The road Trip

Unfortunately out of order as it has taken some time to get around to writing about it but this is day three of NZ trip!!!

I like road trips and I am looking forward to the scenery on this one which will take us along almost the length of South Island. Shame then it starts like a mutilated line from the Ancient mariner, ‘Fog, fog everywhere so thick I cannot think.’ How do the locals survive in these low lying villages where you can’t see your hand in front of your face until midday? And yet I see houses, or do I...

When finally we clear the fog fields around Te Annau, the mountains appear again. I look out of my window absorbing them and the accompanying green fields and mats of dark brown earth; I realise I've forgotten what’ real’ soil looks like after eighteen months of the Aussie red stuff. A bright yellow bird flies across in front of the car and I shoot around to try and make out what it is but it’s gone. The bird life is plentiful and pretty here, as it is in Oz.

We see lots of churches and we chat about our travels around Oz and New Zealand. It’s curious that as areas become less populated, the numbers of churches seem to increase. The local style reminds me of something from the ‘Little House on the Prairie’: small, seating a congregation of thirty or so and clapperboard white completed by one small steeple. They are the standout building feature of these parts. The surrounding natural beauty of South Island however easily outclasses them. A friend told me you come here for nature not for the architecture or any of the other pulls of civilisation. I agree. Throughout the drive today I find the lack of signs of human habitation a joy; how glorious the land is when left to its own devices.

The few man made interruptions continue to diminish until finally we are down to the odd shed and a disappearing fence. There are few power-lines. There is no forcing of the land into artificial boundaries.

By eleven it turns into another beautiful day; the sunshine plays with the mountain faces we pass turning grey shadows of snow suddenly brilliant white as they fall under the spell of the sun’s rays. Some of the fields lay in the shade of the closer mountains snowy jags and here the grass stays frost wizened until the first glints of sunshine break through to warm them. The trees are not like home and to me they resemble their Aussie cousins with pale skeleton trunks and patches of foliage, no wide gnarled dark brown and dense broad leaf of home.

Nearer to Queenstown the mountains close in. They seem so much higher. The Remarkables range comes into view and then appears the cobalt blue waters of Lake Wakatipu. I see rainforest slipping into the waters either side of the lake and stretches of beach with large hunks of stone sometimes on the shore, sometimes peeking from the water. The colour of the lake dazzles me so at first I do not notice the small tide. We stop the car and walk down to the gravel beach to admire the vista. Here I can now see waves arriving at our feet. Grant tells me no one knows what causes them; this is not a sea lake. There is a ten centimetre rise and fall every five minutes. I love these mysteries of nature. Up close the water is a copper blue and as I look up there are so many mountain ranges it is difficult to know where one starts and another finishes. I love it here.

We drive on and overhangs of rock begin to throw us in shadow. Amongst the pampas like grass growing on the mountain edges we see sheep again climbing the steep hillside. In fact everywhere today they have been dotted like boulders, all the same variety when we get close enough to make out their features. The flocks are huge. The sheep’s wool has becomes whiter closer into town; presumably due to the decrease in swede fields we see (sheep who eat swede turn amusingly orange a bit like a tango ad).

Today we whizz through Queenstown. On the other side we stop for a break, at a Bungy jump centre and watch some of the nutters. I do not have to contemplate doing it, it isn't necessary. Caitlin says she would have a go but I’m not so sure she would if we actually said yes.

The next valley on is Roaring Meg Valley. It is filled with colour, heather in earthy purple, tanned browns in the rock and burnt orange from exotic bushes which glow in the landscape like embers in a spent fire. There are craggy crevices and, sharp leafless trees. The river ‘Roaring Meg’ is more of a whisper at the moment.

Don’t stop at Cromwell. The cafe looks good for a spot of lunch but:

‘We don’t have coke; no we don’t have diet coke either’,

‘No we can’t serve pumpkin soup the kitchen is closed now for lunch. You missed it. ’, It’s 1.30pm.

‘No I’m not joking; we can’t serve anything on that board’,

‘What have we got that’s healthy? What about those cold sausage rolls?’

Never mind, the lake that follows is beautiful and the snow fields above it pristine white with a cloud haze. As I look at the lake’s waters from the car I see another clear mountain looking back up at me.

The next town is Omarama. It is on a mountain plain and we see our first sign for Christchurch, our destination for the evening. The Wrinkly Rams Sheep Shearing is the main attraction in town. Omarama does have an airfield however for biplane flights, glider flights and parachute jumps. It would be awesome to have a go in this scenery but I can’t really see Caitlin and Ciara wanting to jump out of a plane and that’s my excuse anyway. I can see why NZ is the adventure capital of the world.

On the high plains between Omarama and Twizel , another lake this time of light blue surrounded by some small trees with more burnt orange stems. Twizel is a hydro electric town. There is a sign for a salmon farm

We drive the road between two lakes. At Lake Pukaki we can look straight up the still waters to Mount Cook, NZ’s highest Peak reigning over its neighbours in the alpine ranges. Their edges are softened by a cloudy haze. There is a house opposite the lake. It is the only one for miles. What a view to get up to every morning: I feel the need to commit a crime.

‘What’s the number of the hotel room in Christchurch?’ asks our youngest. The spell breaks for a moment.

Another mountain plain, it feels very remote up here. All the mountains are now completely white; we must be very high. The green fields have given away to dried grass and pale brown soil. We sight a beach hut on the side of the road. As we pass it we see a sign overhead, ‘Irishman Creek’, very amusing...

There always seem to be mountains in the distance but we never arrive at them. It takes another three hours of driving before we reach Christchurch, tired but glad we did it.

Finals Fever!!

Who would have believed it, St Kilda again in Grand Final. Impossible to get on telly though and do I really ant to be at an Aussie pub in London at 4am on Saturday.

Singapore

We stopped off in Singapore for 24 hours to break up a 20 hour flight.

If you like mad, mayhem, bright lights, rammed in like sardines, and 100% humidity then by all means go, but it wasn't really my cup of tea. To be fair there were an endless succession of boutique clothes shops on Orchard Road, so still not my cup of tea.

Singapore's population is approx 5M, which is only 1M more than Melbourne. It feels waay more packed in/high rise though - I've since found out its the worlds second most densely populated "country", ceeding first place to Monaco.

We spent our day at Universal Studios on Sentosa. It was a nice treat for the girls and we went on pretty much everything - luckily the double roller coaster/upside down thing: Galactica was closed for maintenance. I do recommend the Mummy's revenge though. Backwards steeply swooping roller coasters aside some of the effects were pretty amazing.

Late evening we arrive at Changi for our final leg of the journey to the UK. Again we are on a Singapore Airlines A380. I admit to having flown business class with a few airlines now and they are all really similar in terms of great quality food, and nothing is too much trouble service. The Singapore stand out feature though has to be the chair: Its so ludicrously large that they have a large bolster/cushion, presumably to stop you sliding sideways. Ciara and I comfortably sat side by side for over 30 mins watching my "telly".

Next stop Britain.

Badly caught wave

2 days until we leave and finals season fever is kicking in big time on the telly, in every cafe, supermarket checkout queues, playgrounds, you name it.

Final Countdown

BTW - That's 7 days to go before we head for Singapore - merde!

Farewells

OMG - Hear we are everything packed, leaving the house we've lived in for the last 18 months, heading off for a serviced apartment for the last few days.

Despite the 3 weeks of dead heating in the middle of winter, the Melbourne experience of Possum jumping up and down on the roof, and realising that open plan although conceptually nice isn't really practical, I've really enjoyed staying here.

Milford Sound

Another early start, this is becoming a nasty holiday habit. Our journey progresses in the dark and even when the sun rises it is difficult to see through banks of fog swirling and collecting in low lying hamlets. We pass in and out of these pockets of eeriness; at their edges they seem to melt away as I look out through the car window.

The worst of the visibility is just before Te Anua whose inhabitants live next to another picturesque lake. We will return here this evening. But it is after this that the scenery really becomes dramatic again. Now the mists clear and the sun shines brightly on dense dark green rainforest covering the mountains slopes which jut against the roadside. I struggle to see any gaps in the trees. A particularly awesome spot is called Knobby’s Flats (Kiwis seem to share the Aussies way of naming things). We fight through the coaches of tourists all trying to capture the same shot: humans in the foreground and Knobby’s in the back.

The next stop is the mirror lakes, no prize for guessing where they derive their names from, though the water is so still it is actually hard to distinguish at times what is real and what is reflected.

There are lots of places to stop and take photos of the rugged beauty: sharp angular rises, spiky jags, serried ranks with no regimentation, narrow passes, mountain peaks swaddled like babies in white blankets, slopes heavy with snow to the point of avalanche, dry riverbeds with big icy boulders and frosted sparkle in the early morning sunshine. Shortly before the Homer Tunnel, the last obstacle before Milford Sound we stop at a beautiful spot. It is so peaceful; all you can hear are the calls of parrots from the rainforest as you gaze at the back of the peaks that are building up towards Milford Sound.

After we drive through the tunnel the vistas open up. There is a Maori legend which tells of a great warrior that uses his giant green axe to carve out the Sounds along Fordland and as time goes on his skill increases, finally he reaches Milford Sound where his true mastery is unveiled. I believe it at this point. Wow.

Milford Sound should actually be called a Fjord and not a Sound. Fjords are valleys produced by glaciation, forming steep vertical cliffs extending deep under water whilst a Sound is formed when the sea floods a river valley. Whatever the technical jargon the result is unforgettable. I began missing it the day after our visit.

We board a boat, the Milford Mariner, a crusty sailor’s choice for sure and maybe named because Albatrosses can be sighted from the decks if you are lucky. The voyage takes place in glorious sunshine; we are very lucky: this place receives seven metres of rainfall a year. I think we are lucky for many reasons, as we sail close to the cliffs edges and I peer down through the waters to the rock below before catching sight of the waterfalls like rainbow veils; I feel as if I could reach out and lift them up. The pot of gold lies in the beauty of this arresting place.

Even the wildlife lines up for our perusal, fur seals basking on the rocks. I see a bird swimming underwater towards us before realising it is a seal cork screwing under the surface. Then as we exit the mouth of the Fjord and the Tasman Sea opens out, we see a pod of dolphins. The girls giggle and run either side of the deck to watch these glorious mammals’ shapes as they swim under our boat. ‘Bottle nosed dolphins’, one of the crews tell us as we watch the dolphins play in the sunshine, jumping out of the water but too quick for our camera.

I can see turquoise waters as the boat turns around, they are overlying small sandbanks as the cliffs veer to the left. The sheer scale of the land makes it difficult to comprehend what we see. We are told the Stirling Falls we pass on our return are three times the size of Niagara but next to their neighbouring peak they shrink. We take lots of photos of Mitre Peak as we return and you can see why it gets its name, closely resembling a Bishops’ hat. This stunning sight is actually a set of five peaks but it appears as one as it reaches just over a mile up into the pale blue sky.

We stay the night at Te Anau but rather than take a break, we grab some fish and chips and head out in darkness again by boat, this time across Te Anau’s lake (the second biggest in NZ) in search of the glow worm colony. This colony was mentioned in Maori legend but only rediscovered in the 1900’s.

We walk through some great caves. I can’t think of ever having seen such active caves before with shrieking, swirling waters from Lake Orbell above penetrating the rock to roar crystal clear in whirlpools around us. I stare at this pliable water that must be as hard as diamond to have carved its way through solid rock forming these shapes and openings.

We reach the glow worm colony by canoe and in pitch darkness these little starts twinkle above our heads. As I stare I can see they don’t twinkle on and off and but shimmer and shake as the tiny creatures that make these pearls of light move back and forth. We are told to stay quiet not to ruin anyone’s enjoyment of the magic and for once my kids do not need reminding so carried away are they by these sights.

Skiing Treble Cone

We have only ever skied the Three Valleys in France and so we are curious and a little daunted by the Treble Cone ski fields, leaving our Lake Wanaka apartments, Monday morning. We have chosen TC because it’s described as NZ’s largest ski area and good for intermediate skiers which we believe ourselves to be: hahahaha.

Armed with my new ski boots which haven’t seen my feet since the day I bought them, we begin the twisty mountain drive up to base camp; I sight a bird of prey adjacent to the entrance sign, photogenically consuming road kill like a vulture from a spaghetti Western. Is it an omen I ask myself or is that just a particularly spooky horror film from the 1970’s?

We navigate the hairpin bends and I notice Caitlin’s gaze is glued to the steep fall offs. Before long she is demanding, ‘Slow down Daddy you are driving too fast.’

She doesn’t seem too amused when I devilishly say,

“Wait until it snows.’ The awesome views help to build the excitement.

At the top we shuffle the kids into ski school, watch for awhile to assure ourselves they look happy and then climb into our boots. We ski feverishly but expertly all day long in the sunshine and deep snow ... ah. Alas not, my new boots prove useless as it becomes clear I won’t be able to ski in them; the clue for this is the large heart wrenching sobs as I negotiate the run back down to base.

However, a quick rental later and the spring has once again returned to my step even if the blood still hadn’t made its way past my original boot line. We are now both able to admire Lake Wanaka far below cradled by snow free mountains, a lovely contrast to the crisp white snow at our backs.

My happiness does not last long however as we soon discover the resort to be a little scary, not in an Omen way. It is hard to work out where the runs start and end and the grading system has obviously been done on a different mountain, maybe one on the moon. We find ourselves quickly out of our depths on ungroomed slopes, ending up on steep half pipes I’m sure were built for Olympic snowboarding and from time to time on rocks and grass: they hadn’t had any snow for awhile. I seem to struggle more than Grant who as usual when he is better at me in something seems full of the joys of spring.

‘Oh it’s just like skiing in Scotland’ as he lurches his way down a particularly difficult slope. It is at this point that my fingers begin to inexplicably swell and do not finish until they resemble two packs of Wall’s giant pork sausages; I sadly display them to my husband.

‘Ooh look you’ve got man fingers,’ he laughs as he ricochets off the nearest rock. He is lucky I’m having trouble getting down the slope to ‘join’ him.

Things continue not to go well for me as we attempt the ‘fast ‘chair lift. Unlike France with its helpful traffic lights to tell you when to go or indeed barriers that stop those of us that don’t concentrate on holiday, here you must watch for your moment; then estimate where to stand on a faint red line whose words of warning are blurred under the thick ice.

The result is a spectacular Nil Point as I try to sit on the chair lift and miss, just catching the edge. I immediately imagine my body dangling by my fat sausage fingers from the chair’s restraining bar miles over the slopes and consequently throw myself off to the side somewhat like a an Indiana Jones move. When I sit up, Grant has followed suit leaving me to wonder:

A) Does he think I knew something?

B) Is he trying to steal my limelight?

c) Does he think this is how you ride the lifts NZ style with a ritualised first throw?

Mortified, I attempt standing on the ice and keeping my face out of view, manoeuvre myself back to position. I can’t bring myself to try again for at least another 5 minutes or until all the witnesses have ridden away out of sight.

Sustenance is required. Grant volunteers to fetch food from the only cafe located on the mountainside. As I save our places in the sun on the decking outside he turns,

‘What do you want?’

‘I’ll have the soup of the day.’

‘But you don’t know what it is.’

‘Surprise me.’

I wait nestled in amongst the other skiers and wonder,’ Why are they all so advanced and not just in age but ability too? We have witnessed: people jumping from cliffs, tracking down gullies with small exquisite jump turns , zooming down steep mogul fields and idiots carrying skis miles beyond the end of chair lifts so they can go God knows wear. Where are the frigging beginners, you know, the bunch of gross motor challenged individuals you see with knees stapled together, tottering down slopes as if in heels. Where are they? Even the kids look like Franz bloody Klammer as they fly past me on double tipped skis and I ask G,

‘Is that child wearing a nappy?’

Still there is local wildlife to look at, what the ... that is the fattest pair of parrots I have ever seen. I find out later they are Keas. What are they eating up here - the beginner skiers? As Grant arrives back with my soup of the day, a blood coloured froth he tries to convince me is Beetroot soup, I know deep down they are not eating the cafe food. What are the other extreme skiers eating- oh yes they are attached to I/v drips of adrenaline.

Still the kids are having a great time. Ski school’s so quiet that they’ve had one on one tuition. Caitlin started with two other kids but they were quickly moved up -I think one of them was the Franz Klammer from before and her confidence is a little squashed. Ciara however loves it.

Overnight we have ten centimetres of snow; the area looks even more beautiful for it. Of course the runs are even more difficult and despite my requests to warm up gently on an easy green Grant sets off for an unbashed , unfamiliar slope with a bad name. Let’s just say this long eared white rodent is not wearing a smile. Half way down the slope I switch into fighting mode, bringing up old grievances imagined or real and pelting them like snowballs onto G’s back. I think both of us are relieved to get to the bottom but for different reasons. I refuse at this point to travel any further until we have had hot chocolate, hoping it might loosen some of the tightness in my tired, overwrought and I have now decided ageing body. I have to say that once we had warmed up properly, a few easy runs later, everything is better and we enjoy the day especially as I pass the ‘falling over’ reins to grant who struggles to stay upright in the powder conditions. We giggle and play on the back bowl in deep snow where one twitch sends you in a different direction. We find some reasonable slopes and even drop in on some half pipes. No one is on them again; they have all gone heli-skiing: a helicopter transports you to an isolated mountain with virgin snow that no one in their right mind would ski and picks you up again at the bottom. Helicopter pilot = perfect job for a serial killer with a sense of humour.

By day 3 we are all improving and finding our way around. Ciara does her first green run, Caitlin is parallel turning and we are managing some pretty technical stuff with a smile on our faces. Quite sad that today is our last day of skiing.

We finish up and drive back to Queenstown admiring its Lake Wakapi even more in the sunshine, turquoise waters with real waves – their cause a mystery: this is not a sea fed lake. Bring on Milford Sound tomorrow.

The Kiwi Adventure Begins

The Kiwi Adventure Begins

Early morning start; how I love those 4.30 am alarms. Ciara awakes with a smile and as much excitement as a toddler on their first true Christmas; Caitlin more like a vampire, ‘Turn off the light it burns.’

A short ride to the airport and some good British humour gets us safely through border control, no easy process in these Antipodean countries where any traveller is viewed as a potential illegal immigrant and your pockets, potential sources of orange peel or apple core; death con eight on their biohazard scale.

Melbourne international departure lounge is somewhat small and the choice of eating outlets limited; no Dunkin Donuts to keep the kids satisfied; no large quantities of wholesome healthy Bircher muesli to keep my health conscious tendencies at bay still at least the aroma of properly roasted coffee beans true Melbournian style rouses me from my lingering languor or could it be the alarms drilling into my ears: those devices they seem to hand out these days to let customers know their drinks are ready. Gone are the days of quietly waiting on one side or god forbid someone delivering paid chattels to your table.

I still seem to have an odd ache in my left butt cheek whose exact point of greatest discomfort I still can’t pinpoint and whose cause remains a mystery even as I write this. ‘Please don’t let it be old age’ I complain to Grant; not the first time these thoughts come into my head during our break.

The flight into Queenstown is stunning. As soon as we cross New Zealand’s coast I see snow laden mountains peaks whose cliffs run down to the sea, I’ve never seen anything the same. I quickly understand why NZ is called ‘The Island of The Long white cloud’. I assume it is something to do with the sheer quantity of mountain ranges and valleys which trap the water and create these eerie extended rolls of whiteness which hang like puppets on strings and so enthral me time and time again.

We land safely in Queenstown, a process I would not like to repeat at night and in fact no one does as Grant advises me that night flights are way too difficult to navigate through the mountains. The town itself wedges into the base of these monsters but its edges are calmed by the immense Lake Wakatipu.

The town is bustling but in a laid back relaxing way; there are a lot of people, cars and shops but no one seems in a great hurry. We are soon on the road to Lake Wanaka, a name that must be pronounced with care although I am advised that Maoris have a lot of fun with the wavering their nomenclature causes.

The curving road we traverse leaves me queasy and eventually I resort to driving only realising as I take the wheel that I have never driven an automatic before. I still enjoy all the alpine scenery; there is little traffic on the road and I really don’t think I could get bored of these crushed velvet green and brown mountain sides. I have seen so little of this type of terrain since coming to Oz. As we arrive in Lake Wanaka I can see the ski range mountains lift up in the distance and a sense of excitement begins to hum inside: I have not skied for two and a half years and have missed it. Everything today has seemed magical even the cows whose deep russet hides positively glow, seem unreal. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Mud - not so glorious mud

82 days to go and I suddenly realise watching some UK show that I haven't seen/interacted with mud (I mean properly gloopy mud) for over 16 months. Not so great for bikes and not something I'm looking forward to.

On going farewell musings

Through judicious bargaining I've now broken the magic 100 and have 99 days left before we go - having been here for 569 days.

I think I'm going to miss the Footie. I can't explain it: I don't like soccer, if you can call 36 players on a pitch 30% bigger than a soccer pitch running frantically for 3 hours beating the pulp out of each other the same as soccer. Somehow though it gets under the skin. Yes you have no choice - its a religion in a city of 4 million and everyone from 6 to 90 year olds follows it with a fervent passion, but its a bit more.

The athleticism of running non stop for 3 hours (OK 30 mins at half time to stretch out) and being able to do sub 10 sec 100m sprints appeals to the cyclist. The brutality appeals to the animal in everyone, but its hard to say.

I look forward to visiting Earl's Court to get a decent brunch and coffee and minority sports on Sky on my return.

Up Up and Away

Cycling up in the Dandenongs. At only a 40 minute drive from the heart of Melbourne the landscape is beautiful and feels like a million miles from anywhere. At 7am in the morning it was a bit nippy though!

The solidarity at this time on a Sunday is great though with the mountain taken over by the cyclists - hundreds and hundreds of $15,000 bike people (myself excluded) crawling over the 4 major roads that make up the crucifix, and the hundreds of minor roads weaving through the fern and mountain gum forests.

Special mention to "Terry's Avenue". 600m at 20%+ , a little flat and then 1.3km at 13% - I mean WHO makes a road like this!? You sit back to get traction over the rear wheel and the front wheel starts lifting: you lean forward to get weight over the front and the rear starts spinning with lack of grip. The lifespan for a clutch on cars up here must be measured in hundreds of miles.

137 days to go

Ages, but I'm trying to get my head around the pros and cons of going. I'll leave you to guess which is which:

Bacon Sandwiches

Decent beer

Well travelled stella (it doesn't travel well)

Bacon

God the traffic jams

Coffee! - you're having me on

You've know idea how great it is to have a butcher and a fishmonger - remember them

Insipid 3 week old defrosted fish at Tesco's

The weather

The pot holes

Sitting in a traffic jam for 2 hours going nowhere

Bacon sandwiches

Skiing in Europe - sorry but Aussie skiing is like Scotland (sorry home!)

Decent steak - some of the best raw materials in Europe but somehow Tesco has homogenised it by the time it gets to the shelf

Learning to moan about everything again (should be easy for a Scot)

Public transport

Living in the boondocks - Although it doesn't feel like living in a city I think a lot of Melbourne's pluses are that you're actually living in a big city - although it doesn't feel like it

Ability to fly for 1 hour and be in a very different culture. Melbournians might argue that there is NO culture in North QLD, but I can fly over 3 hours here and be in the same country.

Sunday brunch

The long wind down

I'm going to beat Sharon to this one, and with no more planned holidays, a big go live over the next few months, and as of today confirmation that we're leaving at end of September I see the blog becoming steadily more introspective.

Return to the UK was always a concept somewhere in the distance, an idea of something that we'd return to but never really had to engage with the hard facts. We've been living in some limbo land where its been nice/strange/exotic (and bloody stressful) here. We've joked/debated/rolled around the idea of staying but knowing it was never really happening, but also never really having to think about leaving. It's still 4 months away, but all that has now changed with me confirming the secondment conclusion in September.

Its good to have a focus and certainty, but I feel a sense of having to shake myself out of the dream and focus on home.

I can see myself sitting in a cafe in 4 months time, drinking shitty coffee, watching rain lashing against the window, wondering who on earth voted for David Cameron, and thinking that Melbourne was all a passing dream.

Grampians - Last Day

Having had a taste for a little more walking after the Hollow Mountains (a certain 11 and 9 year old may dispute this view of history) we spent the morning of the last day climbing from the wonderland car park up to "The Pinnacle".

Although not quite as extreme as Hollow Mountain this was a fairly stiff uphill slog through some great rock scenery, essentially consisting of climbing through ever narrowing gorges: The Grand Canyon, followed by Silent Street. You could find a bit of scrambling if you wanted (which Caitlin certainly did - was she secretly jealous of Ciara's broken leg from last year), but the standard Aussie fare of stone cut steps and railings were provided. I've got mixed views on these, it allows the runner (trainer) clad brigade with shopping bag of lollies (sweets) to get into the hills, but it does sanitise the experience a little, and the reduced effort to get somewhere tinges the final reward. Having said all that the views from the top were great.

The afternoon we drove through the Southern Grampian's to Dunkeld before heading on the 3 hour dive to Melbourne. By the names you'd be forgiven for thinking we were in Scotland, and certainly the farmland views with a backdrop of towering hills reminded me of, well the Grampian's, and both adults felt a little homesick.

In summary the Grampian's were really enjoyable, and by Aussie travelling distance standards, very accessible from Melbourne.

Grampians - Sunny Sunday

The weather was much better today and we wandered back up the twisting mountain road up amongst the peaks and views. The first view today was so much better than the cloud blanket from yesterday with the vista over the valley and town below.

Wandering back down the road we arrived at another great lookout right next to the car park, and a 1km walk along a well groomed path we arrive at, yup yet another lookout, this time with the Jaws of Death as an added attraction. These are two rock fingers sticking out, looking like a pair of the titular Jaws. People used to be able to walk the 4-5 ft out on the lower one but this is now discouraged: probably in case you slipped and fell the 200 ft to the valley, although to be fair it looks like you could break the rock by jumping up an down a few times.

Bored with the vistas we now reversed the process and went to look at McKenzie falls. Great views, and other than some steep steps down the side of a gorge, an easy reach from the car park. For those of a lazy disposition the Grampian's so far were great: let the car do the work, park at the 1,500 ft view point and admire.

Clearly this was too easy and we drove the hour north to Hollow Mountain. I lost the road to this mountain car park a couple of times and badly judging the petrol gauge suddenly panicked and drove back down the road we had come. Staring for 30 mins at a fuel gauge at zero, shallow breathing and waiting for the hiccuping of a car running out of fuel. We somehow made in to the "petrol station" which consisted of a shed and 2 pumps in a caravan park, and the need to ring a bell to get the warden out. Suitably replenished (the kids also managed to wheedle chocky bars out of me) we returned to Hollow Mountain.

Banished was the easy walk to the view, this time taking on some pretty serious scrambling, for 1.5 hours to reach the top. The mountain gets its name from the endless fissures seeming to run through it, creating a couple of interesting caves we had to traverse. The girls did really well and the views were worth it, the weather by now providing typically Aussie, cloudless skies with a glaring sun.

Rockclimbing was popular here and we met some climbers on their way down carrying what looked like gym mats. I've climbed (very badly) in the past and this was an odd replacement for ropes, carabiners etc. All became clear when we went through one of the largest fissure/caves. Loads of climbers were practising a form of extreme climbing, trying to follow the impossible grooves in the ceiling while having their little mats below them for their backs!

The Grampians

They're not far from Melbourne, you can fit them into a long weekend, and they're recommended. The Anzac day weekend was ideal, as Melbournians all stayed at home being far more patriotic than the Brits - well actually watching the Anzac Day matches. Unfortunately the Long Weekend weather was like a UK Bank Holiday and turned for the worse just in time.

3.5 hours later and one Devonshire cream tea stop later we arrived in Halls Gap, and drove slightly out of town to our Eco Cabin. The Eco credentials I think extended to snaring the customer, but it was clean, nicely laid out and made a good base. The wood burning stove wasn't quite the roaring log fire Shaz wanted, and due to certain idiosyncrasies, Caitlin got far and away the best room.

We had been guaranteed 'Roo's here, but the same guarantee at the Red Centre had delivered nothing but road kill in various states of disrepair. However 2 mins on the road into town, 2 large Grey's leap out from the bush and proceed to charge down the road in front of us. We slowed a little watching as they continued to bounce madly down the road at 40kph. 2 large bouncing legs with big claws are great for the bush but not wet and greasy roads, and twice trying to run back into the bush they came crashing down onto the road. Eventually both managed to leap off into the trees and undergrowth somewhere. In retrospect I think I may have actually hounded them down the road, and Ciara was disappointed and not having two 'Roo's to eat.

Driving into town we saw it for the tourist trap it was and took the winding road up into the mountains to look at the views. We were driven back in dismay as each view stopped ten feet in front of us at a wall of cloud. Back to the Eco lodge for wine and wait for Sunday.

Alice.

It's taken me awhile to put down some words on Alice: the most difficult part of the holiday in many ways and a shock to me. Grant, as you have probably gathered, did the research for this holiday leaving me unprepared for the places we were due to visit.

So in Alice Springs I am shocked to find two societies living in extreme contrast. The affluent Westerners drive around or walk with purpose, live in attractive accommodation , eat in pleasant restaurants and pretty much exist as most other Aussies. The other section, the Aboriginal part, are like a people time forgot.

They meander around, often in small groups, walking at a snails pace, looking for something... The men wear familiar sports wear; trackie bottoms mostly and tee shirts. The women, nearly always overweight, carry plastic shopping bags although after an incident at the supermarket watching one lady try to barter for food in a language the cashier did not share, I wonder what is actually in these bags. It was not pleasant to watch someone who does not have enough money to buy a roast chicken walk away empty handed. I want to go across and offer to make up the difference but I am frightened as to how it will be taken, I know, nothing of these people.

Not once did I see an Aboriginal smile, not even the occasional child that we see and often there are hostile stares at the passing cars. not hard to realise why when you find out that Alice Springs houses a large Aboriginal community effectively living in a shanty town. It is made up of tarpaulins, tin shacks and old run down houses on the Todd river's dry bed. This runs straight through town so there is no getting away from it.

The lack of good housing may explain the encampments we see under trees or any place there is shade; groups of intensely dark skinned people sit in groups resting. I never see mixed groups. It seems wrong that modern day society can find no answers to the integration of people so obviously in need. Caitlin is distressed too, feeling intimidated by the groups that pass her. I am upset I cannot explain why things are like this, as I do not know the reasons myself and turn to the guidebook. This informs us that most of the Aboriginals in Alice have been sent away from surrounding villages because of alcoholism or other difficult issues. I know it is not as simple as this.

I realise all the media images and sanitised version of Aboriginal life I have seen so far in Oz have not prepared me for this, and I wonder at the lack of publicity this situation seems to get. Would it be the same in a similar sized town in the U.K. if this was going on? I get a real taste of how Australian mentality is different.

It feels like a symbol that a wide dry riverbed runs through the heart of Alice.

The Red Centre

Wonderful selection of photos to go with the "lovely" blog.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/36445314@N08/

King's Canyon

Off we go set for pastures new leaving Ayers Rock Resort far behind as we drive to King's Canyon. The long leisurely breakfast this morning means we leave a little later than planned and arrive for today's walk late meaning it will be conducted in full Northern territory sunshine. As Caitlin and me ponder the alternatives to the 3 hour rim walk which the signs suggest should not be attempted at midday(we arrived at 11am ) G dismisses all alternatives with a shrug of his shoulders and a " Suck it up!"
So I now have: a sulky teenager complaining of all manner of serious gi disturbances, a small child in fine fettle in front as she feels she has the moral high ground being keen to attempt the walk, a deranged commando like husband and a steep climb in 31 degrees heat. Yes it wasn't called the rim walk for nothing. The terrain is interesting and once on the rim there are some spectacular vistas even if we have drunk 1/3 of our water into the first half an hour in the mistaken belief there will be water stops on the way- well there were at other sites.

The two standout sections are: ' The Lost City', mmmm, I think they may have exaggerated somewhat but the beehive like rock formations are intriguing and ' The garden Of Eden' . Now I wasn't around in biblical times contrary to my children's views but I'm not sure the Garden of Eden would have been filled with stagnant brown water resembling an over sized farm puddle, flies and a bunch of Japanese tourists wearing white gloves...Are they all Michael Jackson fans?
It does seem eerie however to yet again be faced with an oasis of plant life in what is essentially a dry rock! Some of the plants here are found nowhere else in Oz and are prehistoric a little like my walking boots which have once again let me down resulting in, as I write, a big toe nail that looks like it is not long for this world.

After going off the beaten track a few times for extra views ( I think you can guess who suggested these detours)I finally put my foot down, yes not the one with the sore big toe, as we realise we still have a quarter of the walk to do and no frigging water. Now I become the commando and insist there's no more dawdling along , making the children feel guilty by giving them the last drops of water in the bottle and putting the fear of god in everyone on the horrors of dehydration. We finish the walk in 2 hours and 40 minutes.

So now begins the part of the holiday G is really looking forward to(are we all getting the picture) as he announces, " Buckle up , we now start the drive on the Mareenie loop" effectively an off road 150km short cut to Alice. Initially this is fun so much so that we let Caitlin drive for a quarter of an hour on the gravel only taking over when she hits 70kph passing a road train coming the other way!What then follows is G supposedly trying to avoid corrugations in the road surface by driving over the edge, and going for it big time, " Is that a ditch ahead , slow down, ..........!!!! too late " As Ciara bashes her head of the interior roof of the Nissan and believe me this is quite high. Still even he has had enough of his jollies after two hours of driving as he narrowly misses another giant lizard, this one looking like a horizontal T Rex.

Now it really feels like we are in the middle of nowhere and I start to get a little concerned in a 'Wolf Creek' like way as we begin to see things hanging from trees. I have my glasses on but it takes a little time before I realise these are not dead tourists put there to ward of other venturers but old bits of tyre and rubbish which for some reason are always hoisted into trees directly along the roadside.
Are we being told something... Like take your ....!!! rubbish back with you.

As we finish the Mareenie Loop and look forward to an upgrade , a section of unsealed road according to the map is a ======= as opposed to the------of the aforementioned Mareenie Loop, I ask myself why did they bother to write=======. Is this some impossible wish for the future? because=====is exactly the same as------and it takes another....!!!! hour of blender driving to reach the town on the map marked by *. Now you think I would be starting to learn. I mean * looks substantial doesn't it but a familiar feeling starts as we draw up to the ' town' and I see no procession of cars in and out and no beverage advertisements to speak of. "Lets drive through it anyway" says Grant . Oh yes lets !!! Well most of the towns buildings are now in a museum , no really they are! Behind a chain in between two metal poles and the derelict bunch of churches and houses look like something out of the Victorian era which they are because H was a missionary town in the middle of nowhere in !!!!!1860. Now there are few broken cars and a couple of shacks one which apparently sells beverages but after Mt Ebenazer I'm not taking any chances so we continue on to Alice.

The Night Sky and Tom Cruz...

One of the highlights of the trip for me was the tour we went on one evening to the Ayers Rock Observatory.

We had been told about an organised evening meal with astronomy for pud even before we had left Blighties shores but this turned out to be a full course, a la carte, open air affair and wouldn't have fulfilled potential with two restless and at times food fussy children. So instead we opt for the feed my mind not my stomach astronomy tour.

The night sky away from cities and town's light pollution has the ability to take your breath away and even before the tour really gets going I find myself ogling the theatre above. We witness not only the milky way but also see a jet black area devoid of stars right in the middle of its spiral arm which turns out to be The Coal Sac Nebula not the cold suck nebula my initial interpretation, although I think my name has some merit. We also see the Magellanic clouds, two galaxies visible to the naked eye under the right conditions ie Southern Hemisphere with no moon. We are then led thro an array of constellations and planets and spot a shooting star! Finally we are allowed to look thru the observatories telescopes where my gasps of delights at seeing Orion's nebula and Saturn complete with rings embarrasses Caitlin greatly; at last it begins.

It is amazing to note there is always a certain geek attraction to these things and this tour was no different. Our geek on the bus back impersonates a Brit from Essex, can't possibly be a real Brit . Then I realise there is something a little Tom Cruz about him and not in the appearance way as I hear,

"Did You know there are tribes in Senegal," he needed a couple of go's at getting the right country, well it's difficult when so many begin with S," whose astronomers hold ancient star charts."

" OOhh , AAAhhh"from gathered less knowledgables. He continues in more subdued but still discernable Essex accent,

" Modern Astronomers who visited were shocked to see they had correctly identified Alpha Centauri as a binary star and all without telescopes. When asked how they knew, these tribes people replied the ' visitors told us!'

You could see where I was going with my Tom Cruz thing and I was dying to ask why these visitors didn't release more useful information than Alpha Centauri is a binary star but guess their decision making was somewhat questionable as they did go on to make Ron . L Hubbard their spokesman.

Uluru

Well it's what we came for and G makes us get up at 6 am so we can drive and photograph the Monolith at dawn. Despite feeling that he is being a tad unreasonable on first full day of holiday, it being Good Friday to boot and I haven't even had breakfast let alone a hot cross bun, I am duly impressed by Uluru. Everything they say about its ability to change colour every few minutes is true and it is fascinating to watch the rock's surface flow from dark brown to red to orange and to melted chocolate - my favourite hue, though it could be hypoglycaemia settling in at this point.

We return after breakfast and decide to respect the Aboriginals request not to climb to the top as this is 'not what Uluru is about.' I am mightily relieved as I watch the line of ant soldiers inching along a rope fence gripping the steep side of the Northern territory's most spectacular icon, knowing in my heart that if it had not been for the local people's request I would have been forced along with the other gloved Japanese tourists( no I don't know why either) to ascend to the summit by my ever keen adventurer of a husband.

Instead we choose to do the base walk , some 10km jaunt in 30 degrees plus. Maybe just the Mala section would have sufficed.

It is during this walk that Ciara tells me she ' is not a schuman being' and Caitlin gives G his diagnosis OSD - obssesive sunscreen disorder which she has changed by the end of the walk to OWD- Obssesive Walking Disorder. We jolly the kids along by pretending we are a clan on a special walk to find a new home and we all assign ourselves jobs. When I ask Ciara what job she wants, I get' To annoy my sister!'

We do return to Uluru to photograph it once more this time at sunset where once again it does it's colour morph thing and I am equally fascinated by this and watching the throng of tourists arriving in interesting forms of transport and all types of traveller from the: O.k it's 1 minute after sunset lets go, to the lets get out the barbie and chairs and park down for a night of eating and no doubt guitar playing, to the somewhat lost looking Japanese tourists still wearing gloves and inappropriate attire i.e white!

Still Uluru has not disappointed.

Interesting Oxymorons and a winge

• No you can't go on a hot air ballon ride over Uluru anymore as it's sacred but I can book you on a helicopter instead.

• Yes you can take photos of Uluru except these two little areas here because they are more sacred than all the rest of it which you can't climb because it is sacred

• No you can't stop on this 200 metre stretch of road but you can anywhere else. Why? And here I am waiting for the sacred bit of road argument, but the best we can come up with is that this piece of road gives the best distance shot of Uluru that you see from all professional shots and so you can't stop the car here because....

• No you can't have a glass for your beer by the pool but no we won't decant it from the glass bottle it comes in, you can do that yourself by the pool into the plastic beaker provided.

• This is only a gravel road for 150km then it becomes an unsealed road....yes and your point, it still feels like driving in a blender!

• You must pay to visit Standley chasm because it is a sacred gap between two pieces of rock....

Why not just say, it's our land and you must pay!

• This is the estimate for your vehicle hire on tininternet but the bill will really be$$$$$$$ because you have driven it so much in this desolate desert country where we have no public transport and why else would you hire a 4x4 from Alice but to travel to Uluru and yes we do have unlimited mileage if you hire in a city so if you had hired the 4x4 (without snorkel, winch or shovel) in Melbourne and driven it here we would have only charged you half the price. Oh yes and that is an additional tax we call isolated area tax to cover this being an isolated area !!And yes it is a percantage of the whole bill with additional extortiant mileage fee added on.

The Red Centre and my husband's mistress...

So safely landed in Alice Springs, G rushes off to meet his dream date, a 4x4 Nissan Patrol. However, he is heart broken when they meet, realising Big Bertha is missing a snorkel, a winch and of all things a shovel, although I would be very upset if we needed any of these items!! Suitably calmed by this thought we persuade him not to go back into the airport and demand his conjugal rights and head out instead to start 'his' outback adventure.

Our first stop is Alice, whose description I will return to later....., to pick up 6 weeks supply of lollies( sweets) and water supplies before the five and half hour drive to Uluru.

Flies!

They deserve a whole paragraph by themselves.

Do not underestimate the annoyance of the outback fly. They descend on you as soon as you open the car door and once they have you in their sights they follow, incessantly, proclaiming your arrival to another hundred of their mates who have been waiting somewhere -where I do not know, suspended motionless it seems, waiting just for us. And then this paperazzi are not content til they have blocked every avaliable orifice, searching for what????Do they feed on carbon bloodie dioxide, ear wax, bogeys and dried eye mucus?What is it they want from us that they can't get from 10 tonnes of animal dung?

As you can see they have an effect.

The landscape we drive through is not what we expect. I have tried not to look at too many pictures: I wanted to experience it all first hand. But I expected red soil, a bush here and there and very little else. Instead I give you green! And not just isolated patches but a covering over most of the reddened earth and we witness a huge variation in plant life over the next five days driving.

The animal life is equally awesome and on this one trip alone we see: a giant lizard crossing the road in front of us; a wedge tailed eagle that is so intent on catching its prey, it nearly hits the windscreen of the car and boy are they big; grasshoppers large and green, some red others brown, stripey ones but no spotty ones; butterflies at least five obvious types and sometimes their caterpillars which are juicy and fat with big black spikes like car aerials stabbing upwards; beetles galore,iridescent green ones, black ones with round bodies, large flying ones , eeek!; more lizards, this time somewhat smaller but again all different one even wearing a red helmet; frogs and tadpoles; camels -I didn't think these were indigenous to Oz but you might be fooled into thinking they are as they seems to roam around the desert unhindered by harness or human keepers, and kangeroos. No stop, freeze , go back one! Did I say kangeroos? Yes I was expecting to finally see large numbers of them hopping across the landscape, I'd been promised them after all but not one did we witness that didn't need scraping off the tarmac! Where were they all? Oh yes on the tarmac!

Apart from signage, the road itself is the only man made thing we see and looks like someone has dumped a trail of grey down on wilderness. The edges of the road are not straight and at times the red soil can be seen creeping onto its surface trying to reclaim its territory. It seems very War of the Worlds.

We stop twice on the Stuart highway. Firstly at Henbury Meterorite plains where craters from falling pieces of kryptonite have turned into thriving oasie, or whatever the plural is for this. I am awed by the amazing 'miracle gro powers of said exotic space minerals until G explains that any depression in this flat landscape collects water and washed down minerals-well he could read the bloodie sign , my eyes were too full of flies.

The second stop is at a cafe, though I use this term loosely, at Mount Ebenezer. Here we order coffee and get given 2 empty mugs (is this symbolic I ask myself). I am very relieved however that I don't make a fool of myself by asking for a skinny latte and a long black as a finger points to the hot water urn and instant nescafe jar around the corner. How Melbournian I have become as I can't bring myself to drink more than a mouthful without gagging and suggesting a quick getaway.

Then finally just as we begin to tire we see a large mountain in the distance. It does look truly impressive but alas turns out not to be the end of our journey but Mt. connor which if it wasn't for its size I would believe someone had constructed as a joke to play on the long line of tourists making their pilgrimage to Uluru. Still we did eventually arrive and see the real thing but more of that later.....

Penguin Paradiso

,So much for my promise to keep up with the blog!

Still it's amazing how quickly the new becomes the norm and the inspiration for writing is lost. We have now been in Oz for over a year and despite missing the U.K., there is a lot to say for life down under, particularly Melbourne's charms, which worm their way in ... We have no dates for our return as yet, and continue to find places to visit , trying to pack everything in, in case we don't come back, though I fear we may be visiting our children in years to come on a granny visa!

Yesterday, the first day of school holidays, we visited Phillip Island, a two hour drive from Brighton. The main reason for our trip was to witness the Penguin Parade, a nightly procession of Little (very fitting name!) Penguins, as they touch down ashore in squadrons and then hurtle up the beach, some appearing to shout incoming as a few dive back to the safety of the sea fearful of attack from enemies overhead.

You see this at first from a distant platform and then you hear their odd calls, whistles and barks as they approach, finally appearing in front of you less graceful singularly then on masse amongst the seaweed.

People have been coming since 1920 to witness this although they sat on the beaches, as these tiny sea birds , oblivious to the 'odd looking statues', made their way up the dunes to their burrows. Now in the twenty first century we are herded like cats into giant stands in our thousands- what a spectacle- although you can pay double for a more intimate view among 150 'close' friends. The main advantage for this is that after the large thousand seater stands were built the penguins decided to move their parade along the beach- what a surprise- so the tourist centre built a more 'exclusive' ( closer) viewing area for a premium. Let us not take away from the sight however we have come to see.

I watched one particularly fat fellow wobbling home alongside the boardwalk as if returning from a heavy nights drinking session, his wife, no doubt having having refused to pick him, and wondered how they memorise their way back to Chez Penguin. Some remember a 1.5km route in the dark, with no appreciable features to me, amongst the myriad of tracks and dense plant cover. The wonder of nature?!? I can't even find my car in the supermarket car park.

Happily there is no smell apart from the salt sea air and the dominating sounds are the huge variant of penguin calls and children's ' reactions as they watch enthralled.

The whole event takes less than an hour and quickly refuelled by a dreadful hot chocolate and re fleeced by a trip to the Penguin Stop Shop we begin the night drive home.

I should also add that we spent the afternoon with a drive to the Nobbies, not a peanut factory but a group of rocks so named because they stick up from the sea( so Aussie)which was worth a visit for the pleasant boardwalk stroll, although no one is allowed to walk out on the causeway anymore to protect the mutton birds which roost among the rocks.

Rhyll was also a pleasant stop although not for the thrill seekers amongst you, more for the hungover brigade needing a little sea air to cleanse their souls. A three shop stop with a pleasant jetty and the sights, sounds and smells of a fishing village- stop now if you don't like long descriptive passages by budding writers ; the singing of the wires from boats dry berthed, a chain clanking rhythmically against a mast, pieces of bone and feather seeping out from the sands, enucleated fish heads on the seaweed, discarded by fisherman, being picked at by gulls for the last remaining morsels of flesh, the noise of of forced air from a wetsuit mechanical like a piston as a man walks up the launch, the tops of white surf spraying into the air, the smell of the sea salt, the feel of whipped skin on you face and tangled hair in you eyes. Then a crap coffee in a homely coffee house with more staff than customers and a rushed tea. Oh the ebb and flow of a day by the.....

The Red Centre

Ridiculously excited about 6 days over next weekend (yeh I know the Math doesn't work) in the Red Centre with a HUGE 4x4. Looking forward to using the power winch and boring you all with the very red photos.

Trip Home

OMG - 4-5 days in the UK in the next 2 weeks. Going to be surreal. What a potential price to pay though!

The Highs and Lows

Its been a mixed week.

I come off my bike - again! This time its trying to negotiate a tram track in the rain and failing miserably. Worryingly it was also the new bike. Carbon Fibre is great at many things, but being bounced off a combination of kerb, metal track, and tarmac isn't one of them. Luckily everything on the bike that was gouged was metal: pedals, quick release levers etc. The rest was me, and despite the general feeling at the moment, I guess it will all self repair.

I'm really beginning to feel I should take up track cycling, as I'm now beginning to look like one. The fresh scars are doubly annoying in that its another area to be extra generous with the sunscreen.

On the plus side we went to Portsea again this weekend. This time armed with a beach brolly. The surf was still great, but not as monstrous as last weekend, and at 33 degrees was just a little pleasanter than last weeks 37. In an attempt though to balance out the cyclists tan lines I've got a little burnt, so clearly not as generous with the sunscreen as I thought.

As a final note the beach brolly is the last in a long line of essentials that will have absolutely no use when we return to the UK: BBQ, Beach brolly, Thongs, Esky's, beach tennis, footy ball's, and an annual subscription to sunscreen bulk sales.

A Boogie at Snellings Beach and Home Again, Home Again, Clipperty Clop

Today was scenic drive territory up along the northern pennisula of the island , with gorgeous coves and fab beaches with the usual yawn, yawn , turquiouse crystal clear waters...

We spent the best part of the afternoon boogie boarding, swimming and relaxing on Snellings Beach wondering why couldn't we take a beach like this back to the southeast when we return!

Our final day involved a return to Little Sahara accompanied by hired tobogan and wax. Unfortunately we chose the worst possible weather to attempt any sporting fun as a gale force 90 knot wind whipped the sand up into a frenzy at the top of the dunes, scratching skin, blinding the smallest children and proving darn uncomfortable. Even donning swimming goggles failed to help as we tried in vain to brave the weather and ended up with one of the kids requiing medical intervention to wash out the ten tonnes of sand which ended up in his eyes!

Ahh bye bye KI and a fond farewell! It was also farewell and thank you to Gerry and Claire for showing us Adelaide and putting up with us. After a short tea with them in Adelaide and a late night unpacking Sarah's car, us mungins left for Melbourne and a lonely husband waiting for us.

A Remarkable Day

We certainly packed a full itinery in today's sightseeing with a first pit stop at Little Sahara in the morning on our way to the furthest corner of the Island. As the name suggests this consisted of a series of sand dunes and is promoted as a place to sand board or tobogan. Unfortunately the boogie boards we attempted to ride down proved too sticky for any speedy descents but we promised the kids to return on our last day and hire some tobogans from the local shop!

Next stop was the Lighthouse at Cape Couedic( fab lighthouse,very pretty for anyone vaguely interested in lighthouses) and then onto Admiral's arch to watch the fur seal colony there. These seemed a lot more lively than the sea lions and we enjoyed watching them surfing in their chosen cove. They obviously have great taste in views having chosen a very scenic spot to set up house. It proved quite hard to pull ourselves away from this area especially as we all fought over the cameras and who could take the best shot through the arch and onto the colony!

The next stop also proved to be a photographer's dream as we rollicked amongst the Remarkable Rocks, pieces of hardened laval rocks shaped by exposure into some unusual but artisitic figures. We proceeded to adopt a variety of arty poses in order to show the rocks and us off to our best vantage and so needed some lengthy time at this spot.

Now running out of time and energy, we took a last bush walk around platypus walk and although no playtpii were actually visualised in the small fermenting puddle presented at the end of a 3 mile hike , we did encounter two varieties of wallabies and finally kangeroos in the flesh and not dead flesh in the form of road kill! Yay!!!

We even saw a wedge tailed eagle feeding off dead something on the tarmac before launching off as we headed down the road on our way back to Pandarma for food only just making it in time for the last food orders at the only hotel for miles around with a bare 10 minutes to spare!!!!

Could have been nasty!!!

Kangeroo Island

We started the day at some unearthly hour in order to catch our ferry to KI.Having drugged myself and the Archard children for our ferry crossing we spent a dazed but quiet hour crossing the sea to our destination. It was only a couple of hours later when Sarah finally broke through my and her kids stuporous sleep that I thought maybe I had overdone the dosage somewhat!Half doses for everyone next time well me at least.

We did manage to fit in a trip to the Sea Lion colony on our first day on the Island and enjoyed the proximity to these calm and somewhat lazy mammals as they sunbathed on the beach in all their glory. Interestingly our guide turned out also to be our server in the hotel resteraunt we dined at later that night some 40km away. Obviously you need to be multi talented to survive on this island!

Adelaide Zoo

So on our final full day in Adelaide we were all excited about our trip to Adelaide Zoo and it didn't disappoint. Our friends contacts meant we were allowed special access to the veterinary dept inside the zoo where the children were looked after whilst we watched a seal post mortem. We also managed to get a glimpse of Adelaide's two new pandas, Wang,Wang and Funi which literally had been opened to the public that week and not in a post mortem sense either.

We spent most of the morning and early afternoon taking photos of animals and herding kids before heading once more to the beach to escape the heat and enjoy the sunset, kite surfing and food. Kite sufing to all newbies ( included me) consisted of a surf board and a kite and we watched in awe as a particularly able individual was pulled huge distances into the air perfoming aerial acrobatics before landing deftly on the sea surface once more. I could have watched all day and longed to have a go but knew deep in my heart I would have spent more time combing the bottom of the sea with kite and board perched on my head, wondering where the sky had gone.

Oh My God I Thought Adelaide Had Good Weather

With yesterday's temperatures in the 40's( but not matching Melbourne's 43 degrees ) we looked forward today to a tour of the wine valleys( yet another attempt by me to try wine tasting!) But again it was not to be as the heavens opened and a biblical flood descended on what had been promised as a much more reliable city for weather than Melbourne. Even our trip to Hasslehoff as I liked to call it but more accurately know as Hahndorf, descended into a watery farce as we sloshed our way through road rivers to try and enter folksy shops to look at soveigners. some of us exhibiting more relish than others at this prospect with Sarah bemoaning at our reluctance, "but I don't get out much!"

We finally managed to pull the shopping deprived mother of three from yet another fleece me fleece me you tourists'll buy any sort of shite shop on the promise that we would stay with the younger kids whilst she hit Adelaide shopping mall with our older two of our girls, on a fashion spree. Poor woman! So as Sarah set off on this adventure, we settled the youngest of the party down in front of a dvd player to watch the very young child friendly, eighties classic , The Lost Boys...

Adelaide

So yet again we set off for another break. This time however we were forced to leave Grant home alone( no more holiday leave!) whilst the girls and me jetted off for sunnier climes leaving sourpuss sulking in his cave back in Melbourne.

This break involved once again the Archard Clan , also leaving their paternal figure at home working whilst Sarah did the six and a half hour drive across country to Adelaide.

Our main reason for treking to this part of Oz was to catch up with friends from Vet school , Claire and Gerry whom had relocated to Adelaide some three years previously.Unfortunately our third dick vet veteran whom also lives in Adelaide, had left for a " holiday" in the North of Britain enjoying the best that British weather could throw at him and boy did it throw some big ones this winter, so glad we missed that but sorry that we missed him!

On our arrival Gerry and Claire kindly picked us up from the airport and then proceeded to take us to the beach as shark bait. I watched in fear as my kids frolicked in the sea along with the Archards, checking the horizon for any sign of a raised fin. I was rewarded with the sight of numerous fins emerging from the waves and only partly put at ease as my friends reassured me these belonged to a pod of dolphins and then returned to panic again when we saw a helicopter overhead as these, I was informed, tended to follow sharks for visiting tourists to photograph from above.

Still it was a very nice beach and a very nice afternoon as was the thai we enjoyed that night in central Adelaide, but dont ask me which street as I never got to grips with the Adelaide system of roads and travelling in different directions at different times of the day, oh and a sat nav with a sense of humour and short term memory loss!

Holiday photos on Flickr

This is going to be a little out of synch as we haven't finished the Taz blog, but Flickr links to holidays for both Taz:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/36445314@N08/sets/72157622941696189/

and Sharon and the girls trip to Kangaroo Island:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/36445314@N08/sets/72157623116635655/

Taz - last day of guided tour

Our last day of the guided tour was brilliant sunshine again. Somewhat annoying as today we were going for walks into some caves, while yesterday it was wet while trying to climb - aarggh.

The caverns where interesting enough and after these our personal guide returned us to civilisation or only just....

However we did manage to find a decent resteraunt in Launie for our last night so it was almost saved although it was a very scary place after midnight;boy racers, drunken yobs throwing beer cans, vomiting on street corners and not a policeman in sight... mmm. Maybe we are just getting old?

So in summary, Taz is a little Bogan, but the countryside is beautiful and there is loads to do - we barely scraped the surface in our 6 days, with other national parks, the 6 day Overland Trek, white water rafting on the Franklin river, and a shed load of nice towns in the South around Hobart to visit. .

Taz - the Guided Tour - day 2

The next day , having got the into the groove again for quality hill walking, we drove further into the hills and entered the hydro electric dam area, to climb Mt Murchison.

Mt Murchison I'm told is a dramatic peak, and the occasional break through the clouds enveloping its upper half suggested as much. Unfortunately the clouds wouldn't budge, and an hour into the climb it started raining. As we had to get through a rock band, Aron called the walk off deciding it would be too slippy.

We then dropped down into what I thought was some kind of illegal immigrant deportation centre. Turns out it was a "hydro" town, which was no excuse really. Aron at this point drove us to one of the dam edges and wandered off to catch lunch. Unluckily or luckily he was not successful and we enjoyed a more routine lunch of ham and cheese.Post lunch we went back to Cradle mountain and completed the lake walk in reasonable weather.

On the way home we stopped off at the alpine lodge where Aron generously allowed us a couple of drinks - a little unfair as there was no choice in him being nominated driver. Unfortunately this was two drinks too many for Sharon, exhibiting her ability to crash into a drunken stupor on a whiff of alchohol and then bounce back 2 hours later. How we laughed - actually Aron didn't, and spent the rest of the night looking a little perplexed/bemused.

Taz - Cradle Mountain

After our 2 days of Tasmanian "orientation" we

got picked up at the start of our 3 day guided tour in the Cradle Mountain/Lake St Clair National Park.

This trip went off to a good start as the guide turned up in a 20 seater mini bus, saying we were the only two on the tour. Our own chauffeur driven bus, and dedicated chef.

The trip started at a hectic pace with a 3 hour drive up to Cradle Mountain, initially through endless poppy fields (Taz is the worlds, or is it Southern Hemispheres, largest grower of medicinal opium). Personally I thought all opium was medicinal but this particular strain has been modified to remove the "recreational" component. The poppy fields turned into alpine meadows with quite impressive rocky peaks glowering in the distance.

Stopping off at the way in a country town we picked up supplies. Aron our guide seemed a bit taken aback when I interpreted this as the need for a large cardboard box full from the bottle shop.

We arrived at Cradle Mountain itself about 1pm, and as the weather was so good, decided to undertake the 6 hour round hike that very afternoon. It was a fair old trip, with the last hour involving a reasonable amount of scrambling. How the trainer clad, placcy bag carrying Japanese tourists manage it is beyond me, or come to think of it the 90 year old stooped pensioner we saw climbing down. The views from the top were well worth the walk, with views disappearing out into the mountains, in full sunshine and no heat haze.

That evening we arrived at our eco bunkroom cabin (i.e. composting toilets, solar heating and rainwater tanks), drank and ate, and found out that it's cold in the mountains at night, hazah for wood stoves!!