Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Queensland

Queensland, as hot as chip fat.

Brisbane
We flew north to visit Glenys and her boys Zak and Adam. We generally hung out for a week basking in the sunshine and relaxing. We helped Glenys celebrate her ?? birthday on the 6th March and received some wonderful news from home where our niece Leah had given birth to Sarah Louise in the same day, making Mags a Great Auntie – but don’t tell anyone.

Fliss travelled up from Sydney by train and the two of us visited the all new Queensland museum of modern art, housing all the works post 1970 that had previously been housed in the nearby state art gallery. We travelled there along the river using the wonderfully convenient citycat service. There was a very interesting exhibition of Asia Pacific art that we both enjoyed before meeting up with Mags for a spot of lunch – it’s a hard life.

We spend an afternoon having a barbeque by the pool shared by the residents of Glenys’ apartments. Alcohol was “not allowed” so we were drinking plenty of “apple juice”.

Cairns
We continued north to Caaaaairns, near Cairns to catch up with our friends Lynette and Rudy who have spent the last year living on a Catamaran cruising the Queeensland coast. They’re holed up in the Cairns marina for the duration of the cyclone season. You can learn all about their unbelievably idyllic life by visiting Lynette’s wonderful blog - click on the link to the right of this page.

We spent a memorable day with them on their boat where we cruised to Fitzroy Island, approximately 2 hours away. We anchored about 100 metres from the shore with half a dozen other boats to idle away the afternoon. We jumped into the 28 degree C sea with flippers and goggles for a gentle swim over the nearby reef, and met up with a friendly turtle amongst the rainbow coloured reef fish and coral.

Back on board, I asked Rudy how far further north we would need to travel before we encountered any of the scary, man eating salt water Crocodiles. “Oh, we have them here”, he casually replied as the colour drained from my cheeks. Actually, they like to hang out in the rivers and creeks and, although they do venture out to sea, they generally stick to the outlets of the rivers on the mainland. On the islands, where there are no rivers, it would be very rare to see one. Well, that’s what he told me anyway.

Rudy cooked up a rack of lamb on the barbeque for lunch accompanied by his legendary potato salad, and the afternoon slipped quietly away under the southern sun. Quite a day, and they do this all the time – we’re not jealous at all.

We also had a trip out with them to Mossman in the Daintree Rainforest where we walked round a short 2km circular track. Typically, we find this irresistible. A path that leads nowhere, we couldn’t help ourselves. I went off ahead, as I wanted to get some exercise as Mags was moving like a united nations resolution. I left her limping behind chatting away to Lynette where they managed somehow to get lost before eventually regaining the car park two hours later.
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Tasmanian Road Tour

Karen and Malcolm kindly lent us their four wheel drive and we blasted off into the Tasmanian wilderness. We headed north to a small village called Westbury via the scenic route alongside the great lake. We stopped briefly for a couple of short walks; one amongst some rare pencil pines, slow growing trees some of which were hundreds of years old; and another to a small waterfall through some impressive giant ferns, the tops of which were illuminated by bright sunshine that pebbledashed the forest floor.

Mags couldn’t do too much with her heel so I spent a day walking to Meander falls which was a fairly oppressive uphill climb through forest finally ending at the falls that, true to their name, were a mere trickle of water running into a rock pool below, but was a beautiful and peaceful spot for my packed lunch. This certainly was getting away from it all, as I only saw one other couple all day, and a solitary tiger snake which fled in one direction nearly as fast as I did in the other.

Strahan

Gradually we made our way West to Strahan, a small village that appears to be owned by one company; the accommodation, the cruise, and all three restaurants. Unfortunately for us, this monopoly has led to standards slipping as they clearly don’t have to try too hard to keep their customers. The food in the restaurants was truly terrible which is quite an achievement considering that the raw produce is superb. The main reason for visiting Strahan is to take the cruise along Gordon river into the rain forest covered with antique pines. The half day trip is fantastic with the still, wood stained river reflecting the forest all the way along its banks. There’s a brief stop for a walk in the forest with information boards dotted strategically around providing details of the unique flora. We also stopped at yet another old convict settlement at Sarah Island, where there is the option of a guided walk along the ruins. We detached ourselves from the group and generally wandered around for an hour.

We stopped at Queenstown on the way back to Hobart, a mining town stuck strangely in the past; the kind of place that Captain Kirk and Spock used to beam down to. The buildings had the wild west feel as seen by a 60s TV director, and looked as if they might be made of polystyrene. The locals also seemed strangely odd, as if they could be aliens masquerading as country folk.

Back in Hobart Karen and Malcolm completely spoiled us with day trips all over the place and Karen’s fantastic vegetarian cooking. We spent many idle hours on their terrace overlooking the river watching the ships sail by including the QE2 that was in the harbour for a couple of days.
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Thursday, March 22, 2007

Maria Island Walk

We arrived in Tasmania ready for a fortnight of hiking and, with military planning, had no idea what we were going to do. We were staying with our friends Karen and Malcolm who moved here a year ago from Brisbane. Karen brought out loads of tourist brochures on the first night and suggested the Maria Island walk that she’d read a favourable article about. We called up with the expectation that it would be fully booked, but were pleasantly surprised that there was one place left, leaving the next day. Ian, the owner of the firm, happened to live in the same district of Hobart, Taroona and came over 20 minutes later to show us what the walk involved. It looked fairly easy going and our heels had apparently healed, so we felt fairly confident

We set off the next day and met our fellow hikers and guides in the centre of Hobart, Pam, Jenny, Geoff, Anne, Lawrie, Naomi with our guides Stephan and Rosie. All Aussies and from Sydney except for Noami who lives in Melbourne. Typically, most tourists here are Australian as foreign tourists tend to do Sydney, the reef, and Uluru, and then run out of time.

We piled into our minibus and embarked on a gentle hours drive to the north where we boarded our private boat for the transfer to Maria Island. We were taken to a beautiful deserted beach to start our walk, where we jumped down into the shallows for our first taste of the cool crystal clear Tasmanian waters. Maria island is split into two distinct halves separated by an isthmus, a narrow sand bank that links the north and south parts of the island. We walked the short distance across the isthmus from one beach to the other where we were greeted by the rotting corpse of a seal. At least it kept the flies away from us. After a quick sandwich lunch we hauled our packs a short distance to our camp for the night. Yes, Mags and Gary camping – keep watching for those flying pigs. Each couple had a small, semi-permanent canvas cabin equipped with twin beds with foam mattresses. We slept in sleeping bags with the flap down and zipped to keep the bugs out so it was fairly comfortable. We can’t really claim to have been roughing it too much.

After settling in we trudged off on a hike across the southern part of the island to haunted bay. There’s a well worn path through the bush that takes about an hour at a brisk pace. Naomi charged off in front and we practically had to jog to keep up with her.

The end of the bush walk drops down steeply and clears to a large shelf of orange and green rock overlooking the bay. Stephan produced a few snacks from his backpack and we munched while watching dolphins and seals playing in the bay. Scrambling down the last few hundred metres, we encountered numerous fairly penguin fledglings, peering inquisitively at us from crevasses in the rock, where their parents make their nests. Some are surprisingly high up the cliff and it must be very hard work for the adult penguins to carry the catch up to feed the chicks.

On the way back Mags’ heel started to flare up again which wasn’t great as we had another 3 days of walking ahead of us. Back at base camp, we all made the short walk to the beach for a quick swim before dinner. This was also the only way really to wash as there are no showers at camp, just a composting toilet and some tank water from a small tap. The water was cool, but not cold, very invigorating. We all stuck closely to Jenny who is a life saver at Manley.

Later at camp we sat down to our first gourmet dinner cooked by Stephan, ably supported by the diminutive Rosie. The menu for the walk has been designed by top chefs, with complementary wines specially chosen. Our first meal consisted of scallops with black rice together with superb local Pinot Noir, really wonderful.

Next day we set off for a walk predominately along the coast northwards taking in five different beaches. This was easy walking which was just as well as Mags foot was deteriorating, but she limped along slowly at the back like a trouper. We paused at an old farm house. The island has a rich history, including its most recent use for agriculture. Now the whole island is a nature reserve with only one permanent resident, the park ranger. There are no cars, just a few cycle tracks and plenty of walking trails making hiking a very pleasant and peaceful experience.

We lunched under a tree near an old prison, its remains perched on top of a grassy hill overlooking the sapphire sea. These convicts must have been particularly unlucky to end up here; mainland Australia must have been a remote outpost back then (Well OK, it still is). But not content with that, these poor devils were expelled to the Island to the south, and then to an island off Tasmania. They might as well have been on the moon.

Our second camp was also conveniently located close to a beach where we again washed away the day’s exertions in the ocean. We became very excited at sighting two Cape Barren Geese that were wandering lazily along the beach. These protected animals are quite striking with their large blue, grey bodies and yellow beaks. They are very docile and let all of us get to within 5 metres or so to take pictures. It’s a good job for them that they are protected as they look like they would make a wonderful roast. They are probably roughly the same size as turkeys, but can fly really well. We needn’t have got so excited as we discovered dozens of them later in Darlington.

We had a relatively short walk to Darlington on our third day, although not without some excitement as Pam nearly trod on tiger snake that was sunning itself on the path. She noticed it just in time and it slithered quickly away into the bush. The tiger is one of 3 types of snakes found on Maria, all extremely poisonous. We had time on the way to spend a short time at the ‘painted’ caves. These are rock formations next to the beach with startling shapes and colourful stripes weathered by the sea.

Our base for our last night was an old colonial house beautifully restored to its former glory by Maria Island Walks, complete with a piano in the drawing room. We had a large room with a comfortable double bed and hot showers, sure bliss after our two nights in sleeping bags. Mags headed straight for the bath tub as she was all aches and pains by now and had limped in with gritted teeth. A few of us hardier souls decided to hike up Bishop and Clark, one of two hill walks available from Darlington. Naomi set off at breakneck speed as usual and, before long, the two of us were out of sight as we climbed steadily towards the peak. The more sensible walkers kept up a steady pace further back. The peak is 600 metres high and we inevitably slowed down as we trudged on. There’s a fair bit of clambering over rocks near the top, but we managed it without too much trouble and were joined at the top by Jenny and Rosie, the others having sensibly turned back to base. The views from the top are impressive, perched on the peak over a sheer drop of 600 metres to the sea below. We were feeling fairly pleased with ourselves when we were joined by a small group who were cycling around Tasmania. They had already cycled 70 kms that day and had hiked up here as an ‘extra’.

Darlington was initially established as a penal colony and later in the 19th century by the entrepreneurial Italian immigrant Diego Bernacchi as the centre of the island, and has been carefully preserved with interesting exhibitions in some of the many buildings left over from the previous settlements. One describes the story of William Smith O’Brian, a prominent Irish dissident who was exiled hereby the British for seeking Irish independence. Bernacchi seems to have been a man way ahead of his time. He tried wine making, tourism, and cement making on the island in a vain attempt to establish a prosperous settlement, but was doomed to failure.

On our last day we had the morning at leisure to explore Darlington before catching the ferry back around lunchtime. I spent a few hours strolling around town and decided to visit the nearby fossil cliff that, no surprise, is a cliff face of sedimentary rock containing countless tiny fossils from millions of years ago. It was these rocks that Bernacchi was turning into cement, but thankfully he left enough behind for scientists and tourists to examine.

The walk was a wonderful experience and we were lucky in having terrific guides and a convivial group comprising mostly of slightly more senior, ‘grey’ tourists. We were again the youngest, together with Naomi who is a nurse from Melbourne. She was great fun and a bit of a worry to all of us. At a rock pool near the painted caves she pointed to a Warratah Anemone and said to me, “Touch that Gary, it feels just like a pregnant cervix.” Given that I’m not likely to experience the real thing, or want to for that matter, I delved straight in.
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Saturday, March 03, 2007

Australia

Sydney
How yer goin’. We’re back in Straaylia.

We’ve been winding down seeing friends and family, and just trying to stay put for a while. We arrived in Sydney and were met at the airport by Mags’ sister Karen. We went straight to Ken’s place (Mags’ brother) and celebrated our arrival with a few bottles of crown lager. It was only 8 a.m but our body clocks were all over the place.

We spent a leisurely week at Kev and Jane’s place on the Port Hacking river doing not much at all; a quick swim in the morning was about all we managed. Their home is just like an, all in, holiday resort. You even get an early morning wake up call as Kev sets out for the bakery in the middle of the night. The new craze in chez Johnson is home brewing. Kev and his mate Gav brew up in Gav’s shed across the river. The brewing process naturally requires a few schooners to move things along, which seems to empty the keg alarmingly quickly. While we were there Kev was preparing for his 120th birthday party and decided to install a beer tap in the spare fridge. A fantastic labour saving device so he can now pour a beer without opening the fridge door – brilliant. We also moved the fridge to be conveniently located near to the deck for easy access. We did this while Jane was at work, and concocted a few “reasons” why it was a good idea to convince her. “No, it really does look good” was just about the best we could come up with. Not very persuasive, I admit. Anyway, Jane took one look at it on her return and we could just tell somehow that we weren’t going to win the argument.

Melbourne
After a restorative week of catching up and several long lunches we headed off for Melbourne to see our friends Helen and Barn, who are now living in Port Melbourne near where the ferry leaves for Tasmania every day. Melbourne is conveniently located close to two wine regions, Mornington Peninsula and the Yarra Valley. We thought it would be rude not to check them out so we all traipsed off for a quick tour and a crafty tasting or two. I think we all preferred the Yarra Valley of the two as we seemed to have better wine there, but that could just have been the particular wineries that we visited. Both regions specialise in Pinot Noir which is suited to the relatively cooler climate there. We had a very pleasant overnight stay in the Healsville hotel which has a superb restaurant attached, serving up the local produce with accompanying wine of course.

There seems to be massive 80’s revival here. Perhaps it’s the same at home. Disastrously, this even extends to Billy Joel whose songs seem to be played continuously on the radio. There was no escape. We popped into a bar at lunchtime to check on the Superbowl as, for once, the time difference was in our favour. (It’s on in the middle of the night at home). It was half time and, yes, Billy had that gig as well. At least this means that there’s less air time for Jimmy Barnes. I’ve only heard Khe Sanh once.

It’s amazing but nobody has mentioned the cricket to me (as if). Every time I open my mouth someone will have a few comments and some polite constructive criticism of the England team. I’m pretending to be Swiss with varying success. As it happened England were playing Australia in the first of the one day finals at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), or the “G” as it is now known locally. The ground has been completely rebuilt since we were last here and it really is a magnificent stadium. So it appears that Australians can build Stadiums after all. Perhaps we should hold the FA cup final there.

Well, we thought we’d go as the England team have obviously been missing my helpful suggestions from the boundary rope. Prior to the match, commentators thought it was more likely that George Bush would apologise for invading Iraq than England beat Australia but, low and behold, cobber, England did win. C’mon W, what about that apology?

We also discovered another activity that has been banned in the land of the “Not allowed” – the Mexican wave. The cricket authorities in their unparalleled wisdom had decided to forbid the pastime of all bored cricket fans around the world for safety reasons. In fairness to the ACB, some idiots had been apparently throwing heavy objects into the air as they threw their arms up and a few people have been injured. But anyway, as anybody could have predicted, banning the wave has only made it more popular. Also “not allowed” at the ground is proper alcohol, just mid strength beer, and some sickly alcopops (also mid strength). I scoured the bars in a vain attempt to purchase a glass of wine for Mags. At one I was advised that if I wanted a “drink for a lady”, that I should try one of the alcopops. Good to know that not all Australian stereotypes are dead yet.

Also new since we last visited and popular here is Wagyu beef, which is reared in the same way as Kobe beef, principally for export to Japan. We had a fantastic rib of Wagyu beef at Vue de Monde, one of Melbourne’s premier restaurants. It was served without a steak knife, which I initially though was odd, but there’s no need as the meat just melts in your mouth. Just superb, I just hope we start farming it back in the U.K.

As usual, the food is just fantastic in Oz. Melbourne is particularly blessed being so close to some of the best faming land in the country. There are two marvellous markets, Victoria and South Melbourne where small stall holders sell all the wonderful local produce, and to us, at incredibly low prices. People here just east like kings the whole time.

After all this food, we thought we’d better do some exercise as our next stop was Tasmania, and we were planning on doing a lot of hiking there. We set off for a seaside jaunt along the coastal path from Port Melbourne to Brighton, passing through St. Kilda. Somehow, we both managed to damage our Achilles tendons which was strange as neither of us had any problems before. The only reason we can think of is that we were wearing our hiking boots on a concrete path. So, next day, we could hardly walk which wasn’t the greatest preparation in the world.
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