectators. We’re assured that we can book just a day in advance so don’t book anything, leaving us a bit more flexibility for after we’ve completed the walk.

A quick browse round town and a stock up on supplies for the walk and we head back off, trying to get a little further south to make the journey the next day shorter. We’re hoping to free camp along the lake somewhere but there isn’t anywhere you can leave the road so we opt to stay at a campsite in Kingston on the southern tip of the lake. The camp kitchen is a focal point for socialising and we get into some good conversation with a few kiwis holidaying themselves from elsewhere on the South Island. There is a notable North/South divide between people living in NZ and they seem delighted that we have opted to just see the South Island, telling us we haven’t missed much by not venturing up North. As would most probably be the case for us back home, they haven’t seen half of what we have already seen of their own island and are keen for reviews so they can even plan their next trips away. Funny how we never take the chance to explore what is on our own doorstep.

Warbirds and Wanaka

2005-01-28T07:58:00.000Z

Taking our route now inland we pass by Lake Hawea, impressive not just by its clear turquoise waters, at 410m deep it is also the deepest lake in New Zealand. Held up momentarily by a huge herd of cattle moving fields along the road we arrive at Lake Wanaka late afternoon. Obviously a stop off point for all the tour buses the lake front is teeming with young backpackers sunning themselves in the heat of the day.

Rob buys a new rucksack, smaller than his normal one so he can use it on Milford track, (that makes three new bags for him, and one for me, now since we started our travels). We push off further down the lake to stop for tea but there isn’t anywhere to camp for the night so as night falls we move on again to a DOC camp ground on the edge of town, spying an albino peacock on the way. We’ve not the correct change for the unmanned site so have the pleasure of a knock on the van at 6am next morning from the park warden, great. I think I’m crafty getting a cold wash at the sink in the disabled loo (they don’t have showers at DOC sites and all other sinks are outside), but Rob manages to wing a hot shower from the guy who is camping in an big bus next to us and has loads of hot water left over after his own shower, damn.

As we’re awake we head over to the ‘dropzone’ at Lake Wanaka. I put dropzone in apostrophes as it is really a tandem club that operates out of the airport there. There is no sign of anyone though so we pop into the warbirds museum next door, which is full off old world war memorabilia and planes. They even have a stand for a squadron that was stationed briefly at our home dropzone, back in the UK, before WWII. Rob notices a couple of people gathered outside the tandem office so we loiter about until the staff appear and we’re in luck, they will try to get us on a lift with some of the tandems. The guys are all friendly enough but the operation is definitely a tandem factory not a sports club and although the views are pretty stunning after being spoilt at Fox we are happy enough just to do the one jump and get on our way.

Glaciers and Hospitality

2005-01-27T07:57:00.000Z

Heading off early in the morning towards the glaciers the weather is still overcast and the cloud base low. We pass through Frans Josef and arrive in Fox Glacier which is buzzing with people all unable to access the glaciers and mountains due to the weather. We find the dropzone, happily surprised to see a familiar face working there. Mike, an Ozzy that we both first met skydiving over in Jersey, is working there as a tandem instructor. He introduces us to everyone, giving Rob the big sell as a top freeflier so Rod, the boss there warms to us immediately.

Next day we manage to get a jump in in the morning before it becomes too cloudy to jump. The views are spectacular even with some cloud, its quite alarming to see your altimeter reading 12000ft yet the ground is right below you as we get taken round the tops of Mount Cook and Mount Tasman. With the weather not improving we go back to Frans Josef for a look around. We check out the cost of doing Glacier walks, then one of the guys at the dropzone has said it is cheaper in Fox and when we return there we find that it’s about two-thirds the cost. Rob has walked on Frans Josef before so we stop briefly en route to walk to the base of Frans Josef then book to do fox the next day.

Settling at the campsite the sky begins to clear and Rob spots the jump plane taking off so we head back to the dropzone. I’ve a headache so opt not to jump and by the time Rob is in the air the clouds have cleared completely and he gets a terrific view, right from the mountain tops down past the glacier itself. I’m kicking myself a bit but Ron suggests we nip in in the morning before doing the glacier walk as jumping starts at 7:30am… eek.

We’re back at the DZ for 7:15am but there is only going to be room for one of us before the walk due to the back log of tandems from the bad weather days. Rob generously lets me take the slot and I’m blessed with the most glorious views. Rod also insists that I follow out the tandem so I swoop down and dock on Mike after a little hesitation leaving the plane. I’m beaming as I’ve been putting off following out a tandem for probably a year so it’s a great hurdle to get over. Rob has to meet me at the landing site as we’ve only 15mins before we have to register for the walk, he’s bought a packed lunch and we’re soon kitted up with walking boots and crampons for the walk.

The walking boots must be the most knackered boots I’ve ever encountered, my soles are actually screwed on over the original worn out ones and the sides have big gaping holes in them. Rob’s are no better, there isn’t an alternative though so they will have to do. Our guide for the day is a german guy Martin, a slim sinewy guy, passionate about mountaineering and with a good sense of humour. His knowledge of the glacier is good, his purpose to guide us up the glacier, creating steps with his pick axe as he goes. We soon learn that he is as passionate about using his pick axe as he is about mountaineering as barely a moment passes without him swinging it wildly about showering us all in shards of ice. I’m not sure what was the more dangerous, making sure you didn’t slip down the glacial ice or trying to avoid the pick axe and associated ice shower, I’m inclined to think the latter.

We make it up and down the glacier unscathed, if a little sunburnt as the weather has been crystal clear all day. We get back to the dropzone and both manage to get on another lift, albeit apart. I follow Rod out this time and dock on him, Rob takes him out for a freefly jump headdown and he is buzzing when they both land. We’re invited down the pub with the rest of the crowd, as well as Rod aka Sarge there is Chris (Silver Fox), Rod (monster), Trev ( a British lad adopted by Rod and getting enough jumps in to be able to go for his tandem rating) and Glenn who is quite quiet at first but by now has opened up a bit regaling us with tales of sharks he has caught, deer he has hunted and snakes in the loft… handy bloke to have around.

A quick shower and supper of noodles and we’re down the pub, thanks to Chris we get “locals prices” which are less than half what we paid when we first got there. We’re entertained by Karaoke including Trev’s little girl but thankfully we manage to escape without having to embarrass ourselves that much. The plane is off for a service early next morning so there won’t be any jumping but Rod says if we’re up at 6:30am we can get a free lob as it leaves.

Early next morning then we wake to a knock on the van from Rod and I leave Rob to go jump with him, justifying that they will have more fun doing a two way without me (although secretly after the beer last night I’m after a bit more sleep!). When I finally stir Rob is tucking into breakfast cooked by Rod and I get treated to the same too. Free jumps and free cooked breakfast, we feel sad having to leave as we’ve been made so welcome, but with promises to return the favour some day we bid our goodbyes again and are back on the road.

West Coast

2005-01-24T07:54:00.000Z

Our arrival at the west coast is grey murky and damp but it doesn’t detract from the dramatic coastline, the sea seeming all the more powerful with the stormy weather. After having a car driving up our bums for a while Rob pulls over to let it pass only for it to be pulled over by a police car a few yards further down the road. Rob thinks this is hilarious and I’m inclined to agree that is serves him right.

Travelling down from Westport via Greymouth we settle for the night at *, earmarked in all the tourist guides as the place to make your own jade carving. They obviously have an artistic community as a trip to the beach reveals a driftwood sculpture competition/exhibition. Some of the pieces are quite ingenious and we marvel at just how far afield they must have gone to collect all the driftwood. However when we take a walk on the beach adjacent to the campsite we’re astounded at the shear quantity of driftwood all the way up the beach, I guess another sign of just how tempestuous the seas are around here.

Abel Tasman

2005-01-23T07:53:00.000Z

Leaving the van in the car park of the water taxi, we hand over our rucksacks and climb onto the boat, to be driven via tractor down into the sea where we float free and set off up the coast of the Abel Tasman National park. The driver of the boat informs us of the history of the coastline and its discovery by the likes of Abel Tasman, even taking us to specific points of interest, including a seal colony happily lying on the rocks of one of the islands. Dropped at the top of the park at Totaranui, we collect our rucksacks, paddle to the shore, don our trainers and set off on our way. We’ve been given a relatively tight schedule by the guide at the booking office, as we’ve a couple of points on the trail that can only be passed at low tide. Passing through the sea still at Awaroa, we hike across beaches, through forest and up and down hills and pass the second low tide point by 2:30pm so allow ourselves a break for lunch. We’ve been hiking quite fast for 3.5hrs and we welcome the break, especially as we get to sit and chill on beach at Onetahuti bay, golden sands and bright blue sea as far as the eye can sea. Setting off stuffed with sardines, bread and biscuits the going seems tougher, my knees don’t like the downhill sections and my back is aching so much I’m starting to wonder if there is something seriously wrong with it.

We arrive at Bark Hut, our first night’s stay to much relief, leave our stuff marking two mattresses on one of the four bunks that each sleep seven people and head down to the beach for a quick dip and a lounge before dinner. Rehydrated food and some lovely dried fruit and nuts from one of the other walkers and we’re turning in for the night. Its noticeable just how long the days are here, at 10pm its still bright light, but we manage to get to sleep anyway. Halfway through the night and we’re disturbed by three girls in the same bunk as us. Rather naively the three have “packed light”, seemingly just packing cotton bag liners to sleep in and no more than t-shirts and shorts by way of clothing. They are freezing and discussing their predicament in what can only be described as stage whispers, this carries on for over an hour and even I’m tempted to offer them some extra clothes just to quieten them (in the morning I discover Rob was lying there thinking the same thoughts). Other than that we have a good nights sleep and waken early ready for the next days walk.

Rehydrated scrambled egg celebrates in Rob’s birthday and he opens his cards before we set off (this is on record as Rob’s quietest birthday since “coming of age”). I put my backpack on and immediately affected by the same crippling pain in the back as the day before. I take the pack off in case I can adjust it to make it more comfortable but I’ve only got soft stuff packed in the back so I don’t know what I’ll be able to move. Incredibly I find three sets of keys in an inside pocket that has been digging me squarely in the back for the whole of the previous day, doh! Much more comfortable we set off at a more leisurely pace than the day before. We’ve a shorter walk to do today, just 9.5km so we get there by early afternoon and lounge happily on the beach. Receiving a burnt bum (my usual tan sees me with a white shorts line so my bum is a bit more sensitive to the sun in my bikini), we cook tea. Starting with some mussels that we’ve picked on the beach, we unfortunately then overcook them and have to throw them away. Never mind, some noodles, more rehydrated food and a tiny bottle of wine is the posh birthday dinner.

After tea we return to the beach as Rob remembers a cave with glow worms in it from his previous visit three years earlier. The tide is on its way out so we roll up the combats and wade through the shallow waters to the collection of caves. The first couple are disappointing and the third is blocked with a large branch so I leave Rob to scramble over and explore on his own. Seconds later he is calling excitedly for me to join him so I scramble over the branch too and squeeze through a short passage into a small cave which seems to go up vertically for several metres. Sure enough the tiny flecks of green that signify glow worms are clearly visible, but Rob assures me that the best is yet to come. By the light of a tiny keyring torch Rob illuminates the cave wall above the entrance I’ve just squeezed through. The wall is covered in something I later learn is a cave weta, it looks like a 3 inch cross between a grasshopper and a prawn with big long feelers twitching away, there must be thousands of them. I’m out of the cave and back on the beach before Rob can even draw breath, my skin crawling, much to Rob’s amusement.

What should be a sound nights sleep after the days walk is destroyed by the presence of another monster snorer ensconced in a mosi-net that surrounds him and five others so we have no means of waking him. With sandflies and mosquitoes rife outside we can’t even escape outside, after a couple of hours we finally manage to nod off.

The final day of the walk involves an 11.5km walk which we manage to complete in 2.5hours as the incentive of a shower and some proper food entices us on. We drive via a supermarket back to Motueka and pay for a good camp site. Bellies full of bangers and mash and a nice hot shower and we’re feeling human again.

With the manifest shuffled round again on the Saturday we manage a couple more jumps before high winds again ground skydiving for the afternoon so we bid our farewells and push on with our trip, heading across towards the west coast and the town of Westport. Taking in the somewhat hilarious view of a man cycling with his shorts hitched right up his bum we are some miles out of Motoeka before we realise we’re running low on fuel. Spying an old service station we decide to pull in for the night to wait for it to open in the morning. We’re greeted by a Staffordshire bull terrier who somewhat nervously assesses us before deciding we’re harmless enough and befriends us instead of attacking us. She is soon joined by an older dog and two gambol about happily alternating between ragging each other and trying to beg our food of us with big puppy dog eyes. The local pub has a rowdy race night on and we’re a little worried that we’re going to get some grief from the local drunken yokels but fortunately we get no bother. The younger dog decided to guard our van as I discover in the middle of the night when I return from the toilet and startle it. I hadn’t seen it as I’m not wearing my contact lenses and I’m not sure who took the bigger fright but fortunately it recognises my voice and the growl turns to a wag of the tail, thank goodness I shared my tea with it earlier!

On the road again...

2005-01-18T07:52:00.000Z

We’d already decided before coming across that with just a month to spend in NZ we would stick to the south island and enjoy where we travelled rather than zooming from place to place without really stopping and trying to cover both Islands. That means we’ll miss out on some exceptional sights in the North to be sure but it’s a sacrifice worth making, we feel, to enjoy the relaxed pace of life for which the kiwis are famed.

The first day we head up the East coast and see for the first time (at least for me) the dramatic coastline. We opt to camp on the beach a short distance before the town and idle away a few hours exploring rockpools and then building a campfire, or rather we take in turns collecting firewood then Rob does his “man make fire” bit and makes the fire. We’re struggling to get sufficient firewood to keep the fire going and I widen the search a bit then get a bit over ambitious and attempt to haul an entire tree back along the beach. It has the desired affect though and the fire keeps us going until we turn in for bed.

A glorious sunrise greets us in the morning and we call briefly into the Kaikora for breakfast before heading on further up the coast. Alongside the road we spot signs for skydiving so we drop in to enquire on the chances of a fun jump and we’re told its unlikely as the operation is really only for tandems. We’re warned that this is likely to be the story at most DZs in NZ but they suggest we try Abel Tasman as they apparently are most geared up for it. We call into Nelson to book our places on the Abel Tasman track (we’re determined to get fit and enjoy the out of doors over here even though my heels are still feeling a little bit bruised from my landing a couple of weeks ago). Yet again the track accommodation is almost fully booked and we have only one option available if we aren’t to camp. We toy briefly with the idea of hiring camping gear but I don’t relish the prospect of carrying that as well as our food and clothing for 3 days over the 40km of hilly track so we opt again for the huts and we’re booked in for two days time.

After a somewhat appalling Guinness pie (dried out completely) we buy the dried food we think we’ll need for the track (dried potato, vegetables, noodles, soup etc. etc.) and carry on through to Motoeka. By now the skies have clouded over but we call into the DZ anyway just to show our faces. James, a British lad that we jumped with at the Equinox boogie, is actually working manifest and the owner was at the boogie too so we’re told to come back the next day and assured of a jump. We set up camp again by the beach and the sky clears as evening approaches giving us fresh hope for the morning.

Clear blue skies greet us when we wake and Rob springs out of bed, almost driving me down there while I’m still in bed, he allows me the dignity of at least dressing but not getting breakfast before we’re back at the club. As promised the guys juggle manifest and we’re fitted on a lift with the tandems and given the pleasure of some stunning views out up the coast as we ride up to altitude. A couple of jumps later things quieten down for a bit as the wind picks up too much to jump and we sit and have a good chat to the owner about the NZ skydive scene and of course the Nox boogie. He advises that we try the DZ down in Fox Glacier as he is mates with the owner and says he is a mad keen fun-jumper too and was also at the Nox so we might be in with a chance. He offers for us to store our gear at the DZ while we do the Abel Tasman track which gives us some peace of mind at least so we store all of our stuff away and then push off up to Marahau where we’ll get a water taxi from early next morning to start the walk.

Initial campsites in Marahau are fully booked but we call in at Old McDonald’s Farm (no kidding) and we secure a site. The sight of three pot bellied pigs scurrying into the hedge as we go back to the van delights me and after dropping the camper off at our plot we have a further explore and discover Llamas, sheep, more pigs, chickens, peacocks and the like in various fields round the site and a very cute Jack Russell scampering round like he owns the place. Apart from some cheeky people who decide to pull up on our plot in their car late at night to sleep (to which I was too cowardly to ask them to leave but I made several loud comments to let them know what I thought of them freeloading, (weak I know, but they left really early so it may have had some effect)) the site was a good spot and we awoke next day and packed all our gear early ready for our first “expedition”.

Christchurch

2005-01-15T07:50:00.000Z

Travelling Virgin Blue, i.e. cheap as chips airline, we have a short four hour flight before arriving in NZ. We didn’t realise that four hours could be quite so tortuous however. As meals and drinks aren’t complimentary on the flight, the attendants started our journey by touting those. This was followed shortly afterwards by duty free and souvenirs of the flight. Up next, as a celebration of an anniversary of Virgin, we were subjected to a toilet roll race down either side of the plane. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the staff then grabbed “volunteers” (under much duress) to stand up and join them in demonstrating some in-flight aerobic exercises which we were all encouraged to join in with. Without respite the staff then went back to touting food/drink/souvenirs etc. I could pity the staff as for the entire flight they probably only shut up for about 30minutes in total (never more than 10minutes in one stretch), in the circumstances however, I pitied the passengers more, us included, some peace and quiet wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Arriving late evening kiwi time we grab a shuttle bus to the hostel (witnessing our first kiwi possum crossing the road in the city centre), check in, dump our bags and head downstairs to the bar for a well earned pint. It’s past midnight in local time but to us feels around 9pm so imagine our disappointment when we find we’ve missed last orders. Fortunately there is a bar down the street that operates a late license so we push on down there. Loud music and dim lighting greets us, but the beer isn’t bad and there is some quality people-watching to be had which suits us just fine and we manage to unwind before heading back to the hostel.

Our room at the hostel was possibly the broom cupboard in a previous life, but the rest of the hostel is well equipped with internet facilities, a lounge full of comfy sofas and permanently running sky movie channel, a big decked patio area and a good kitchen which hosts, much to Rob’s delight, a freebie box where previous lodgers can leave any food they don’t want to take with them. Rob manages to hoist several packs of noodles, some porridge and a jar of vegemite, then upstairs discovers a box of wine that has hardly been touched, dinner is served!

Just a block away from the very centre of the city we head to the information centre to gather information on the cost of hostels, car hire, camping, buses etc.. We then retire to the Irish pub for a pint and some rather scrummy nosh to wade through it all and weigh up the different options. (Did I mention that the weather turned hot and sunny just today, so yet again we are blessed with fantastic weather, which of course in turn gives one a bit of a thirst…) After deciding a camper might again be a good option we return to the hostel to delve deeper into the information. Deciding a further day is required to make the best decision we book another night and relax with the free wine in front of the movies. Early in the morning we head to a local café for breakfast and are faced with the most enormous portions imaginable. My scrambled eggs have the consistency of yoghurt and a none to pleasant flavour so I just about manage the rest of my food but Rob ends up with a doggy box of pretty much half his plate which he whisks back to the hostel for later. (You can’t help but question why they don’t just do normal portions to start off with?)

Another tour of the city, the purchasing of the prerequisite bone art necklaces and some outdoor gear from one of the many outdoor shops about, we return to the hostel to book our “micro-camper” for a month. The micro-camper is actually an estate car with a mattress in the back and an awning that fits over the boot to give a small area you can stand up in. It appears the only affordable option as the other campers that are advertised at bargain prices are only available at such during their winter months of May to September (any other time and they can cost as much as four times the price). With the freedom this allows us we make a booking for the Milford Track, reportedly one of THE walks to do in NZ. It appears so, as we are offered the 30th to commence the track as the only available date until April, (we later discover that we must have got a cancellation as the whole track was booked out until April last September). The track must be walked over 4 days and everyone has to walk in the same direction with only 40 independent walkers allowed on the track a day both to preserve the experience, the track and also because that is all the available accommodation can support, camping isn’t allowed due to the high level of rain that falls in the area (the other name for the second half of the track is the valley of waterfalls). I digress, (just for a change), lets just say we were lucky to get our places anyway.

Next day we’re up to pick up the camper and we’re offered a campervan, not unlike our one in Oz, for an extra $200 for the month. This was supposed to be an extra $1000 so we take 10seconds to decide then grab the chance and get back to the hostel for the bags with just 15minutes to spare before we have to check out.

New Year and Nationals

2005-01-11T01:23:00.000Z

The week before new year sees Rob back in the air and with people egging us on we decide to have a go at trying some freestyle in readiness to enter a fun team at the Nationals. With all the talk there could be up to 5 teams in the category, one serious and then the rest of us trying it for more or less the first time. I get out my book on freestyle and start trying out the moves and thinking out a routine. I’m even trying moves out in the pool in the morning. Naomi, the girl from the serious team arrives and gives me some top tips, first of all get rid of the baggy suit and big trainers if I can. I hop off into town and manage to buy leggings and tiny plimsolls for less than $20 in total and I’m equipped. Lots of pointing toes and smiling and I should be there.

New Years eve sees the girls back up as the party they thought was going to be happening in Sydney seems a bit flat, even Laura is back up with a gang from Melbourne so it just seems like old times. A few glasses of wine and some beers later and we’re celebrating in the new year as some people do a midnight jump in. Memories are a little hazy after that, although I seem to have collected quite an array of hats, remember wearing the big sunglasses and have a very faint recollection of running round the accuracy pit with a flare and not a lot else on, my only saving grace was that I couldn’t get the flare lit so I wasn’t that illuminated… I’m not going to struggle to regain that memory…

New Years day sees me nursing a headache from hell (which I of course blame on the red wine and not the cocktail of stuff I’d glugged down) and I avoid all daylight rising only to visit the bathroom and drink some squash.

The second is the first day of the Nationals, the practice day, time to register and for the draw to be done. We duly register as “Chocolate Monkey” and by the time registration has closed we discover there is only us and Naomi’s team in it so we’re guaranteed a medal, cool! The draw is carried out at getting on for 10pm and we’re a bit taken aback to discover the moves we’ve been practising are a little out of date (like by ten years) and what we now have to do is a lot more complicated. Treble somersaults with turns thrown in followed by cartwheels with a twist, back loops and front loops and pirouettes… the list is scarily long. Undeterred we’re in for the long haul and Naomi kindly sorts us out with a breakdown of all the moves and her cameraman Luke gets us a copy of the rules, looks like we’ve some serious swotting to do but tonight isn’t the time and I’m off to sleep to dream of it all.

The competition progresses with us scoring consistently lower than Naomi and Luke (no surprise there especially after I see her go spinning out of the plane), but at least we’re scoring something. My new shoes are causing me some grief as they now appear to be a little too short so my feet are effectively bowed inside them and that coupled with “dropping” onto my feet on landing leaves me with bruised heels and a swollen ankle. I rest it and we’re lucky that our next round isn’t until the next day so by strapping it up and returning to my oversize trainers (how good does that look with leggings?!) I complete the comp.. The artistic events are over by Tuesday and we’re awarded our medals. They are huge and we’re well chuffed, okay so there was only 2 teams but at least we gave it our best effort and I’m keen tokeep on doing it. Rob is invited onto a 10-way speed team and Shaz, who couldn’t keep staying away, returns and gets on the team too. I joked about feeling left out but with my feet I’d not have risked jumping anyway. With the other FS events complete by Wednesday the 10-way speed is played out on Thursday which is my birthday (its been a birthday week with Cassie on the Tuesday and Claire on the Wednesday.) Rob treats me to breakfast and then a full body massage from Cecelia mid morning. It’s a full deep tissue massage so it could be quite uncomfortable at times but it felt so good afterwards. Rob and Shaz came in with another silver so Rob collected his second gong that night and the other team members had also won medals in the 4-way and 8-way events so there was much celebrating to be had.

First though Rob whisked me into town for a private meal, which wasn’t as good as we’d hoped but it was great just to get off the DZ for a bit. When I got back I was greeted with a birthday cake with candles, a t-shirt and a card full of well wishes from everyone at the club. The party ran on all night, but after New Year I’d learnt my lesson and enjoyed watching everyone else get trollied instead. I called it a night at 1:30am but some were still up by the pool at 11am, good party!

After a day of rest for everyone a few more days of fun jumping at the club were marred slightly by one of the guys having a hard landing, which fortunately he is now on the road to recovery from, although it looked very bleak initially. Following the Nationals everyone returned to their home DZs or back to work and the place quietened down again. Rob and I got a few more jumps in then gave the van an overhaul and repacked our bags ready for our trip to New Zealand.

Howard had kindly offered to let us stay at his apartment the night before our flight in Brisbane and cheeky as we are he also then agreed to look after the camper and our excess luggage while we were away too. By slight recompense we went out for the evening in Brisi, his girlfriend Claire was unfortunately already booked at the theatre but the three of us enjoyed some Sushi followed by a couple of beers and some good live jazz in a local bar anyway. Claire recommended a good hairdresser in town and Howard rang to book me in while we were out so the next day I was able to get my haircut for the first time in over 7 months and we were all set for our trip to kiwiland.

Jingle Bells...

2004-12-25T01:22:00.000Z

So here we are, back at the dropzone the week before Christmas as planned. It’s a bit quiet as Shaz has gone to Sydney and the girls are away heading for Melbourne for Christmas, but this suits us as Rob is still suffering, he tries jumping but after one jump admits defeat and grounds himself so that, and the fact he isn’t eating, convinces me he must be ill. Now officially nicknamed the black lung he rests pitifully upstairs while I run back and forth into town to buy him various cough medicines and complete my preparations for Christmas. By the Friday we manage to get him into the doctors and with the help of some antibiotics and the temptation of more muffins (the only thing he can stomach) he appears to be past the worst just in time for Christmas. I’m on top fitness mode by now, running and swimming 2 out of 3 days, the early mornings aren’t easy but at least with Rob being ill we are having early nights too so I’m feeling relatively healthy and fit.

I battle with a turkey quarter (I broke a wooden spoon trying to prise it out of the freezer then fight to debone it once defrosted,) finally liberating enough meat for two I admit defeat and bin the rest. On two rings I do the best I can to approximate a Christmas dinner on Christmas eve, and it is actually quite edible, Rob even manages to eat most of it, his first proper meal in over a week.

Christmas day dawns bright, sunny and hot as ever, I manage an early morning dip in the pool to afford Rob a bit more of a lie in and then we sit and watch the Christmas lift fun jump land. Everyone is now under orders to be ready in an hour and surprisingly they are (might be the thought of missing out on the beer that keeps them in check…) We now juggle around with the 3 vehicles to get 20 people and all their food and booze on board then we are off to Wivenhoe dam for our Christmas picnic. The weather has clouded over slightly so the heat becomes bearable and we give a hand to carry all the picnic stuff down to a spot by the lake. There is enough food here to feed about 40 and unfortunately it is right under my nose so I’m picking on it all day, super scrummy though. Rob and I are sporting the enormous sunglasses that he has bought us for Christmas and mine quickly get adopted by Belgie who refuses to take them off all day. A few glasses of bubbly and a couple of bottles of beer later and we’re into the party games. An introduction into “pigs” and then a demonstration from Nicole on how to tie a cherry stalk into a knot with your tongue has everyone literally tongue-tied for ages.

Before we know it the sun is going down and we set off back to the DZ with the designated drivers taking control (Rob being on antibiotics does have its advantages!) Back at the DZ a crowd is there waiting with many people turning up after doing the “family thing” earlier in the day. The leftovers from the buffet come out and then Macca throws on a sausage sizzle… I’m stuffed! Not the most conventional Christmas day but a good one.

Caves and Turtles

2004-12-17T01:21:00.000Z

We’re heading for Bundaberg famed for its rum, ginger beer and, what’s attracting me there, turtles, but its too far for us to go in one day without a monster drive so we opt for a stop near Rockhampton at the Capricorn Caves. A natural cave formation that exists largely above ground we arrive just 5 minutes too late to hop on a tour, so we book ourselves on one for nine the next morning and relax up at the camp site where kangaroos are hopping happily about and tree frogs and cane toads peer out at you from all the drains. Even a shrub turkey pays us a visit while we’re having tea hoping for some leftovers.

I rise early next morning and go out for a run, much to the amazement of the kangaroos who view me with a very startled expression as I puff on by. Rob is feeling even rougher today, he thinks the old woman from the café the other day may be a witch who has cursed him, either that or he is coming down with the “black lung” (ref. Zoolander!). Fortunately the cave walk is really gentle and we get to take it all in, including a couple of swooping bats within a couple of hours and are back on the road.

Bundaberg is host to one of the favoured breeding sites of three types of turtle, most predominantly the loggerhead. This time of year is their breeding cycle so the huge females who are 30plus years of age haul themselves up onto the beach to lay their eggs. As they only do this once every 4 years we feel privileged to have the opportunity to witness it and we’re lucky enough to get places on the tours which are run by the conservation teams in an effort to restrict the number of people onto the beach at this important time. We have to wait for nightfall then we’re ushered into a mini stadium where the process of observing the turtles is explained. We’re to go out in 3 groups (at 60-70 people this seems inordinately large), keep our torches off and not to make a sound. They have teams of 2-3 people out on the beach patrolling it in search of the turtles, when they spot a turtle they wait until it is right up the beach and digging it’s nest before they radio in and we go out to witness it laying its eggs. Apparently by that stage the mother is unlikely to be put off by a huge crowd of people watching and if we approach from behind we can shine our torches and it won’t be put off… all seems a bit unlikely but we patiently wait our turn and around 9:30pm we get the call to say our turtle is up the beach. We’re shown along by a screechy voiced guide who makes us halt as she mistakes a pile of rocks for a turtle coming out of the sea (she works here, surely the pile of rocks is in the same place every night?) If her voice didn’t alert the turtle to danger, then the flash lights of people’s cameras probably did. The poor turtle takes flight back to the safety of the sea with everyone crowding and straining to take a look, to add to its ordeal the rangers have grabbed it and are manhandling it to take measurements off it for their records. You could be forgiven for thinking that the poor thing is crying as it looks around and struggles to break free in obvious distress. Finally it is released and drags itself back down the beach to the sea where it will swim around for another couple of days before plucking the courage up to try again.

The guide cheerfully says that the turtle was probably put off by some stones where it was trying to make a nest and ushers us back to the centre to wait for another poor turtle to haul itself out of the water to lay its eggs. Rob and I are disgusted and feel terribly guilty to have been any part of the whole debacle, we leave a note in the guestbook to that affect then depart back to the campsite much upset by the whole experience.

The following morning Rob’s illness is still progressing but we’re thankfully nearing “home”, just one more night away which we’ll spend on the sunshine coast. We cruise down the coast from Noosa looking for a prospective place to stay for the night and settle on Coolum, a surfers paradise with great beaches and surf, plus a string of shops for me to finish my Christmas shopping while rob relaxes on the beach. Off his food now completely he stays in the van in the evening while I fix myself something up and he puts up with the banter from the next caravanners telling him off for leaving me to do all the work. They are that bad he won’t even let me do the dishes for fear he might get accosted. That night we are given the pleasure of hearing the local carol concert, at least it might have been a pleasure if it hadn’t gone on all night, by which I mean at 1am we were rewarded with an almighty firework display and then a DJ took over the stage and played cheesy pop until 4 or 5am, all at full volume. Just what you need when you’re trying to sleep. This wasn’t at the campsite by the way, it was at the next park, it was just played so loud it my as well have been on the next plot to us. You could hear cries of dismay coming from all over the camp each time he played yet another record…

Refreshed by a rather small drink from the juice bar and a muffin from Mc D’s we head off and are back at the dropzone by afternoon, to a big sigh of relief from Rob and a warm welcome from Macca and Suzie.

Eco Camp

2004-12-14T01:20:00.000Z

Our next port of call is set to be the Eungela National Park. I’m in search of a duck billed platypus and this is apparently the place to see them. Only about half a days drive from Bowen we get to the park early afternoon and happen upon a campsite called the Platypus Camp, ideal. The camp is the home of an aging hippy and a fantastic prospect it seems. We set up camp and have a wander past the toilets set in the woods and the showers which despite there being no elec or gas in the woods boast hot water thanks to a wood-burning stove. Further down we get to a swimming hole in the river and a selection of inner tubes to float around in, so we take a dip and leisurely float in the river, a welcome release from the heat of the sun we can also observe the fish swimming under us and the dragonflies skimming the water above. It all seems quite perfect.

With plenty of time still left in the day we have time for a stroll up to the waterfalls with several more swimming holes. I was under the illusion that we were just popping to a platypus swimming hole so was wearing my flipflops, aka thongs, rather than more substantial footwear and they actually prove adequate for the 7km round trip as the track despite containing over 400 steps is reasonably well made. The swimming holes prove well worth the trek too, the waters being crystal clear and incredibly deep. Rob even spots a huge eel sliding down into one of the lower rock pools.

Back at the camp we’ve been told that the best time to see the platypus is dusk or dawn so we prepare tea then seal it off while we go to the platypus pool to watch and wait. Over an hour later it is now pitch black and apart from some fireflies flying by we’ve seen nothing. We return to camp to finish making tea, the level of insect life is extreme. We’re constantly being buzzed by bugs over an inch in size and there are mosquitoes everywhere too. I stay out long enough for a possum to come and sit on our eski in search of food then I retreat back into the van to eat my tea in relative peace. That night it is hot and humid in the van but there is no reprieve, the level of insect life outside prevents us opening the door and with no power we can’t even run the fan.

By morning I admit to myself that I’m not an eco warrior and we shift camp to the DOC camp back in the main park. On the way we have to drive the poor van up an incredibly steep hill and I’m not sure it will make it, but it does and near the top we stop for a coffee at a café run by a rather eccentric old lady. We’re still at the park by lunchtime, so after following the advice of some rather noisy yanks we make our way to a small lake and stand silently in the woods watching for the elusive platypus again. At first we just see a couple of turtles rising and I’m starting to think that the Americans have been mistaken but then sure enough we see a platypus. Much smaller than I’d expected, but definitely a platypus, it even stops to give its head a scratch before dipping back down into the water. After seeing several more, we’re being bitten quite badly by mosi’s again and we beat a retreat back to the campsite. Rob is feeling a little off colour so opts for a lie down and I think to put up the huge mosi net that I’d bought before going to fraser. Its perfect, does just the job, why didn’t we think of that last night? Rob is dozing with the doors open, but again with no power it’s still pretty hot. Satisfied that we’ve seen the platypus, the sole reason we were staying in the park, we head back down the hill to the tiny township we passed through on the way to the park.

Our luck is in, there is a campsite and we wallow in the swimming pool and the spa, then shower and head to the pub for tea, laughing at the poor suckers left up at the camps with all the mosi’s and the heat. Still not feeling 100% Rob doesn’t even finish his “sheep shearer’s/ozzy stew” so we call it a night and relax under the pleasant breeze of the fan back in the van.

Back Down Southwards

2004-12-12T01:19:00.000Z

Townsville is about as far as we’re going North and we have a whole rack of things we want to do on the way back to Toogoolawah so the following day we head back down the coast.

Looking for a place to stay for our next night we take a chance on a town called Bowen. With nothing much in its favour in the description in the lonely planet guide we’re pleasantly surprised to find a pretty campsite right by the harbour and we set about exploring the sea front. The tide has gone out quite a way and the beach stretches round from the harbour as far as the eye can see. As we get closer the sand appears to be moving. The sand is covered in thousands of tiny crabs which scuttle frantically away as we approach. There are so many of them that you can actually hear them scrabbling along the beach then burying themselves in the sand. They don’t look like your normal sort of crab either, really round with markings on the body that make it look like the head of something much larger, almost alien like. Further down the beach we spy starfish, dozens and dozens of them and if you look carefully you can see them moving along too. Really fascinating. Its getting late so we about turn and resolve to continue our explorations the next day.

Up early again for our run, we notice the colours still present on the sea from the sunrise and resolve to get up and watch the sunrise the next day (at 4am approx., yikes). Exploring the town by car we find not only a good selection of small town shops but also a fantastic array of golden beaches and turquoise seas with hardly a soul on any of them. Rob is delighted at a sign on one of them warning of crocodiles and sets off in search of one, I take the safer option and do a bit of beachcombing. With a lovely chilled day and the purchase of some huge prawns and sausages from the local fishmonger and butcher we relax on the beachfront at one of their bbqs before returning to the camp to turn in.

A brilliant sunrise greets us in the morning, we’ve walked down to the tip of the harbour to watch it and as we walk back towards camp we’re rewarded as the sun continues to send the sky different shades of crimson, orange and gold which is reflected beautifully on the water, with the silhouetted masts of the boats forming a perfect contrast. We don’t unfortunately see any dugong for which the area is famed but we’re happy enough with the sunrise and crawl back into the camper to grab a couple more hours sleep.

Why Townsville?

2004-12-10T01:17:00.000Z

Next day we set off for Townsville and arrive in the rain, to a rather grey looking place with some rather run down looking shops and not a lot else. We pay through the nose to look round Reef HQ, the largest artificial reef in the world supposedly, we fortunately arrive just as a tour has started so get to see the fish being fed and get up close to sharks and turtles and even see the box jellyfish. Next day we’re greeted by brighter weather and the early morning exercise routine we started in Airlie of running for 20minutes continues (I try to convince myself I’m not dying despite feeling close to it at points, how unfit am I?). Early morning is 6:30am as any later and it is just too hot to run. Townsville doesn’t look much better in the sun, we visit a large out of town mall, (where a shop assistant asks about our travels and then asks “but why Townsville?”), then go back into town and book a trip for the following day out to the reef. I’ve decided not to do a dive course as I’d rather just spend the time snorkelling and exploring. We park up by the beach after seeing someone packing a parachute (they do tandems onto the beach here) and wander to the Irish pub for a Kilkenny and a Guiness. On the way back, who do we see “cooking a few shrimp on the Barbi”? Andy! He is just making tea before heading for the bus again to go further up North. These bbqs are a fantastic idea, the local councils provide them near nearly all the beaches so you can just bring along your food and cook it free of charge wherever you like.

Next day we head out on to the Great Barrier Reef, we’re fitted out with snorkels and fins again, but as stingers don’t get out this far we don’t need the suits. I’m sure one poor girl wished she was wearing one in the afternoon as a close encounter with a bluebottle, (that’s a Portuguese man-of-war to you and me), left her with burns all over her back and arms. I think I’d have been terrified that it was a box jellyfish and I was going to die.

Within minutes of being in the water a reef shark cruises on by, a definite highlight, but after being spoilt out on the whitsundays I’m a little disappointed after that. After lunch we go out in a semi-submersible, which was fairly farcical as you couldn’t see a thing. Back on the boat I persuaded a reluctant Rob to go back in for another snorkel and we almost immediately spot an enormous crayfish, followed then by a giant clam. Then Rob spots a shoal of cuttlefish or squid, when we swim towards them they change colour. The only thing I’ve not seen that I really wanted to was a turtle. Just as we are rounding back to the boat there it is right in front of me so I paddle off frantically after it getting faster and faster as it in turn gets faster to get away from me. As soon as I relax and slow down it slows right down too and we’re able to cruise along with it for a while before turning back in towards the boat just as they summon us all back onboard. Magic. I’m grinning like an idiot and have had a fantastic time.

Airlie Beach and the Whitsundays

2004-12-07T01:16:00.000Z

Airlie Beach is a backpackers mecca, owing chiefly to its vicinity to the glorious Whitsunday Islands. We spend a day orientating ourselves before booking ourselves on one of the sailing trips around the islands. 3days and 2nights are to be spent “live aboard” on the Derwent Hunter, a great big traditional sailing ship whose timber decks attracted my eye in the glossy brochure. As we lounged by the artificial sea (the real one has stingers so they have made an artificial one right next to it which is safe to swim in) back in airlie beach we look up and just happen to see Andy walking by. We catch up on his travels over a couple of beers as he is about to set off up North again. Early next morning we arrive at the harbour and aren’t disappointed. Possibly the biggest ship there and looking a lot like one of the pirate ships you see in the movies we’re ushered on board by an old sea dog who looks every bit the part, even sporting an eye patch. We’re introduced to Bianca, who will be in charge on the trip and she in turn introduces the rest of the crew, before we motor out of the harbour. Unfortunately what little wind there is, is going in the wrong direction for us to raise sail and this proves to be the case for the entire trip, but other than that the ship and the crew exceed our expectations and make the whole experience thoroughly enjoyable. Bianca shows us to our cabins and demonstrates how to use the shower and toilet (system of turning valves and hand pumping keeps everything going to where it should do…), then we are introduced to the snorkel gear and lastly the stinger suits.

Stinger is the nickname of the deadly box jellyfish that are prevalent in the waters around the North Queensland coast at this time of year. To prevent getting stung, whenever you enter the water, even for a swim, you’re advised to wear a stinger suit. The particular ones we’re given on the boat are made from lycra, similar to the fabric used to make the rash vests that surfers wear, only these ones are full suits that zip up the front and in two colours so it looks like we’re all in fancy dress at a star trek convention.

We arrive at the first island in the group and head off over the top to a lookout point from where we can see right across the group of islands and the clear white beaches and turquoise waters below. Then we tramp down across to the beach and round to a private cove that Bianca knows from previous trips and don our suits for the first time. Much hilarity, posing and taking of photographs later and we finally get round to getting in for a swim which after the heat of the beach is a very welcome relief. The scene on the beach later as the suits hang in the trees drying off is quite bizarre almost as though we have all shed our skins.

Back on the boat we’re treated to some good food and we get to know everyone on the boat. One of the guys admits he is a “bit of a snorer” and says he will sleep up on deck to keep out of people’s way, he has even brought ten sets of ear plugs with him for people. The next morning even these efforts don’t seem enough as one of the girls threatens to kill him if he makes as much noise for a second night running. I’ve not been disturbed at all so I think it a little harsh, but when on the second night he positions himself up above the hatch to our cabin and the deafening noise is funnelled down to us all night I can quite see where she is coming from. We spend the second day snorkelling on the reef around two of the islands. After a bit of fiddling with the mask and getting used to breathing and wearing the fins I’m happily bobbing around taking it all in. The array of fish is stunning, with parrot fish nibbling away on the coral everywhere you look, shoals of stripey fish pestering you as soon as you get in the water, angel fish, huge groupers and even a ray swimming by. It was difficult to get me out of the water. Late afternoon I decide its “beer o’clock” and Bianca fetches us back to the big boat in the little motor boat collecting a few others back too. One of the guys suddenly complains that he is getting an asthma attack and we speed back to the boat to get his inhaler. He’s wheezing quite badly by then so rests down below for a while to recover. Later in the evening when he reappears I ask how he is feeling and he confesses that the attack had been brought on by stress as he had really wanted the loo and wasn’t sure we’d get back to the boat in time… a little too much information methinks…

The final day was spent lounging on board the boat (the deck got so hot in the sun that you couldn’t stand on it so I took to shuffling along on my towel to get about although there was a big covered area if you wished to stay in the shade) and hiking up one of the islands to see another great viewpoint over the islands. The heat made us all fantasize about much better ways of getting back to the boat than walking, such as a big waterslide or flying fox zipslide. A bit more lounging on deck once back onboard saw us back to harbour with yet more interesting local info from Bianca who really was a font of knowledge on all the area.

Sunshine Coast and Beyond

2004-12-02T01:15:00.000Z

Heading off late Monday afternoon we decide to make our first stop at Noosa at the top of the sunshine coast. Noosa is supposedly a rich persons playground and it is certainly very picturesque. A close-up of some pelicans feeding is the highlight of our evening but we soon turn in with the prospect of an early start and some serious mile munching to do the next day.

Travelling up the Bruce Highway, aka HWY1, its easy to forget that this is the main “motorway” in Australia. The majority of it is single carriageway with barely any traffic coming in either direction, except for the colossal trucks that can come thundering up behind you and in some instances try to intimidate you off the road by driving up close behind and sounding their horns. Undeterred we pootled along in our little camper and by late afternoon we were up at Gladstone. According to the lonely planet guide most of the scenic places to camp in the area were over at the coast which would mean a 60 mile round trip out of the way so we settle for a campsite on the edge of one of the small towns that we are passing though. Described as basic in the guide we’re pleasantly surprised to find it equipped with clean modern washrooms, a swimming pool and communal bbq area, just the job and it gives us the headstart we need to get on to Airlie beach in the morning.

So here we are again...

2004-11-29T01:13:00.000Z

…back at Toogoolawah. We get back early evening and the place is deserted as everyone has obviously gone to the pub, so we settle down to an evening of foosball, supping the remaining beer and wine we’ve got from the trip to Fraser. Halfway into the third game Rob glances up at me and immediately freezes. “Don’t move, you’ve got a Huntsman on your head” ( a Huntsman is a spider which can get bigger than your hand and although not deadly can give a particularly painful bite). I’m not convinced it isn’t a wind-up even when Laura backs him up, until with a swipe with my flipflop (aka thong) rob bats it off my head and onto the floor where he stamps on it immediately. A relative baby by huntsman standards its probably not much bigger than an inch but its still a bit of a shock anyway, I think Shaz with his arachnophobia is affected more than me.

The “learning curve camp” is set to start the next week so later that night we get the first arrivals who have travelled all the way from Nagambie near Melbourne. The next morning we are subjected to something akin to alcoholics anonymous meeting as we each in turn have to stand up and give our name, jump experience and what we aim to get out of the week. It’s a bit awkward, but funny nonetheless and at least we get to know the small crowd that have turned up from the offset. Tom and Leila had completed their AFF the week before so Leila was raring to join in the camp too. (Unfortunately for Tom drunken escapades to celebrate qualifying had led him to do a naked flare run and he’d burnt his finger pretty badly in the process, so badly in fact that he had to undergo a skin graft on it later that week.) One great thing to happen as part of the camp was that all the landings were filmed and then debriefed at the end of the day. Of course if you know you’ve fallen over earlier in the day you are cringing by the evening as your moment of shame is played back but it was all done in good humour. The only person who didn’t seem able to take it was one of the organisers. He had been giving the debrief all week and was only too quick to criticise if he thought someone was deliberately aiming to get close to the camera and look cool on purpose. On the final day he did exactly that and managed to actually collide with Emma who had been doing the videoing all week. Fortunately neither of them was badly hurt but he then left before giving the debrief that evening…hmm…

The usual occupation of watching videos continued whenever we got a rain shower and Zoolander took on cult status. People were being asked for “Blue Steel” or “Magnum” poses and the evening video was played to a chorus of “That Rob Simpson, he’s so hot right now”. They even had a “walk-off” to celebrate the end of the camp, which Wayno and Suzie rightfully won with their costumes and synchronised “going monk”. (You’d have to watch it to understand… or maybe do what we did and watch it about ten times in a week…)

All during the week of the camp Rob and I had been beavering away making a proper bed for the camper van (or should I say, Rob had been beavering and I’d been gophering), we’d acquired some wood largely for free from the timber yard, the only planks we paid for being for the top where we wanted to assure that everything was on a level. By the weekend the bed was complete and we were ready to do a more extensive tour of Australia, or at least Queensland.

Fraser Island

2004-11-20T04:07:00.000Z

The best laid plans are rarely followed and before we know it Shaz and Andy are coming along as well. Oh and then Laura and Glen, oh and we’ll meet up with Claire, Sarah and Silver at Rainbow beach. We get there quite late on so decide to stay the night, arrange 4x4s in the morning and get the ferry across to the island later. Silver lets us know that Monkey, Sean, Carole, Scotty and Cecilia are arriving first thing too, so what was a quiet time away is becoming anything but. A few beers and a bbq by the beach and we crash out in the vans for the night. 4am and a loud banging on the van doors rudely awakens us “Can’t you buggers read?!” Apparently we’ve parked up in a no camping area, so we’re moved on and 2minutes down the road we resettle for a couple more hours kip.

The hot sun on the van has us all up early and we grab a shower on the beach and a spot of breakfast before arranging the 4x4s. Two 5 seater pick-ups should do the trick as the other guys have their own cars. A whopping $1000 deposit which we lose if they get covered in salt water, plus the knowledge that if we damage the cars at all we’re not covered for their $40000 value means we’re going to have to be careful. The tides are such that we can’t go across on the ferry until 2pm anyway so we stock up on firewood and food in town and laze out on the beach waiting for the ferry across to the island, enjoying a spot of cricket and frisbee.

Fraser Island is a National Park, it has no roads only sandy tracks and a long 75mile stretch of beach up the east coast is the main route for travelling up the island. The high tides mean this is only going to passable early morning and late afternoon so we plan our stay accordingly. The other guys are happy to stop early up the island but we press on pass an old shipwreck on the beach called Maheno and north up to Cathedral beach, then back track and go inland up to Lake Allom. Lake Allom is situated in the middle of dense rainforest up some steep sandy tracks, as we bounce along we get our first taster of just why they only allow 4x4s on the island. Settled at the campsite (for campsite read clearing in the wood, with two picnic tables and a couple of peat toilets). The Lake is somewhat disappointing being surrounded in reeds, but the little heads of turtles poking up out of the water are a wonderful sight. Silver gets on with cooking pasta for 9 people in two very small pans i.e. 3 lots of 3 lots of pasta, then we all settle down in the dark of the woods. Before long, every snap of a twig is interpreted as a dingo or a wombat and we all on the edge of our seats. A bizarre game of ghost stories then starts with each person carrying on from the last and just telling a little bit of the story. Very very funny and we wished we’d captured it on video.

The next day the other guys meet up with us, still up from partying the night before, we let them know our plans but I think they need a more restful day and head back down to the beach. Our day is spent bouncing round the tracks and walking to a couple of lakes which again prove a little disappointing due to all the reeds. Mid afternoon we’re back on the beach and up at Eli Creek, a fantastic freshwater creek where we can wade up the creek then allow the flow of it to carry you back down to the beach, great exercise and really refreshing, just a few too many people. It doesn’t stop everyone coming up with the highly entertaining game of snatch kicking though... We find the others camped just down the beach so pitch our tents with them and join them round a campfire for dinner and more ghost stories.

The day dawns bright and beautiful and I manage to watch the sunrise over the sea through the door of the tent. We amble up to Eli Creek and have the pleasure of it all to ourselves for an early morning dip. There aren’t any showers around so this is as close as we get to it and its bliss. Aware that the tide is coming in we set off back down the beach and pick up breakfast at Happy Valley before setting off inland again to Lake McKenzie, probably the most famous of the lakes on the island and duly so. Glorious white sandy beaches and clear sparkling turquoise waters. We swim then sun ourselves for a while, we’re lucky to be there quite early so have a huge stretch of beach to ourselves. Rob digs a “mantrap” and we half bury rob in it then break off for some noodles for lunch. Only bad thing about the place has to be the flies. Huge horse flies that really sting when they bite so we all take on a customary dance flicking at ourselves and one another, their only saving grace that they don’t leave an itchy bite behind. From McKenzie we move on to Lake Wabby. Quite a substantial walk (well ,about 4km) from the carpark you get a taster about 1.5km in as from a lookout in the trees you can see the vast sand dune leading down to the bight azure waters. The sand, when you get down to it, is red hot and we all fly down the steep banks and into the cool waters. A lot steeper and deeper than McKenzie the lake is more private and with the impressive dune overlooking it seems all the more beautiful. More swimming and lazing and we’re back off through the forest to the cars. A combination of frequent safety meetings and DJ Ritchie’s Equinox CD (track 6 specifically) mean the progression along the sandy tracks is taken more confidently and we fly back to the beach in no time at all, back up for a dip at the creek and a bbq on the beach again.

Our last day on the island and we head to central station, famed on postcards for Wanggoolba creek, a lush rainforest creek. We walk around it then set off through the forest to basin lake. This must be one of the better kept secrets on the island as a 3km walk takes you to a beautiful lake surrounded on all sides by white sandy beach and then rainforest. We enjoy having the place to ourselves before setting off to Lake Birrabeen for lunch. Birrabeen seems to be a favourite with tour buses, I guess though being more accessible and having acres of beach due to it being so shallow in slope into the lake. A final push takes us down onto the beach where we have to make it down to the bottom of the island to catch the ferry back to the mainland. The tide has only been going out for an hour or so and when we near the bottom of the island we’re left with a dilemma. We can see where the ferrys are coming across to the island but the tide is still too far in for the cars to safely get round without being in the salt water. Rob and I walk round to check the route and are followed back by a dingo to where the others are questioning some people in a truck about to take the pass. We call the car hire guy and he lets us know we’ve 10mintues to get the last ferry so we decide to make a run for it and get there just in time for the last ferry to arrive and take us away.

We swap the cars back in for the vans and Silver and the girls head off straight away to have a night of comfort back at their adoptive parents. We head back out to the beach for one last campfire before heading back to the DZ the next day, with plans to meet the girls at the Zoo en route.

"Rippa!" Australia, Steve Irwin style

2004-11-20T01:10:00.000Z

After a quiet night on the beach and a campfire we wake pretty early and get on our way. Our rendezvous with the girls planned for the Australia Zoo around lunchtime. Arriving more or less the same time, (although the girls are more fresh and clean smelling admittedly), we go in and plan our afternoon.

First on the list is the feeding of the crocs, with a clear demonstration of just how fast those buggers can go when they want food. Our appetites wetted we trough down some food of our own then explore the rest of the park. The roos are remarkably tame allowing you to get right up close and stroke them, the koalas are similar although their long claws are quite intimidating for such placid looking creatures. A tour of the emus (don’t run because you might frighten them?), the birds of prey being fed (including an eagle that couldn’t fly because some stupid people had found it as a baby and kept it in a box for 5 years so its wings had never been able to stretch out), the Tasmanian devils, dingoes, deadliest snakes, reptiles (with a multitude of iguanas, water dragons and skinks), other assorted birds (including huge ones that could kill you – can everything over here kill you?) and even some incredibly playful otters, we were about “australia’d” up. A last goodbye to Silver and the girls and we pushed back on “home” to Toogoolawah.

Nox Detox

2004-11-12T04:06:00.000Z

We decide to stay on at Toogoolawah for a while as a jump course from the British army is due to start the next week and besides we have some jump tickets left over so it would be rude to go just yet. We settle into a pattern of jumping in the morning (up early as the sun heats you up in the caravan like an oven), then bouncing rain in the afternoon so off into town to the café for thickshakes and to pick up some videos for an afternoon/evening of watching videos. Much the same can be said when the army guys arrive, giving one of their instructors Aidy a bit of a shock as he didn’t expect to see quite so many familiar faces so far from home. Eventually after being on the DZ for 4 weeks we decide its about time we got “off drops”. First of all we need to acquire some transport, so after a lift in the crab wagon into Brisbane, we leave Andy wandering round the art museum and venture off round the shops, spending more time in search of a “bop-it” game which the ozzies don’t seem to have heard of. Finally we go out in search of a van, look over a few “wicked” campers with their lurid paintwork and unfortunately leaky engines and cracked windscreens before spotting an ad for a van at a garage some way out of town.

We pick Andy up and head off to the garage, they have a couple of vans available but time is getting on, so we send Andy and Shaz homeward, figuring we can always stay for the night with Rob’s friend Howard if push comes to shove. The garage owner lets us borrow a car while we go get a bite to eat and think it over and we decide that the more expensive van is the way for us to go, even though it doesn’t leave us much to fit it out with (it’s a bare van with nothing inside). Returning back to the garage its getting on and Howard isn’t answering our calls so we’re thinking we’ll have to taxi it back into town for a hostel which is a long trip. We can’t take the van as it need a new rego which we can sort out in the morning. The garage owner very kindly says we crash out in the house on the back of the office, where he had been living until quite recently so a bed and bedding was still there. With the company of two friendly cats we think it’s the ideal solution and we’re locked in for the night. Before long Rob looks down at his feet however and notices little black specks, I examine mine and sure enough they are covered right up to half way up my shins and calves. Fleas. We’re being bitten all over. More frantic ringing round, its past 9pm but there is no way we can sleep here, if we lie down we’re likely to get bitten all over. Finally Rob manages to find a motel down the road and a taxi firm that will take us there. We get there after 10, our skin crawling and get a much needed shower before bagging up all our clothes to be washed at the earliest opportunity.

Next day we make our excuses about Rob’s allergy to cats as to why we didn’t stay the night, pick up the van and get a new rego. We pass a furniture place and come away with a mattress, a table and four chairs for less than 50bucks (20 quid), bargain! We can manage with the mattress on the floor for the moment, we’ll build a bed later when we’ve been away for a week as its about time we had some proper time off drops and Rob and I plan our trip the following Monday to Fraser Island.

Equinox 2004

2004-11-01T04:04:00.000Z

The day of the boogie arrives and we’re introduced to all the load organisers and other staff. We’ve already met a few, Susie, Macca’s daughter and editor of the Ozzie skydive mag, Wayno, her fella with 9000 jumps, he’s already given me some 1 on 1 canopy coaching and promises to do some great video work during the boogie. Amy, ex- sugar gliderz, I met in Arizona and again in Brazil is gonna be doing some FF stuff and are very own George is doing some atmonauti. Crikey is doing tracking and big way FF as is Scotty and there are loads of flatty organisers too, including Luke who seems to prefer to jump with his clothes off, something that Shaz can’t wait to join in with. So ensues a week of crazy jumping, great entertainment (see Herman and the bongo guy out by the pool every evening, followed by DJ Ritchie laying down some great sounds into the night). Not forgetting of course the raffle every night, with me being jammy enough to win a custom jumpsuit which with any luck will be ready by Christmas, nice pressie for me!

The days fly by and we meet some more of the locals, Ian, Blakey, Coombesy, Ryan, Lito, Pizza, Freydos, Daniel, Carole, Monkey the list goes on and on. Even Rob’s friend Howard, from back home who he hasn’t seen since the last Nox (owing largely to the fact he now lives in Brisbane!) Shaz and Rob opt for the Nox haircut and give each other mohicans and then go round gathering others to succumb to the same. The talent competition sees Amy giving a jaw dropping performance with a hula hoop while some other poor girl tries to get everyone to join in with a song from her childhood that unfortunately no-one knows, cue tumbleweed blowing across the stage. Shaz fails to get on the world record nudy way but has a good time trying, we all skip out the back of the skyvan hand in hand, the chicks get some coaching off Amy and I take my first dock head down. Before we know it the last load has gone up, the last tune has been played and the majority of the 400 strong crowd has departed again.

Ramblers Resort - Toogoolawah

2004-10-22T04:03:00.000Z

… and so at last we’re on our way to the infamous Toogoolawah, home of the Equinox Boogie* and the place Rob has raved about for the last couple of years. Rob’s nervous (but won’t admit it!) – will it have changed, will anyone remember him… I’m nervous – will I feel an outsider as rob fits right back in. As it turns out, after a handy airport pick-up from Brisbane (thanks Roland!) We arrive 9pm in the pitch black and follow the glow of the light from the bar. There residing happily is Macca aka Dave McEvoy, chief instructor of the club and a shout of “Rob!” confirms that indeed Rob has been remembered. A few beers later and I’m sat alongside Macca on his piano stool while he bangs out a few tunes (bear in mind this is after he has already kept us entertained on his sax and clarinet) and I’m feeling right at home too.

The caravan we’ve booked for the boogie is already on site so we’re soon settled in there and into a steady pattern of jumping all day then chilling in the bar. Macca lets us know that he’s hoping for rain, they’ve been in drought since May and the whole state is parched and dry and at risk of bush fires. Thinking back that so far this year I’ve seen rain in Arizona, Dubai, Sweden, Brazil, Chile, French Polynesia and New Zealand I don’t think it will take long for the rain to follow us and sure enough after two days it arrives. The ozzies are over the moon when rain arrives and fortunately the showers are short enough not to greatly affect the jumping although the humidity afterwards is something else. You get used to jumping in on the sun set loads and watching out for Kangaroos on the landing area though, and the magpies swooping down to get your head on the way out to the plane or to attack your pilot chute on the way back in. Skydiving Oz style.

A few days on and we’re nicely settled in, when we wander back into the bar area and spy Shaz and Andy from back home, a day later and its Rob Silver, followed shortly after by Claire and Sarah and then Laura. The British contingent has arrived, Hib on tour! A couple of Freds(Red Devils), Glen and Jonno add to the numbers and then George, Cheryl, Steve, Jo etc. etc. you get the idea, the Brits must make up a good proportion of a lot of the plane loads, but then with 400 people registered for the boogie its going to be a good one.

*Boogie – definition: a gathering of skydivers with the intention of doing some fun jumping and partying hard, bit like a festival in whuffo* terminology.
*whuffo – definition: someone who has never done a single skydive, derived from “what do you do that for?”

We're off to a land downunder...

2004-10-14T03:59:00.000Z

Arriving in Sydney with the usual mass of luggage and a weather uncharacteristically hot for the time of year we stagger to the bus and are crammed in for the short trip to our hostel. Picture an 18-30 holiday held in a huge converted 7storey building and you’ll get an idea of where we’re at. Fantastic old building right near the centre of the city, cool hip slick modern interior and loads of 16-22yr olds speaking at 200% volume as they try to impress all around with how cool and well travelled they really are. No, I’m being a bit harsh. The place is run like a very slick youth hostel, and to be fair is quiet at night and clean and professional in the day, the cellar bar puts on the sort of entertainment the aforementioned clientele would most appreciate, making it a cattle market just like any self respecting student union bar, but you’re in the city so if that isn’t your cup of tea you can always drink/eat elsewhere.

With two days in the city before we head off to the dropzone and a shopping list of must haves we head off to take it all in. Shopping successfully complete, we have time to take in the opera house (how small?) and Sydney harbour bridge before catching a ferry over to Manly and the beach. A bit of a surfers mecca, the place is littered with surf shops and the beach with apparently all the occupants of the hostel. A fantastic deli sandwich shop and a few gallons of water later we grab the ferry back and I’m satisfied that my whistle-stop stay in Sydney is complete.

New Zealand in a flash… we crossed the dateline and I didn’t even notice…

2004-10-12T01:18:00.000Z

When we found out that Liz and Noel were going to still be around in NZ as we passed through, we changed our flights to take in a long weekend in Auckland and catch up with them, albeit briefly. Arriving at their pad just minutes before Noel got home from work we managed between us to consume a good array of beer in the short spell before Liz arrived in, having just completed her last day (for now) as a burns fellow at the Auckland area hospitals. Duly reminded that it was Liz’s leaving do that evening we nipped out for a curry (boy have I looked forward to having a curry and I’m only 6 weeks from home) and then a few beers and met a few of her colleagues. We were on best behaviour, at least until her colleagues left, then there was no stopping Rob on the dance floor as he gyrated away to James Brown, just like being back in Hib bar… quite scary in the public arena.

Saturday saw us following Noel on down to Mercer, a skydive centre about 45 minutes south of Auckland. We arrived in time to go and watch them take a demo into a local school fete, much amusement as they announced over the tannoy that “a chicken had escaped, but they didn’t know which pen it belonged in so they had put it back in the empty one, could the owner please come and identify it”… you probably had to be there. That, as well as all the sheep being lead around on bits of string and the children in their wellies made you realise you were definitely out in the country. Demo completed with only the tandem master being sicked on by the student, we returned to the DZ and enjoyed an afternoon of cloud watching, as is customary at DZs worldwide.

On Sunday we headed up the country a bit to the beach area where the film “the piano” was filmed, black sands and all. No sooner were the kites out and flying than the heavens opened. Liz and I attempted shelter behind a rock, followed soon after by Noel, only rob kept trying to fly his kite in vain. Eventually even he admitted defeat and we retreated, absolutely sodden, back to the car for a picnic before moving along to the next beach along. The rain had abated and the sea was teeming with kite surfers, zooming along and leaping in the air doing stunts. Rob and Noel stacked the kites for a bit more power, Liz had to be held in place to save her from being dragged (I yellow-bellied out) and Rob ended up on his back still flying the kite from there. On the way back home we popped into the city to pick up some art materials for me and chanced upon an Irish pub which seemed too good an opportunity to miss out on, an hour later we reappeared, bellies stuffed with a full Sunday Roast washed down with Guinness, fantastic.

On Monday we headed back to Mercer, luck didn’t seem to be on our side as we got a call on the way to say the plane had broken down and could we pick the pilot up from where it was being repaired. Undeterred however we made it down and I initiated myself into NZ skydiving from a Cesna 182 with Liz in tow (literally, as we exited over the huge step) and Rob and Noel whizzing round us. That done and with the customary crate of beer bought we headed back to Auckland where we met up with Gill and Alex and had an enormous Japanese meal. It was very difficult to come to grips with the fact we were on the other side of the world and not just in the UK somewhere.

Difficult that is until the following morning… Gill unfortunately had to work, but 10am the next morning saw the rest of us clambering over the underside of Auckland Harbour Bridge. “To what end?” you might ask. A few minutes later and we were each in turn throwing ourselves off the 40m high bridge like lemmings, attached only by a bit of elastic. Even Noels emergency drills couldn’t save him as he stood on the edge of the platform. Absolutely fantastic! Liz and I came back down with huge grins on our faces to replace the grey faces and frowns of a few moments before. I always said that if I went to NZ I’d do a bungee jump and if I get the chance to go back there I want to do another, next time from even higher, sorry Mum!

French Polynesia, emphasis on the “French.”

2004-10-07T01:16:00.000Z

Arriving in Papeete, Tahiti at 23:00 we expected a similar warm welcome to that of Easter Island. Obviously a much more developed region with a professional big airport, the reception was still restrained and with no sign of any adverts for accommodation we approached a couple of the tour reps and were met with blank expressions and shrugs. As one of the popular stop off points for round the world ticket holders and surfers alike it seemed surprising that there was nothing on offer and we finally, as the airport cleared, got a name of a hostel that we could give to a taxi driver there. The £30 fare for a 10minute taxi ride was our first indication of the cost of the area. The hostel that we arrived at was big but basic (note, en suite means a curtain around the toilet in your room, the shower was communal and cold at all times apart from 6:30pm, to 8:30pm, we thought that was a typo but it wasn’t), all this for US$50 a night and people sat on the veranda outside your window. Oh and the least friendly welcome ever from the woman in charge. That said, it was clean (apart from the insects, geckos and cockroaches) and really handy for the harbour front and main markets.

Papeete is a bustling city, the market itself a treat with fresh fish, fruit and veg stalls providing all the food you could want, plus a huge array of stalls selling allsorts of cooked foods from Chinese, to pizza, to crepes, all at a reasonable cost (especially by Polynesian standards). Outside is a whole area dedicated to pareos (that’s a sarong to the unitiated) and upstairs further stalls dedicated to local crafts, jewellery, clothing and suchlike. Ideal for any souvenirs of the trip, but we stopped at the purchase of a couple of pareos ready for our trip to the beach next day.

Tahiti itself, despite its fame for such, does not actually have many good beaches, but a 30minute ferry ride can take you over to Moorea, a neighbouring island, littered all round with beautiful sandy beaches and clear turquoise lagoons where you can snorkel amongst the coral reef and see the local sea life at close hand. Taking “le truck” around the island is by far the cheapest option, something we found out to our cost the second day, after getting off the last ferry that morning and seeing le truck full to busting we decided to wait for the next one. An hour later it returned but reported it wasn’t moving for another 2 hrs until the next ferry was due in so we opted for a taxi that must have cost nearly 8 times of the cost for both of us to travel in the bus. At least by then we were there for the rest of the week and we clambered out at Camp Nelson on the other side of the island. Here for less than $30 a night we had our own hut overlooking the beach, access to a communal kitchen and shower block (no hot water but with the heat of the sun that was quite a relief and pretty unnecessary) and less than a minute stroll onto a beach which during our entire stay had probably less than a dozen people, closer to half of that on it most of the time.

About 3 metres from shore was a thin stretch of dead reef which meant that a well of the local aquatic life could be seen by just getting your feet wet, while stood on there we saw stonefish (can be deadly if you stand on them and look like stone so made me a little paranoid about walking without shoes), moray eels, brightly coloured clown fish and even a stingray that was almost a metre in diameter. At night time with the sun painting the sky in all shades of orange, cerise and lavender, the colours were reflected in the sea and you could pick out the tips of reef sharks basking in the shallow waters off shore.

Our time was therefore spent, lounging on the beach, paddling/swimming/snorkelling, lounging on the beach some more etc., etc. Point to note here: When snorkelling wear a t-shirt (did that, so far so good) and preferably shorts, or at least full bottomed bikini. I had my one venture out in a string bikini and ended up with, as Rob described it, two edams with a dairylea triangle imbetween. Ow, ow and ow again. Fortunately it was a full day before we next flew but it still hurt for several days after that. In fact when we saw Liz and Noel that weekend in Auckland and showed her the picture of my poor bum in peak burnt state (we’ve all seen each other naked…. they know what we mean…) she said she’d have thought of admitting me to hospital for it. This is Liz who works as a burns specialist/plastic surgeon… like ow.

Rapa Nui (aka Easter Island, aka Island of the big heads – pronounced biig heeds)

2004-09-29T01:12:00.000Z

Arriving in the dark of night to a fine wet drizzle and no place to stay we began to wonder where we’d come to. A tiny airport that allowed you to walk straight out from the tarmac of the airfield and on into the country with no sign of passport or security checks and a single baggage carousel whirling round with the luggage of the one flight that day. Having a hazy list of local “residentials” I’d hurriedly scribbled down from the thorntree posts on the lonely planet website, I approached the kiosk of the only one I recognised only to be told it was full. Not to worry the helpful guy passed me over to the friendly faces in the next kiosk along and within minutes a deal was struck and we found ourselves in a taxi for the 5minute drive to our home for the next week.

Cabanas Vaianny turned out to be a house with several cottages in a walled garden filled with fruit trees and exotic flowers. Each cottage had its own ensuite and plenty of space for storage, plus a veranda where you could sit out and chill. We were told to come to the main house each day for breakfast or at any other time if we needed help or advice with anything. The house was located just 2 minutes walk from the “main” road of Hanga Roa with shops and restaurants and 10minutes walk to the “main” harbour. “Main” is given in apostrophes as on an island with just 180 km2 surface and a total inhabitants of less than 4000 people nothing is that big, the tarmac roads only arrived 15 years ago and the harbour takes in a few small fishing boats and not much bigger.

Day 1 on Easter island saw us waking at a leisurely hour, enjoying the fresh fruit at breakfast and making sandwiches with the other food provided for lunch then ambling off for our first explore of the island. The weather was overcast and blowy but still warm, warm enough in fact for me to be happy in shorts and a vest top despite the high winds which should have been somewhat of a warning as to just how strong the sun was. We trecked on up the coastline out of the town viewing our first Moai (stone heads) very excitedly, named collectively as Ahu Tahai, Kote Riku, the northernmost of these three ahu is unique in having eyes made of coral and obsidian that were added at a later date during the restoration of the altar in the 1970s. Most of the altars that are seen standing around the island have been restored back to that position at some point during the twentieth century, as tribal wars that took place centuries earlier, coupled with the introduction of Christianity to the island led to many of the heads being toppled and their topknots dislodged and/or destroyed. This same period also saw much of the deforestation take place which led from what was once reportedly a tropical paradise to the barren island that remains today. That said, Easter Island is a place of true unspoilt beauty, you can walks for miles and not see another soul and the sea surrounding the island is a beautiful clear crystal blue.

Our walk the first day took us up half of the coast north of town, adopted by the local dogs who seem to take great fun in joining whoever seems to be walking ahead at the time as their new owners. We returned at night windswept and a little pink from our travels and we asked the owners of the house if it was possible to book us on a guided tour of the island for the next day.

Day 2 dawned greyer than day1 and we were met with the disappointing news that the tour was already fully subscribed for the day so we’d have to wait another day for it (the tour we’d chosen only took 5 people out as a maximum, as we didn’t want to feel we would be herded around in a large group and this gave us more options for adapting the route to suit the group). Disappointed, but glad we still had it booked for the next day we decided to explore the town, visit the markets and the craft gallery. The local gallery had stall upon stall of miniature Moai sculpted from volcanic stone, wood and harder stones such as the local obsidian, as well as the shell, feather and bead jewellery, sarongs and t-shirts. None of the pieces seemed particularly cheap though, one noticeably fine wooden head retailing at US$60! The local fruit market appeared a much better option, with similar pieces being on offer at a much discounted price. After the markets we were keen to set off out of civilisation again and headed south out of town in search of Ana Kai Tangata, a cave with pictographies (cave paintings), before long the heavens opened and we were slipping and sliding our way through red mud down to another harbour with still no sign of the elusive cave. Like drowned rats we returned home and discovered it was still early, so with the rain over, a bite to eat inside us and a fresh set of clothes we set off again in search of the cave, this time wisely looking at the map.

Getting to the cave you approach from a clifftop above and scramble down some steps well hewn out of the rock. With the storm only just abated the power of the waves crashing into the mouth of the cave was immense, the water still a deep grey blue bursting into a bright white spray as it hit the rocks on its way into shore. The cave paintings were only just discernible as much of the ceiling has come down. Traditionally the roof would naturally come down in the form of slates which they would use to roof their homes, then the local artists would paint new pictures using local minerals and dyes to create the colours of the paints. Unfortunately noone now remains with the knowledge and skill to paint these pictures so before long they will cease to exist altogether.

Happy with our cave find we bumped into some others from our boarding house at a café on the way back home and arranged to go and see a local dance show that night. The restaurant where the dancers were on had a wide choice of the local fish available so we each chose a different dish/fish and weren’t disappointed. I popped to the loo before the performance was due to start as you had to cross the stage to access them and found all the performers changing for the show. With the girls dressed in feather skirts and bikinis and the guys in grass warrier outfits it looked set to be a good show and Andy and Rob’s faces when the girls got up on stage confirmed that. Boy can they move their bums! Its like they were controlled by the drum beats, the lads were mesmerised. I was just trying to work out how they did it. Fantastic, even funnier when Jenna and Andy got dragged on stage to join in.

Day 3 was set to be the day of the tour and the day dawned clear and blue. We were met by our guide after breakfast and shown to the VW camper that was to be our tour bus for the day. The morning saw us heading up Rano Kau volcano, with the most incredible lagoon in the top and views out to sea and across the island. The sea today was a bright cobalt blue, even viewed from up high you could see clearly through to the coral reefs below, simply stunning. We went on round to Rapa Nui national park, from where you can access Orongo, a collection of stone huts where the traditional birdman competition was held. The competition saw men climbing down the cliff face, swimming out to an island in search of a particular type of bird egg, the first to return with such an egg then became leader of the tribe. The competition could last for many days and even weeks so huts were constructed for the men to live in while they watched for the birds to arrive on the island and the seas to be suitable to cross.

We went on from there via ahu akivi (unique in being the only moia to look out to sea) to the te pahu caves, a series of caves that ran 2km from inland to shore where the local tribes could take shelter and barricade themselves in at times of war. On one of the days later in the week Rob and I returned by travelling up the coast and traced many of the caves inland. The one at the coast was called the cave of two windows (dos ventanas caves ana kakenga) as you could walk through it and out into the cliff face.

From the caves we backtracked around up the east coast past more and more Moia until we reached Rano Raraku Quarry. This must be the most spectacular sight on the island. The quarry, actually a volcano, was the site of construction of many of the moai on the island. Today over 300 moai still exist in the area, some fully complete moia stand upright on the side of the volcano (both inside and out), many buried up to their necks in silt over the centuries giving an impression of almost a showroom for the moia to prospective customers. Many others can be seen partially carved out of the rock face in various stages of construction. We climbed to the top of the volcano from where you get a terrific view right across the island and down at the closest shore to Ahu Tongariki the site of a long line of Moia reconstructed by the Japanese and apparently a particularly stunning sight at sunrise as the sun rises over the sea behind them.

A final trip round the top of the island saw us taking in Te Pito te Henua, a big perfectly round stone referred to by locals as the “centre of the earth,” or “uterus of the planet” it is thought to hold special powers that are transferred to the individual when lightly stroked. The stone did leave your hands with a strange tingling sensation and it was discovered in recent years to hold a massive magnetic charge so that could provide an explanation although it would be nice to think I’d just got some magical powers instead! From there we stopped at Anakena, one of only two proper beaches on the island and at the time we arrived rather surreally being used to film an advert for the latest Peugeot 307. A nice looking car although no doubt someone would be in trouble as they had already dented the estate version and with ferries only coming that direction once a month it was unlikely a replacement would be sent across.

The following days around Easter island were spent chilling, enjoying the now gloriously radiant weather, taking in turns to get sunburnt, hiking up the coastline and chilling some more. The night before we were due to leave, having enjoyed some quite superb empanada (a bit like a Cornish pasty) Rob came down with severe vomiting, within 2 hrs he’d emptied his system and I started with D&V. We felt absolutely retched, relieved only that we weren’t travelling that night. Whether it was the empanada, or a local bug (we found out that 3 others in the same boarding house were also ill that week) we don’t know, but the last day eating nothing and lying in the heat left us exhausted for the onward flight to Tahiti.

Competition Over

2004-09-21T14:34:00.000Z

The last week or so has flown by without me realising eg. I was totting up how many nights we'd stayed at the hotel in Boituva and I thought it was 9 but it was in fact 16, I'm struggling knowing what month it is let alone the date or the day of the week. So we're now back in Sao Paulo for a couple of days, catching up with admin and getting the essentials in while we're still in civilisation (I'm thinking that an island of 2800 total population won't have many shopping malls...?)

The world parachuting championships in Boituva is now complete, there were 17 teams in just the class Rob was competitng in so a really good turn out especially given the last minute change of venue. After much to-ing and fro-ing between the DZs the competition finally ran from the new DZ, Jame's place, so new in fact that much of it was still a building site. The poor guys working out by the swoop pond laying fresh turf, only to have it ploughed up by the guys washing the speed off their downwind landings.

As it is apt to do around any skydiving activity, the weather took a turn for the worst the weekend before the comp. with high winds followed by some poor visibility at altitude (not so much cloud as smog). Still the competition managed to proceed with only a couple more hiccups. With just three lifts (plane fulls of jumpers) to go to complete round 5 the owner of the planes grounded them until he received payment for the competition. After much debate, fuelled not least by the Bank of the organisers in Brasilia being on strike the planes were finally released and airborne again. After that one of the french teams appealed against the way round 2 had been scored. The jury agreed to a rejudge and the new scores resulted in 1st, 2nd and 3rd places for the french teams in freefly. This was much to the anger of the USA, Oz and Brazilian teams who then appealed to have the decision reversed, to no avail and hence all wore red noses to the final award ceremony.

The rejudge had little effect on our guys placement in the competition with them unfortunately coming in last by just 0.1 points, a bitter pill to swallow, especially after two busts in round 2 saw them dropping 4 points which would have seen them another 4 places up the board. The guys all made me proud though, rising above the great disappointment they must have been feeling and congratulating the other teams in the competition, showing greater sportsmanship therefore maybe than many of the teams at the top.

Following the comp. , (the weather again brilliantly bright and sunny,) alot of the guys, Dan, Jim and Bec included, headed off to Rio to experience some of the beaches and nightlife for which Brazil is famed. Unfortunately with just these two days until we fly onward we didn't feel we had the time, so made the tough decision to relax in Sao Paulo for a couple of days instead.

So lasting memories of Brazil... bizarre ones - crisps that are bright yellow but when they touch saliva turn bright blue (how many e numbers?), soft squidgy toilet seats, a full range of pastries, bread and potato pears that all contain either cheese, chicken and cheese or mince and cheddar cheese that is liquid even at room temperature, yak. A killer drink cachaca (fire water) drunk neat or as a caipirinha with crushedice, lime and sugar. Incredibly cheap buffets of food where you pile stuff on our plate then get it weighed, at the DZ that usually cost R$5 for a full plate, thats £1 to you or me! If you're in the city go for a traditional BBQ meal, help yourself salad bar like I've never seen and then waiters constantly coming round with skewers full of the most tender tasty meat that they will carve right in front of you. Oh and of course, most of all, the people, friendly and helpful like I've never met anywhere before.

Boituva

2004-09-08T14:32:00.000Z

Boituva is a small town about an hour and a half inland of Sao Paulo and home of Brazil’s National Dropzone, its also now home of Boituva Skydive, a privately run venture owned by James, a bright cheery guy most noticeable because of his bright ginger afro, and almost permanent smile. Boituva skydive was the home of the boogie, its opening boogie, this weekend but as it shares its planes and is separated by a just a walk across the landing area from the National centre we’ve got used to ambling back and forth between the two (ambling seems to be the required method of movement in Brazil, as the temperatures and general pace of life both lend themselves to a more relaxed outlook and attitude). The new centre is still mid construction but already the hotel is nearly completed, as is the bar, hangar and swoop pond so it all looks really promising for the future. The national centre is well established with several shops and schools operating from there, including fly factory with Fabio, Marcus, Flavio and Carlotta, plus the crash test dummies with Mico and his girlfriend Paulo making us feel particularly welcome. In fact, point to note here, Brazil is one of the most friendly welcoming places I’ve ever been to, everyone here seems happy to bend over backwards to help you, for example in nearly a week here we’ve not had to get a taxi back to the hotel once with someone offering a lift every night, very often someone who we’d not even met until a few moments earlier.

With Dan arriving, then Becs and Jim, at least Space were all successfully out in Brazil, big relief and with the arrival of Debs, Jim, Gary and Rob we’ve got a full British contingent, something not far short of a miracle after all the running around last week.

Jumping, or rather landing, in Boituva is fast, 2000ft altitude, the heat of the day and an uneven landing ground make for some interesting landings. A huge windsock is somewhat misleading too, with a slight flicker on the sock indicating a definite breeze on the ground as I discovered following the “first man down” rule effectively going downwind and whistling across the landing area at a terrific rate. The wind (what little there is of it) changes direction all the time too so checking wind direction before take off is next to useless, making me ever thankful for the huge windsock today as I landed a substantial distance away from the DZ on a hillside, amidst cows and termite mounds. From 1000ft I could still make out the windsock and so the best landing direction and so managed a safe (if not altogether dainty) landing on my feet (hopping ditches and termite mounds in the process, but this really was the best “out” in the area). Next followed a trek on foot, almost as interesting as I attempted to negotiate some rather defensive cows, a farmyard with yapping dogs and a very friendly lady who insisted on explaining to me how to get back to the road in a long stream of portugese. When she stopped for breath and I managed to get across that I was English and didn’t understand she repeated the process so this time I nodded, smiled and thanked her then battled my way across the scrub in what I hoped was the direction she had indicated. I was sweltering and wishing I a. at least spoke a handful of portugese, b. had some money on me to get back to the DZ once I reached the road and c. had some water. Boy was I relieved as I got to the road just as the DZ ambulance arrived in search of me, I owe Jonas the driver a beer!

Temperatures are on the up each day, reminding everyone that the Brazilian winter is most definitely over and spring is well under way (for temperatures, think Seville in summer… hot and getting hotter). Clear blue skies and shorts, even in the evening (the shorts that is, not the blue skies, although you do get the most amazing sunsets), nice. Teams from elsewhere have started to arrive, already we have some of the Swiss and U.S. plus others not yet identified. Oh and French. The French arrived in force yesterday, all 20 of them, fully paid up by the French authorities with flights, transport and, most essentially, training all covered. We’ve tried to say hello but have yet to gain eye contact with them maybe the week will see that change, you never know. Should be a good week ahead.

Where are we again?

2004-09-03T14:30:00.000Z

After a nice lie-in we get picked up by Max drop our gear off at his friend Fabio’s and cross part of the residencial area of Sao Paulo on foot to grab a massage in a Japanese oasis of calm not obvious from out on the street. More relaxed than I could have imagined by now we’re happy to while away some time meeting up with Fabio’s dad in the business district and walking round the designer shopping area before heading back to Fabio’s pad. Fabio has made arrangements for us all to get a lift down to the local DZ in Boituva but says as there is currently a 100km traffic jam leaving Sao Paulo we’re probably best leaving for Boituva after 10pm.

Its probably a good time for me to mention that just a few days ago, Monday in fact, we’d heard an ugly rumour that the World Parachuting Championships in Brasilia, our main reason for visiting Brazil, had been cancelled. After several frantic phonecalls we couldn’t confirm anything but a further 24hrs later, just the day before we were due to fly, it was confirmed, the competition in Brasilia had been cancelled but they were trying to find an alternative venue. So here it was, that three days later, the day we were due to head to Boituva for a boogie anyway, that we found out the competition had moved to Boituva itself. Great news, not only was the comp still on but we were also already headed right there, so no extra hassle or travel arrangements to make. The bad news at this moment was that Boituva had a rodeo in town for the weekend so there wasn’t a room available at any of the hotels in the town. Several calls later and Carlotta, a friend of Fabio’s, had “arranged” some accommodation for us (leaving us happy and a few rodeo goers a bit annoyed no doubt).

Sao Paulo, Brazil

2004-09-02T14:28:00.000Z

Arriving in Sao Paulo at 6am after an 11hr overnight flight direct from London, we tumble straight into a taxi and in the usual English manner attempt to explain to the portugese speaking driver the address of the hotel we’ve made a reservation at in the city, after a few frustrating attempts we resort to thrusting a piece of paper with the address in his hand and sure enough he understands immediately “Ah, Rua Jesuino Arrunda.” he repeats and nods his head. We’re sure it sound just the same as we’d been trying to say but it becomes quite apparent that in Brazil the level of English isn’t the same as we’ve come to ignorantly rely on in Europe.

An hour and a half later, after some of the craziest driving we’ve ever encountered (causing us to swear we’ll never hire a car to drive in the city) we arrive at the hotel. Modern, clean and stylish even by our home standards we get the first inkling that maybe this city isn’t the backwater dangerous place we’ve been lead to believe with horror stories back home.

A few hours later, refreshed with a few hours sleep and a good shower we hit the streets with Max, Rob’s coach, American but a virtual veteran of Brazil after several other visits. He show us the pleasures of the local fruit juice and coffee houses and we idle a while just viewing the local area before he leaves us to enjoy the evening. We grab a couple of beers before trying out a local sushi house and are served some of the best sushi at least I’ve ever eaten. We have time to reflect on the last 24hrs and try to absorb where we now are. The local neighbourhood is relaxed and friendly with no feeling of threat as you walk around, a far cry from what I’d imagined and its difficult to even grasp that we’re a quarter of the way round the world in the middle of South America and not just in a city in Portugal or Spain.

final preparations

2004-08-30T20:35:00.000Z

2 days time and we'll be at the airport, can't believe its come round so fast, but we're nearly ready so its all starting to dawn that this is actually happening. Had the realisation of just how little I can take with me today, a whole year with just one pair of jeans, what's that all about? Should be great though just getting out there and seeing so many new places, bit too warm for jeans too, great, plenty of sunshine to see us through the winter. Woohoo!

Was really weird leaving the club yesterday, knowing that we won't be back for quite a while and that there will be a whole new crowd there by the time we return, everyone at a different level of jumping. Should be awesome jumping with the old crowd when we get back too, all that much further on, kind of sad, but exciting too.

So, next stop Heathrow, then Sao Paulo, don't know quite what to expect but I'm sure we'll have some fun!

2004-08-20T17:34:00.000Z

scarborough days

work is over...

2004-08-13T01:37:00.000Z

well, within a matter of hours it will be. Adding this post in my last few hours as a Project Engineer before starting my life as a dropout, at least thats the way I'm sure a few people view it. That said, I think there are a few who wish they were jumping ship with me, I won't name names...

Three weeks further on already and less than three weeks to go before we fly out, I really can't believe it and still so much to do! The last few weeks have been crammed full, running round after kitchen fitters, flying camera at both Nationals - while I'm at it there, congrats to all the hib teams who competed at the Nationals, most especially Optic, Wizard, Space Kettles and Space for their medal positions. Oh and good luck to Mistral, Spank and Space at the World Parachuting Championships in September, shame they couldn't have been in the same place but i'm sure Crotia and Brazil will never be the same again thanks to you guys and your bands of supporters! I'm still recovering from the after-party last weekend... Hey and eXiLe and Cosmic Banditos, i'll miss you guys, thanks for some fantasitc jumps, you've taught me alot, not least of all how to really smile. Save a jump for me next year when I'm back eh?

So, the next three weeks sees us frantically DIYing, making all the final arrangements and even having the parents and inlaws doing a grand meeting... eek! Don't know who is most nervous... Hope I manage to catch up with everyone I want to in that time, many many apologies if I don't, I do mean to, honest!

a quick intro

2004-07-20T15:05:00.000Z

Okay, so I'm new at all this, but I thought I'd set this up so we've a way of logging our trip and our friends and family can keep up with what we're up to and where we've got to. Today is 42 days and counting until we set off and we've still a mountain of stuff to do. I'm still at work (15days and counting!) then we've the houses to finish doing up and sell/rent out. All going to be organised chaos I'm sure for a bit, but its just starting to sink in that this is actually a reality at last and not just a dream.

Bear with me as we make the final preparations then go off on our trip. I may ramble, rant and rave on on different days about nothing in particular, but then I wouldn't be me if I didn't!