A Whole Different Holiday!

From early afternoon on Saturday 27^th the pace of the trip suddenly changed. We have chugged gently along for the last 2 weeks, doing our own thing, no schedule to meet, no others to have to co-ordinate with… until we arrived at Melbourne.

The transition was relatively smooth. The shuttle bus picked us up on time, crammed itself full with about $1100 of passengers, and we got to the airport in good time. Check-in was straightforward apart from the slightly officious Qantas lady who insisted that we went to the section for everyone, despite the fact that we told her we only needed a bag drop. She totally negated the effort we had made to do an on-line check-in, and the only saving grace was that we hadn’t spent money on getting internet access! We went into security and as usual I saw the burly security guard pick on this small English lady terrorist and started rummaging through her rucksack. But this time he had caught his fish! In an effort to minimise weight in the checked baggage Mum had put Alistair’s little gift in her hand luggage. Not a problem apart from the miniature Stanley knife amongst all the other tools! Disaster loomed; you could hear the cocking of weapons in the firing squad…except that the guard was more than helpful. Obviously the confiscation option was present, but he suggested that Mum went back and checked in her small rucksack, and escorted her back to groundside to go to Qantas check-in. He came back to me and said that his concern was that the airline might charge her a hefty additional fee, more than the value of the package, but absolutely no problem and the drama didn’t end in a crisis. How nice to find pragmatism in airport security staff…yes, I did just say that! Of course, on her second transit through security the small English lady terrorist was taken aside by another staff member to make sure there was no explosive residue in her bag!

Arrival at Melbourne was prompt; bags, including the infamous feather-light Camelback rucksack that we thought might evaporate, appeared, and the MacMillan tribe arrived from all corners of the airport. Mum was whisked away by Susan and Clodagh to go to the final wedding dress fitting, and on to tea with the other godmother, whilst Alistair and Ben (Clodagh’s fiancé) accompanied me to collect the hire car (not a single mark on it!), a Nissan Tiilda, not a misprint, that’s what it says on the back, and then to Susan’s house to meet the 2 boisterous, but lovely, labradors. A quick cup of tea and then a short walk, for a “pot” in a pub, to watch some Aussie Rules Footie, a quick shop for provisions, though Susan had prepared a Britfam box for us, and a reunion with the ladies back at Susan’s.

Time was moving on and Susan had prepared a meal for us all, but I thought it best to check with the accommodation what time we had to check-in. It closed at 7 p.m! Gulp! We were a good 45 minutes away…even if our route were not to take us through the traffic and road closures created by the final practice for the Melbourne Grand Prix! Plan B swiftly moved into effect; all food, additional crockery and cutlery were piled into the car, Susan came with us to guide through the backstreets. Ben and Clodagh went for more supplies in their car…and the arrival time on the TomTom slowly ticked up from 18.55 to 19.03. With about 15 minutes to go a desperate further phone call to the reception to ask them to hang on a couple of minutes, and we made it in the nick of time. Vouchers, keys and cards were exchanged and we settled in. No time for unpacking – straight into the business of food preparation and we all sat down to supper and loads of raucous chat and laughter. There aren’t many others staying here – I hope it’s not our fault. The Macmillans left, we unpacked and collapsed.

Panic Tourism

With so many options for tourists in Sydney, it was hard to know where to go and what to do with our last day. Eventually we ended up at the Museum of Sydney, where again we were trapped by the fascination of learning about how the early settlers arrived, and the politicking of the early rulers of the area. Just like the political battles of will of today, it is difficult to decide who were the “good” guys and were acting with the best intentions, and who were the “bad” guys and were only motivated by selfish and greedy desires. We had already half planned to take a long ferry trip up-river to see a bit more of the surrounding landscape, but there in the museum was explanation of how Parramatta fitted into the governorship of the early province. It was enough of a temptation that we slipped out of the museum, down to Circular Quays, more coffee and sandwiches and then caught the ferry to Parramatta. The journey was 55 minutes and left us with one hour’s walking around the historic sights, and a rather nice genteel town, before catching the return ferries, first to Circular Quays, and then to Darling Harbour. We were going to treat ourselves to a last night out, but all the restaurants were heaving, and there was still the packing to do, so the Friday night tradition was continued and we picked up fish and chips and collapsed back at the apartment.

I’m not sure what the right length of time is to spend in the Sydney area. If you want the beach and sunbathing then you can select from any number of resorts. If you want the sights, zoos, aquariums, etc then there is at least enough to keep you going for a week. If culture and history grab you then you can be absorbed for another week, but the bottom line is that Sydney is a great place to visit for a holiday, and with weather that generally leaves you with the choice rather than making up your mind for you.

The Eastern Suburbs and Illawara Line, and the 333 Bus

All cities have areas that do not promote an aura desirable to attract tourists. Often you have to transit them to reach the iconic sights. We went to Bondi Beach today, outbound by train to Bondi Junction and then the 333 bus to Campbell Parade, which is the road that lines the beach, and returned all the way on the 333 bus to Circular Quays. The train ride was mainly underground, but in a perfectly acceptable if somewhat charmless but functional carriage. The bus journey was through a built-up area, both in Bondi and on the return through the eastern suburbs of Sydney, reminiscent of a cross between Leyton High Road and Putney High Street….unless they’ve both improved immensely since I was last there. Bondi Beach itself did not generate the breathtaking effect that all the hype would have suggested. It is a very nice bay, with a wide sandy beach and some nice-looking surf, but somewhere its history of sudden and fatal seas has given it a reputation greater than its actual attraction as a resort. Manly had areas of much greater attractiveness for me. The height of sophistication was a seafood bar, advertising in hand lettering:: "World Famous Deep Fried Mars Bar" - obviously some cultures travel better than others!

We walked to both ends of the bay, seeking any other reason for the reputation, and found 2 adjacent bays to the south, Tamarama and Bronte. The latter had a lovely couple of more sheltered bathing areas that we made use of, and though we can’t claim to have swum at the actual Bondi Beach, we were close enough and able to enjoy swimming rather than just being buffeted by the breakers.

Before catching the ferry back from Circular Quays to Darling Harbour we had a beer, where the young English barman (from Cambridge) seized quickly on our accents. He had been here for 7 months and was about to go travelling up the east coast via Cairns to Darwin, and then to drive to Perth. Good luck to him – the TomTom says it’s about 6000 miles.

Culture (no yoghourt involved!)

Today the weather dawned a bit uncertain with a bit of overcast, although the forecast was for an absence of rain. However, rather than head for the seaside again and be disappointed, we opted to do some of the city sights. First we ascended the Sydney Tower for a spot of high-level goofing, having been required to hand over my 2 penknives, presumably in case vertigo caused me to suffer a frenzy of pencil sharpening! It was well worthwhile, to be able to orientate all of the significant landmarks… and take some more pictures of the bridge and the Opera House. Part of the deal was to experience Oztrek, a cinematic simulator ride enjoying the sights of Sydney, Australia and its heritage (my words not theirs!). Walt Disney, MGM, Warner Bros, Alton Towers, Thorpe Park, Chessington…..don’t close down because of this competition! Of all the entertainments we have…and had in the past…expended money on, this was the least value, even if it had been free. Fortunately the Tower visit had been good value on its own, but the shabby vibrating seats, dim poor resolution forward screen, the blank right hand screen, and the naff cinematography gave a very poor impression. There is a lot of renovation work going on in and around the Tower at the moment, but they would have done better to reduce the price and close the “experience”. There, I feel better now!

Next we headed for the Hyde Park Barracks, which had been a reception point for some of the transported convicts between 1818 and 1848, and then transformed into a district court (same sort of thing as our County Courts) until 1978. Given the large scale of most buildings here, the size of the offices used was very small, and more reminiscent of a UK heritage than other places we see around.

A brief detour into St Mary’s Cathedral (Catholic) was fascinating, and educational. It was finished only in 1928, constructed in what looked like a pale red sandstone, though the fittings of some of the stained glass windows were given dates nearly 40 years earlier. Although the interior of Guildford Cathedral is very beautiful, it somehow never seems right to have used brick, because a stone exterior creates a much greater impression of grandeur. All of the statues were cloaked in purple cloth, explained as being because of Lent. We’ve never come across this practice in the UK, but it may be our ignorance, and a pity not to see all of the interior beauty, which otherwise was magnificent.

Rattling on we went to The Australian Museum, which as with all museum visits, didn’t leave enough time to take in all of the splendid exhibits. There seemed to be examples of the skeletal structure of all the indigenous mammals, stuffed birds of every single variety, pinned insects of every nasty form, all the marsupials and monotremes (look it up!), dinosaur models, and the most comprehensive display of rocks, crystals, minerals, and gems to make a budding geologist drool….and then we had to leave as it was closing time.

We meandered our way home via Chinatown, not very noteworthy, a mall purporting to offer designer outlet shops – no temptation at the current exchange rate, even if we had found any “designer names” that we recognised – and Queen Victoria Building – a beautiful old structure housing a mall with shops that don’t display prices (if you have to ask you can’t afford it). And there are still more places to visit….

Manly (the place, not posturing!)

After ascertaining that the weather was going to be kind (why wouldn’t it be?) we walked via the Post Office, where we took out a second mortgage on stamps for postcards, to the library to use the internet. Downloading on free access is perfectly acceptable, but it seems that uploading is severely limited, because trying to put photos on the blog is incredibly frustrating, especially if you make a mistake and have to repeat an action. I had lots more prepared for posting but only managed to add 2 posts before it became too frustrating to stay indoors rather than sightseeing.

We eventually reached Circular Quays and caught the ferry to Manly, about a 35 minute ride, past the Bridge and the Opera House of course. We had contemplated returning to see if there were any tickets, at our price, available for an opera, but once we had got to Manly there was no more thought of it as we took a dip in the sea and had a long walk past some of Manly’s heritage sights.

Sydney is very fortunate to have so many places where beach activities are possible, and none of them seem particularly crowded, though we are midweek. Everywhere has a sandy beach and the only restraint on the type of bathing is whether there is a surf effect. Where we went in it was pretty light but even then it is difficult to take a prolonged swim because of the breakers, and the power in them followed by the undertow makes one realise how strong real surf is. I admit to being briefly tempted by the thought of wanting a small board just to try out surfing, but only briefly.

Beer and chips followed before the ferry ride back, and the first use of the train system rather than waiting an hour for the next ferry. Getting full value of our TravelPass is essential and we haven’t been to Bondi yet, which has to done by train and bus.

On The Rocks

Just across the other side of Darling Harbour is a display of a submarine, a gun-armed destroyer, a corvette and a full-size replica of Captain Cook’s Endeavour, as well as a three-masted tall ship. These are all associated with the Maritime Museum, and being so close we couldn’t resist what we thought would be a “quick peek”. However, any museum of worth must be designed that visitors are sucked in to spending more time than anticipated with the fascination of their information and displays. No difference here for the history of exploration of New Holland/Australia, as well as the history of The Navy and the use of the sea by Australians. The most iconic exhibit? A small boat made entirely out of empty beer cans stuck together with tape, apparently sea-worthy, built for the annual Darwin Beer Can Regatta.

After a quick “lunch” in the apartment we went to an area called “The Rocks”, a part of Sydney which is where many of the oldest buildings remain. Although turned bijou for the tourists, it is still very interesting not to mention the fact that it has a high point on which an observatory was built. From here there are great views to the east and west, and of course the Bridge and Opera House. Finally there was the mandatory ferry ride home from Circular Quays, all still in the lovely mild darkness.

Sydney Sightseeing

There are 2 iconic sights in Sydney, the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, but this has done a disservice to many of the other places that are attractive to visit. We started Sunday morning by heading towards the ANZAC museum, and found our way barred by a St Patrick’s Day parade. It seems that wherever you go in the world there is an Irish Pub, and if you hit the week of St Patrick’s Day the Irish expect the whole world to stop for them. Eventually we found a way through via the underground of the Town Hall station, stopping to buy our TravelPasses which gives us access to all the government operated trains, buses and ferries for the week. The ANZAC memorial was interesting and rather beautiful, and we meandered through Hyde Park past St Mary’s Cathedral, several historic buildings and museums into the Botanical Gardens. Here there was an enormous din coming from the trees above, which proved to be territorial squabbles amongst the vast flocks of fruit bats. The shape of their flight is very like rooks or crows, apart from the fact they have a claw protruding from the leading edge of the wing, and when they get close enough you can see that their wings are membranes and not feather-covered.

Eventually we got to our first view of the Opera House, and after several attempts to get photos of each other with the icon in the background (it’s very difficult in bright sunlight without a viewfinder!) we arrived to find the end of a Greek gathering. My major impression was that the covering of the Opera House was less white and more creamy than I expected, but nonetheless very impressive. We are tempted to go to the opera whilst here but have yet decided.

The Harbour Bridge is….a bridge! I’m not sure why it is so feted other than the connection that it provides with the north shore. We eventually caught the ferry to sail under the bridge back to the wharf just outside the apartment, and collapsed before setting about a plan for the rest of the week.

A Tip for Car Rental Companies

When we came to return the car in Auckland the company had thoughtfully pointed out that there was a filling station adjacent so that we could make sure it was full on handover. Now Brisbane has 2 terminals, an international and a domestic one, about the same distance apart as Gatwick North and South. We checked that there was a return site at the domestic terminal, as we had picked it up from the international one, and although we fully intended to top up the tank before getting to the airport, suddenly found that there were no filling stations in sight on the motorway for the last 40 km. not to worry, we had checked in, had a good half an hour in hand and there was bound to be somewhere nearby at the airport. The recently-opened (earlier this year) new access route to the airport whisked us straight into the car rental return area, with not a sign of fuel anywhere. So we were left with the dilemma of paying over the odds for the company to do the job for us, with a hefty admin fee, or to retrace our tracks. A quick enquiry revealed that there was a filing station at the airport, at the international terminal on the old road into the airport. Why was it so difficult for the person at the rental desk, when we collected the car, not to have on her checklist for briefing customers where fuel was available? Especially in this case that there was a lack of filling stations on the motorways, and the new access bypassed the only one in the vicinity. Good job we had plenty of time to spare as the old blood pressure could easily have got up to wrath-venting level!

It was an uneventful passage thereafter, despite trepidations about our cases being 3 inches over the maximum stipulated dimensions (you have to add the 3 linear dimensions together, length, width and depth, and not exceed some arbitrary figure, for domestic flights 54 inches). I’d love to meet the “brain” that thought up this method because it doesn’t limit the volume in any practical way – see my Excel spreadsheet (not attached!). There is a reasonable weight limit, but if I can find the density of steel (next time I can get free internet access), I’d like to work out the weight of a 1 inch square steel bar 52 inches long – an interesting debate for not incurring charges for checked baggage.

The various transfer methods from Sydney airport to the city had exercised our investigative skills, and in the end I think we selected the best option. Pulling a carry-on style suitcase over a reasonable distance is straightforward, but the instabilities of a 23kg, 57-inch total linear dimension Delsey case, with only 6 ½ inches between the wheels, would have been too much for the third of a mile from the nearest railway station, certainly up the incline on the return. Thus the shuttle bus that serves all the downtown hotels seemed to do the job, and so it proved.

Apart from internet access being even more expensive than on the Gold Coast (we’ve already found the free library!) the Medina Grand Harbourside is brilliant. The studio room has 2 large TVs, full kitchen facilities (oven, hob and microwave), dishwasher, washing machine and tumble dryer. It’s so good that we need hardly go out, except…50 yards across the road is Darling Harbour, which after we’d done the supermarket shop just 300 yards up the hill, provided the most spectacular dusk scenery and being a Saturday evening had much of the local and tourist population out in their finery. We saw at least 3 hen parties, and loads of luxury cruisers setting out for dinner cruises.

Anyone for Swimming?

Being in a routine has one huge advantage – knowing where and when you can do your next laundry! Not being 100% sure what we were going to find in our apartment in Sydney, with respect to laundry facilities, meant that we wanted to be certain that we not caught out when returning Friday evening because someone else had commandeered the washing machine and tumble dryer. So the morning was in part dedicated to chores. Next was the need to avoid potential huge queues at the airport again, if we hadn’t done an online check-in. So off to the Gold Coast Public Library in Burleigh Waters, that we had ascertained the previous day had free internet access, to do the business. We were also able to do emails, update the blog, check the football scores and find out what the exchange rate was doing to decide whether to use cash or card!

And then we just had to find somewhere to go swimming! Now, that may sound relatively easy given the size of the coastline, but there appears to be only 2 grades of sea water available – b****y great surf or too-shallow-for-swimming calm waters. We tried 3 places with the above results and in the end, with a promise to ourselves that we are going in on Bondi Beach … whatever …we battled (it would be rush hour, wouldn’t it) back to the pool at the hotel for half an hour’s dusk swimming with exclusive use of the rather nice outdoor pool, just at the stage when it was becoming warmer in than out.

A fish and chip carry-out ensued (getting to be a Friday night tradition) because there are apparently no late-night supermarkets here (good for them!), where you can pick up a late salad, followed by packing and angst about how much time to leave for the morning’s journey to the airport.

Plat-billed Duckypuses, Rod Hull’s Chum and 3D

Thursday 18^th took a while to get going after the previous day’s excursion. General pfaffing in the morning, looking for non-existent pitch and putt courses, locating cinemas, libraries with internet availability (free!!), and supper shopping left us with an afternoon to spend in a small wildlife sanctuary (David Fleay’s Wildlife Park – look him up if you like), where we wanted to see more of the indigenous (or is it endemic?) fauna. Again the nocturnal habit of the duck-billed platypus, and the prohibition on use of flash photography, has left us with only blurred records of these funny little creatures, but at least we got to see them swimming like small otters in their tank. The breeding and release of them into the wild to try and sustain the species is one of the aims of the sanctuary. By the time we got into our tour, about mid-afternoon, there appeared to be hardly any other visitors and we had seemingly exclusive access to the keepers, who were delighted to chat about their charges. One girl spotted something on the back of one of the crocodiles, which we thought was just a large leaf, but promptly marched into the pen for a closer look. These were freshwater crocodiles that only grow up to about 7 or 8 ft long and have a much more pointed snout than the estuarine crocs, the males of which grow to about 5 metres. I doubt she would have rushed in quite so quickly if it had been an object on the back of the latter!

There were 2 large flightless birds, the emu and the cassowary. I guess that Rod Hull preferred the name “Emu” to “Cassowary”, because the latter had a far more interesting plumage (black with a blue and red head) and appeared much more lively and interactive than the emu. Just goes to show that marketing is all about having the right name. There were many types of marsupials, mostly with endearing faces that looked as if they would make friendly pets, and a tree-dwelling kangaroo! No, look it up if you don’t believe it! The koala seemed totally bored with life until the keeper whacked it with a eucalyptus branch she was putting in for its supper, and then it moved much quicker than in any films I’ve ever seen. She had previously chatted to us about the pair of dingoes, which although they are related to wolves not dogs, looked very affable and pet-like. She was obviously very attached to them and said that they were a pair of “big softies”. Probably would be until 28 more of their chums appeared, and then it might be a different story. Just like in New Zealand it was great to see these creatures in their own country, and in a reasonably un-zoo-like environment.

For the evening we treated ourselves to the 3D version of Avatar. No cheaper than in the UK, in fact probably more expensive but very comfortable cinema seats and a very empty cinema. We have to admit to being impressed by the 3D special effects, but don’t ask us to explain the plot – was the ending the same “alternative body experience” that that episode of Star Trek concerning the crippled former Enterprise Captain wanted? Answers in an email or a text please!

We had our last encounter with Australian wildlife when we got home from the cinema. I’m still not sure that Mum is convinced that I wasn’t imagining it, but as I was ferreting (good choice of word!) for something in the wardrobe a furry brown streak followed closely by a long-tail scampered along the base of the cupboard, turned the corner under a plastic bag and disappeared I know not where. The next day when Mum reported it, she was told that we were, of course, in the bush and you can’t get rid of all the animals. Another episode of Fawlty Towers for Australian TV titled “The Whingeing Poms”?

Brisbane

We didn’t want to leave the area without having knowledge of Brisbane city. Elizabeth Macky had whetted our appetites by saying that she had changed her mind about it and now thought it was a lovely place. The concierge at the hotel recommended taking the train as the most convenient method and equally as cheap as taking the car and paying high parking charges. Unable to take advantage of the 50% Seniors’ discount without a state pension book we had to pay full day return fare, which given that we are probably further away than Guildford is from London still seemed reasonable at under £10.

The heritage of Brisbane, as being one of the areas for penal colonies, is evident in the number of English place names, and we started our tour from Southbank station. The river that passes through the city is a similar size to the Thames, and meanders in a very similar fashion. The views of the bridges and the high-rise on the opposite bank was, therefore, very reminiscent…apart from the sunshine and the comparative lack of traffic fumes. There are some magnificent art galleries, museums and a huge library, which with free Wi-Fi could not be passed. On the north side of the river there are a number of 150+ year-old buildings that appear to be, from the outside, beautifully preserved, although surrounded by new skyscrapers. When we eventually crossed to the north bank we arrived at a Farmers’ Market which had some fabulous produce, and if we had taken 3 circuits in the right direction we could have done a 3-course meal from the samples on offer. As it was we had a Cornish pasty each, literally straight out of the oven, and needing a 10-minute walk to find a seat to allow them to cool down, and excellent they were too.

We followed a recommended walking tour route and ended up, via the Botanical Gardens, at the Queensland University of Technology. I suppose that the students get used to their surroundings but first impressions were that it might be very difficult to work given the distraction of the stunning environment. We made a final loop to Roma Street Parkland as it got dark to find the sporting types all out doing their training, under the marauding swooping of the fruit bats, as big as large crows, before heading back to catch the train home.

With longer to spend in the area the city is certainly worth at least another day’s visit, as we hardly touched the cultural exhibitions, and from a sight-seeing aspect is definitely a very lovely place.

The Hinterland

Although the Gold Coast is renowned for its beach and surf, just a few miles inland is a range of hills/mountains that provide some spectacular views and charming countryside. On the Tuesday we decided to see for ourselves what it was like and the most advertised area is Tamborine Mountain. Only a half an hour’s drive and a few hairpin bends later we turned into a delightful village street in Tamborine called “The Gallery”. It was obviously kept twee for the tourists but it was a very attractive row of old style shops and houses.

There are lots of walks advertised and a few tourist attractions but we decided to try a couple of short walks. It took us a few minutes to realise that we hadn’t protected ourselves from the local insect population, and we hastily smeared ourselves with repellent but not before some damage had been done. A sign that got the attention was one that said “Step over The Snakes” – as if we wouldn’t! Large cobwebs hung over our heads in places, with spiders the span of your hand waiting to eat the ensnared English tourist. Even talking about them now I can feel the goose bumps start to rise.

Sun, Sea, Sand and (Sangria?)…Surf! – Day 2

Monday morning dawned bright but showery. Although we had not been disappointed by the commercialism of Surfers Paradise, we detected all the classic effects of tourism. Nevertheless, the region is still beautiful, with many inland waterways, reminiscent of the Miami style, and a plethora of waterside dwellings.

We decided to visit other parts of the Gold Coast to see whether there was a less “tacky” region. Dragging ourselves away from the novelty of TV coverage of the tennis from Indian Wells and Premier League football on Fox Sports delayed our departure. Eventually we made our way further south to Coolangatta, where the regional airport is. Here was a much more tranquil seaside town, with far less indication of the global commercial virus, and almost exclusively local names on the businesses. Still there were the high-rise apartment and hotel blocks, but the broad beach was beautiful and plenty of surf for those who wanted. We picked our way northwards along the coast looking for other equally attractive sites, and ended the day at Burleigh Heads. Here was the whole spectrum of surfing. In a sheltered part were the nursery waves on which to learn the fundamentals of falling into water from a plank, whereas just around a headland huge breakers provided the near-ultimate adrenalin surge for those who wanted to fall off planks and receive a cuff around the ear from said plank for being so stupid and/or incompetent. We couldn’t get over how many people packed themselves into such a small area in the water – it was just amazing there weren’t more collisions. Signs on the shore explained the etiquette and right of way rules for surfers – totally unintelligible for the non-cognoscenti.

The funniest sight of the day was reminiscent of the old cartoon strip from the Daily Mirror called The Perishers (I don’t know if it’s still published). In it the family dog, an Old English Sheepdog called Boot, used to visit rock pools when on holiday and the crustacean life used to regard the annual appearance of “The Eyeballs in the Sky”, as some sort of quasi-religious experience. We saw a shaggy pooch doing exactly this act, standing motionless in a 12-inch deep pool for ages, peering intently for movement, and when the smallest of fish darted into view, it tried to trap it with its paw. We never saw any success, but the dog would not be distracted and we watched it over a period of at least 15 minutes. The joys of being by the sea and the entertainments it brings!

Sun, Sea, Sand and (Sangria?)…Surf! – Day 1

Not wanting to make use of the restaurant for breakfast we decided on Sunday morning (14^th) to visit a nearby market. It was huge, but most of the café stalls were not wholly appetising and in the end we settled for coffee and toasted banana bread, which, by the time the research had been completed, went down extremely well. Nevertheless, we were able to buy provisions for the week from non-supermarket sources, and mostly cheaper and more environmentally ethical! Woo-hoo!

Exploring the region then started at the nearest seaside town, Broadbeach, a short way south of Surfers Paradise, which we quickly gravitated to, interrupted only by a quick dash back to the car to shelter from the tropical-type shower. We had noted a recommended café from the guide, which was off the beaten track though still near the town centre, but because of the time taken for shopping and sheltering, had finished its lunch menu, and so it was another healthy coffee and biscuit. So what to do about lunch?

I had read in the guide of a churrascaria further north. The name struck excitement in my heart because I knew of the menu/cuisine from my Brazilian visits. Basically it’s a barbecue in which several thousand waiters, with several million swords holding every sort of meat or meat product known to man, visit your plate and fill it to overflowing until you tell them to stop…which in my case was always 6 helpings too late! Jock Reid will be gratified to discover that our jinx on restaurants around Surrey and Sussex, finding that they had gone out of business when we tried to book, IS ALL MY DOING, not his! We eventually found the address, but with a different name and cuisine, having changed about 2 years ago. Date of the guide book publication? October 2008! But there was a happy ending; the restaurant had an “Every Meal Half Price” offer that ended that day – bring on the ribs and fries!!

Trying to walk off the effects afterwards we discovered the ideal job opportunity for a certain helicopter pilot we know – next door to the pleasure-flights in helicopters was the 6 – 8-seater hovercraft pleasure trips….and of course some of the best surfing conditions within a kilometre.

G’day, Gold Coast!

I suppose if you have to travel cattle class, then doing it between New Zealand and Australia is as good a place as any. No hitches getting through customs, though again that suspicious looking little lady was taken aside for an individual body scan. We obviously had to meet a pleasant customs officer to explain our admittance on the declaration that we were carrying illicit Marmite. He also asked if we had any soil on our shoes! The temptation to reply: “No, we’ve only walked on water” passed before it formed on my lips, and we feigned total surprise and innocence in our denial.

The rental car, a blue Hyundai Getz, was as new and unmarked as the previous one was not. It’s smaller but no problems with baggage, but it does have the most infuriating design characteristic – the indicators are on the right and the windscreen wipers on the left! I always used to cite a lack of standardisation in aircraft flight decks as being the nadir of human factors, especially where functions were reversed in location or sense, and spoke about watching cars turning left without indication but with their wipers going in the dry, or driving in the rain without wipers, whilst indicating to turn right. I’ll get used to it, hopefully before the accident!

The accommodation was easy to find after a 70-minute drive, thanks to the newly-awake TomTom. It’s fine but I guess we’d got used to having more kitchen functionality, and using my penknife to cut bread is an interesting operation. There is Internet availability in each room but at nearly £10 a day or £42 per week it’s easy to resist.

Oh, and it rained, proper tropical rain, not your temperate drizzle but real 10-minute flooding stuff. Never mind it’s warm.

Goodbye Aotearoa

We had been in touch by text with Jock Reid during the previous day and had hoped to meet up before departing. We spoke briefly on the Saturday morning, and it was obviously not going to be possible, but in our brief telephone conversation he extolled the virtues of the South Island where they had been. If it is that much nicer than the North then it clearly is like paradise. Making the long journey here is definitely worthwhile and has to be done again, even if the queues at check-in in Auckland get worse. There was a flight leaving for Los Angeles and the procedures for going to the USA take so long apparently. Even having checked-in on-line we had quite a wait and the 90% who hadn’t must have been getting incredibly frustrated.

Pam has been the perfect hostess for our time with her, and we felt so helpless that we were leaving and she would be without her car until it was fixed. She was completely philosophical and said she didn’t really need it for the next few weeks. Understandable, because she is within walking distance of all her daily needs and has the wonderful beach to walk on whenever she wants. It was nearly the reason to jump ship but Australia beckoned and so we bade our farewells.

Back North

Friday morning had us all packed and on the road again, with the plan to visit some spectacular underground cave formations at Waitomo. Pam and Elizabeth were leaving soon after us and we would meet again at Pam’s for the night, before flying to Brisbane on the Saturday.

Although south of Hamilton (about halfway between Auckland and Taupo) there are no dual carriageways, the roads are all fairly good, though subject to widespread roadworks, and even the trucks clip along at the national speed limit of 100 km/hr, only slowing on the steep inclines where there are usually overtaking lanes. Progress is therefore pretty predictable. We got to Waitomo in good time, but were rather disappointed that the prices of the various tours were much more expensive than most of the other excursions we had undertaken. We decided to go for the short cave walk and boat ride through the caverns almost lit but the myriads of glow-worms – very much Walt Disney meets Phantom of the Opera – but satisfying not to have missed it.

Despite the traffic advisories we ploughed back on up the route until sure enough, about 40 km south of Auckland we ran into the classic M25 scenario and were cursing that we had not known the area well enough to make a detour, when I spotted a car identical to Pam’s and with a very familiar registration plate, just pulled in to the side of the motorway. I pulled in front and it was then that we spotted that there was front end, nearside damage. She had been involved earlier in a “fender-bender”, not bad enough to make it undriveable, but unbeknown to her she had ruptured the cooling system and after about 15km more driving had had the big red light come on and had stopped. We were just by an on-ramp and soon a police car pulled up to tell us we couldn’t stop there, but were very quickly understanding that there was no option, and made sure that all was under control (Pam was in touch with the AA and her insurers). It was just a matter of waiting for the tow truck to arrive and amazingly we were able to transfer all the additional bags and provisions into our rattle-trap, as well as the 2 additional passengers, and after what seemed an eternity were on our way again. Whilst waiting we were hailed by a passing car with 2 strange (to me) flags sticking from the rear window. Pam recognised the passenger who wanted to make sure all was well, as a renowned Maori politician and activist. He obviously knew how important we were and wanted to get in our good books!

Hence, the earlier reference to taking Elizabeth home and seeing her lovely apartment. It’s obviously not cheap but as an old people’s residence I don’t ever recall seeing anything so desirable in the UK. Eventually back at Pam’s we took service of the nearby fish and chip shop, and retired to bed after a somewhat eventful day for all.

Down South

And so we set out at Wednesday lunchtime to meet up at the bach near Ohakhune. We had thought that we would spend some time exploring Taupo and the area around Lake Taupo. There was less publicity for sightseeing in the area, and given the available time we simply drove straight through, though enjoyed the beauty of the lake and its surrounding scenery, and puzzled at the seeming lack of tourist development apart from in Taupo itself. It was quite difficult to even find a café for a pitstop, though the small village and marina where we chose to picnic, was blissfully peaceful, with black swans, whose presence was not thought by the locals to be as welcome as we felt.

Following Pam’s expert cartographic layout, we had no trouble finding the remote dwelling though I doubt it would have been easy just by a verbal briefing. It was even difficult to make out the track across the field, and although not isolated, because there were other baches in the vicinity, it did make us think of Bilbo, without roads. The view from the sitting room was of Mount Ruapehu, the largest mountain in the North Island, and a dormant volcano. It was shrouded in cloud for most of our time there, and though early on Thursday morning it revealed itself, sadly the single photographic record was blurred as the camera decided to focus on something on the window instead.

We spent the next 36 hours in a totally relaxed indigenous environment, enjoying gentle walks, local café food (the coffees in NZ have been, without exception, really good), driving up into the cloud to the local ski resort, reminiscing about the past and families, playing parlour games, and generally having stimulating conversation with 2 incredibly intelligent and vibrant ladies. We couldn’t get over how forward looking and thinking Elizabeth, who is approaching 87 and has very poor eyesight, was. She is coming to Europe in May and maintains enormous vigour and independence. She enjoys coming to her bach because she can use the oven for baking cakes and bread, only having a microwave in her apartment in Auckland. We took her there (more anon) when we got back. It has the most spectacular views, and she maintains about 18 gardens for the benefit of all the residents. Truly, a wonderful lady to be admired.

The local farmer, whose land was bought many years ago to build the bach on, popped in for tea and biscuits, before moving the cattle from one adjacent field to another. Don’t for heavens sake let the Australian authorities know that we were anywhere near a farm – we would probably be turned back from the immigration.

Steaming Soil, Bubbling Mud and Funny Faces

The first priority for us in the Geo-Thermal region of Rotorua (Tuesday 9^th) was to see some of the geological wonders. We went to Waiotupo, which was generally recommended as the best site for the experience. Of course there was the pong, but loads of brilliant colours, steaming lakes, craters, bubbling sludge, and nicely presented education about the history and geology of the region. Definitely it was a tick for the whistle-stop New Zealand tourist.

Next on the must-see list was endemic fauna (look it up if you have to!). There was a small nature park called Rainbow Springs that promised Kiwis, which could not be omitted on any visit to NZ. We already knew that they were nocturnal creatures, so an afternoon spent saying hello to many other of the strange and endearing creatures was followed by a quick dash to PizzaHut for an endemic deep crust, before returning to the hushed cages. Here they breed, protect them from introduced predators like possums and rats, and then try to release the Kiwis back into the wild. We were able to stand in the dark by a knee-high wall as they poked their beaks over the wall to sniff us, before continuing their forage for grubs in the undergrowth. Sadly, no flash photography was permitted and the only record achieved was of sharply focussed shrubs with a brown blur, as they failed to pose stationary long enough for the long shutter exposure. Nevertheless, it was a real treat to have the experience of being that close.

Talking of being that close, the earlier experience of sharing a cage with some Keas, a large and mischievous parrot-like bird, whilst listening and watching David Attenborough’s treatise on the large screen TV, was also wonderful. These are highly intelligent birds, though nearly more destructive to vehicles than the chimps in Longleat or the local car-breakers.

Finally, on the following morning, before setting out to the south of the Tongariro Range to meet Pam and Elizabeth, we took in more of the Maori culture at a village called Whakarewarewa. No, I don’t know why so many Maori place names seem to have the last syllable repeated, but now I know that the language never used to be written down and only in the last 150 years or so was it recorded by a German, who used the same phonetic pronunciation as the Germans, and the language only has 5 vowels and 9 consonants. More? No, look it up yourself! What was fascinating was the sense of community and the use of communal facilities for cooking and bathing in the naturally provided hot springs. Apparently they enjoy boiled meat too! We were treated to a short Maori stage show, which gave them a chance to go through the whole range of facial expressions, and sing a few songs that sounded very familiar. Again, it felt like we had got a good flavour of the local culture.

Russell – Auckland – Huntly – Rotorua

Instead of retracing our tracks from Russell we took advice that the ferry to Opua would save a lot of time, and so it proved as were back at Whangerei a good half an hour quicker than travelling northbound. A recommended coffee stop at Warkworth, The Honey Centre, allowed us to watch bees at work in their hives through transparent walls, and to have their body language explained, as they communicated the direction and distance of the pollen source to the other inmates.

Once on to the major road north of Auckland we made much more rapid progress than anticipated and stopped at the Tourist Information site at Huntly to ask for recommendations for accommodation and optimum sights to visit in a limited time. As I have said earlier the service provided at these places is absolutely first-rate, and seemingly without any financial additions. A good motel at a reasonable rate was booked for us, and positive statements about where to go and where not.

Rotorua had many of the layout hallmarks that are typical of an American town, when you first encounter it – the used car lots, McDonalds next to Burger King, wide boulevards nicely manicured, car parking spaces that didn’t require dieting before getting in or out of a car – but uniquely wafted the slight odour of sulphur into tranquil corners. It was strange how open street junctions seemed to have clean air where a breeze was blowing but alcoves and shop doorways, where it was sheltered, had that aroma of rotting eggs…if you’ve ever smelt rotting eggs.

The motel was good with very welcoming and helpful owners, who provided advice on where to prioritise our short time and, as it turned out, were on our wavelength.

We wandered into town for some shopping and supper. After looking at every menu we chose a restaurant called Fat Dog, not for the name but because they had one of those chalkboard menus that told it like it was. Now I’m not one to leave a plate uncleared, but for the record: if ever you are in Rotorua, feeling peckish, and fancy a steak sandwich with potato wedges, go to Fat Dog. I left about a third of the wedges!!

If it’s Sunday then we must be in….?

[Just to add a bit more to the last post]

After the 12-hour experience of the previous day, the jet lag sort of caught up with us, and with not having to leap out of bed early we “veggied” a bit and had a leisurely start on Sunday. But we were soon back in the throes of whistle-stop tourism and off on the ferry to Pahia for a recommended walk through the forest to a lookout point that gave us a panoramic view across the Bay of Islands.

Lunch was had on a café balcony under the watchful gaze of the local bird population, who pounced on the remains as soon as consumers departed. They seem to have no fear of humans but are sufficiently respectful to wait for their turn. Laundry duties ensued on return to the motel and pre-packing for the next day’s journey south. We decided not to spend too many longish days in the car, and opted to make a long dash for Rotorua, to use it as a centre for a couple of days.

Northland

Friday morning dawned sunny … again, and we were soon on the road, north-bound to the Bay of Islands. We had booked a motel room the previous morning from Takapuna in Russell. Surrey County Council and the New Zealand authorities seem to have made a pact to slow traffic via roadworks, though here they do at least seem to improve the road surface after having interrupted the traffic. After a lunch break in Whangarei, we headed for Russell via the “scenic” route…which is what it was, but involved 66km of tortuous twisting road, with bends not quite sharp enough to slow right down but sharp enough to make it a fun introduction to rally-cross, for the driver if not the passenger!

Russell is one of the original European settlements in New Zealand, and maintains the atmosphere of ages gone by. Heavy reliance is placed on water transport; there is a car ferry to Opua and a passenger ferry to Pahia. It's a fun way of getting shortcuts, given the alternative of a lengthy and twisty road journey. Our motel was comfortable and convenient but modcons like internet were a step too modern.

We had pre-booked an excursion on the Saturday, a coach tour to the northern-most tip Cape Reinga, via 90-mile beach (actually 64 miles but originally based on the Maori belief of a 3-day walk from one end to the other at 30 miles a day). It involved catching the 7 a.m. ferry to Pahia, not a problem waking up given the time difference. It proved to be an excellent decision as the driver/guide was an entertaining mine of information on history, geography, geology and Maori language and culture, as well as being a sports fanatic.

The following day we re-crossed to Pahia and took a recommended walk to a high point from which views of the whole Bay of Islands were to be had. Postcards and laundry, the essentials of any trip, followed and it was already packing time for the return south.