494

TPBTPBTP

I took this picture just a few hours ago, on the ferry over from the South Island to the North Island of New Zealand.  I had come onto one of the outside decks to get a last view of the South Island, where I’d had so much fun, seen so many beautiful things and met so many lovely people.  I was feeling quite sad.

The only other person there was the figure in the photo.  He was a Maori lad called Whetu and he is quietly strumming a ukulele and singing to himself.  I asked him to sing something in Maori for me and he did.  He said the song was called Te Arawa E and was sung at the time of departing - like Now Is The Hour, which is also a Maori song.

It was a beautiful situation and a lovely song - but it made me feel even sadder, as you can imagine.  When Whetu noticed this, he changed the song to Haere Mai - ‘Welcome here!’ - which is much more upbeat!

As he went below decks, he said ‘This boat is passing between two places. You are only sad because you’re looking in the wrong direction - at where you have been.  Maybe it would be better if you look at where you are going instead!’

‘Whetu’ means ‘star’ - I’ve just looked it up.

* * *
But I’m way ahead of myself.  Where were we?  Ah, yes...

On the way to the south coast

And yet more...

I woke up on my first morning thinking about Cyril.  I met him when I diverted off-route to take a look at the Kingston Flyer steam railway - but there was no-one there except me and Cyril and a rusty loco.  He told me he was from Sheffield and was on holiday in New Zealand taking photographs of old trains and giving lectures about spirituality.

That’s a combination of facts that would give anyone bad dreams.

* * *

The old Clifden Suspension Bridge

Halfway down to the south coast I came across the Clifden Suspension Bridge and a smashing family from Brisbane, who eagerly told me all about it, thus banishing Cyril altogether.

I met them again at Te Waewae Bay - the first time I saw the sea on my kiwi journey.  Luke took this photo.  They left me there to travel on to ‘the gemstone beach’.

I passed through Invercargill, the southernmost town in New Zealand.  Guide books say ‘it has yet to make an impression on the tourist trade’.  What they ought to say is ‘it’s truly and irredeemably awful’ because it is.

After a reviving cup of tea and a slice of banana bread (very popular here) I soon hit one of the landmarks of my trip.  It’s called Curio Bay and it’s the southernmost point on my journey.  I realised as I drove away into the Catlin Hills that, from now on, I was on my way home.

Curio Bay

The Catlins, by the way, are unbelievably pretty.  Endless gentle rolling hills, woods, streams and farms, all neatly clipped and marshalled.  Like dozens of Devons or Dorsets or Northumberlands that happily go on forever.

And then you get to the ‘Edinburgh of the south’ - Dunedin.  It’s a charmer of a city and was unsurprisingly founded by Scots settlers.  Here are Murray, Douglas, Athol, Dunblane, Peebles Streets.  And even Stuart Street - my first ever!

Guess which Scots poet this is a statue of...

I liked Dunedin - from the scrummy mushroom burger I had there to the wonders of the nearby Otago Peninsula, where I saw my first-ever albatross and wild penguins.

Stuart Street and Dunedin's lovely old railway station

* * *
Distance travelled so far - 14,189m / 22,835km

493

THE PLACES BEYOND THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES

 As we approached Queenstown, the chief air steward announced that 'the time now in New Zealand is 1230.  And the year in New Zealand is 1973.'  

His passengers needed all the humour they could get - landing at Queenstown's tiny airport was hair-raising.  The town and airport lie in very mountainous country and the plane descends through a steep-sided gorge so that the wings seem almost to touch the mountainsides the lower you get.  

It was all too much for the woman sitting next to me, who kept on saying 'O my God - I can count the leaves on the trees!'

This splendid sculpture of a Maori welcoming party greets you as you step out of the arrivals hall onto New Zealand territory.

 Not everything has gone quite according to plan on my journey.  At Hong Kong, I tripped over my own shoelace and fell arse over tit in the Baggage Claim hall.  I also snapped the shoelace.  I acquired a new pair from a street-cobbler in Wan Chai, who gave me them for nothing because I was 'so old'.  He looked to be in his 90s.

On the bus from the airport into Queenstown, my suitcase fell out of the bus.  I've never had a suitcase with four wheels before and I wasn't holding onto it tightly enough.  As the bus pulled up at a stop, it rolled down the central aisle and straight out through the centre doors.  The backpacker on the pavement has promised not to bring charges.

I'd calmed down by the time I reached my lakeside hotel in the town.  The view above was taken through my bedroom window; below is the view from the garden.  
It's Lake Wakatipu - and it gave me a taste of the splendours to come.  
The mountain range is called The Remarkables and they are well-named.

 I picked up my campervan the next morning - Sunday.  I'd spent the evening falling in love with Queenstown - a real charmer, and full of relaxed and exhausted bungee-jumpers, skiers, mountaineers, hikers and any other kind of adventure-seekers you care to name.  I really loved the lively, good-humoured atmosphere.

And, after Hong Kong, Singapore and Australia, it was so good to be cold again!

I forewent a Fergyburger - the queue was too long - and had a creamy vegetable pie from Queenstown's best baker instead.  The girl who served me was called Inga and was Danish.  She was so impressed that an English pensioner was flinging himself around the world that she gave me a very large slice of thick, New Zealand apple pie and two scoops of ice-cream for nothing.

I've tried to mention my travels as often as possible ever since - with mixed results.

NOTE:  Australians and Kiwis seem to have two main food obsessions - pies (of any kind) and fish 'n' chips, which seem to be obtainable everywhere and which Kiwis call 'fashion chaps' - it takes a while to get used to the accent.

Speaking of food...it's been no surprise to see so many branches of McDonald's everywhere but I had no idea that Subway was quite so universal.  There seems to be a branch of Subway in every town and village in New Zealand, no matter how small. 

My campervan's interior before I messed it up.  I'm sitting on that bench right now writing this blog.

 

 The first place I drove to was the local supermarket.  Still in ludicrous disbelief that I was in New Zealand and in charge of a campervan for the next two weeks, I kept taking pictures of it.  My pride wasn't matched by my parking skills, as you can see...

 My route to my first destination took me along the whole length of Lake Wakatipu, 

which just got lovelier and lovelier the further I travelled.

I mean - just look at that!

 See what I mean?  I just kept stopping - again and again.  It was a hard lesson to learn - if you keep stopping to look and take pictures each time a splendid view appears, 

you will never get anywhere in this sublimely beautiful country.

 My last two views of Lake Wakatipu...

Eventually, I managed to reach Te Anau in one piece.  I tried to remember what Jilly, at the campervan company, had told me - hook up the van to the on-site socket, switch on the gas supply and the water heater and the water-pump.  Amazingly, it all seemed to work as she'd described - and I made myself a celebratory cup of tea, as you do.

I was looking out over yet another vast lake to the fiord-like inlets in the mountainsides opposite.

And - as I have found out may times since those first nights - the air steward was quite right.  It is still 1973 in New Zealand.  Its people are trusting, good-humoured and unhurried.  They like to listen and they like to talk - to 'pass the time of day'.

Right now, it's only my fifth night here and I already know it will be heart-breaking to leave.

Distance travelled so far:  13,740 m / 22,112 km

Watch this space...

492

THE PLACES BEYOND THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES

 This is the first place I sat and people-watched in Sydney.  

It's the El Alamein fountain just up the street from my hotel in King's Cross. 

 It looks lovely at night - and the cafe on the right makes a very good cup of coffee

for tired travellers

This journey is starting to pass much quicker than I thought.  It's already Day 15 - I'm a third of the way through my adventure and there's so much I haven't told you...

As usual, I'm afraid, a sprinkling of photographs will have to serve as an update of my Grandest Tour Of All.

 Next morning I looked around King's Cross.  It has a reputation for being seedy, sleazy and disreputable - a reputation which, from my observations, it entirely deserves.

These lovely colonial houses are the other side of the story, though.  I loved King's Cross for its liveliness and honesty - it's what modern travel writers call 'cosmopolitan and bohemian'.

 These exotic-looking birds are Australian White Ibises - and they're as common as pigeons in Sydney.  The size of large gulls, they fuss around anyone who's eating or drinking on a park bench.

Strangely, not much is known about their lifestyle; the Botanic Garden Trust is carrying out research as I type.

 Speaking of the Botanic Garden...

My first view of Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House was from the air - the plane from Perth flew in over the city.  But that doesn't really count.  This was where I first caught sight of one of the world's most photographed structures.  It's inside the Royal Botanic Garden and the profusion of palms reminds you of how sub-tropical Sydney's climate is.

 15 different types of grass...

 A lunchtime office-worker doing some tai-chi in the Garden.  

I joined him for 10 minutes or so but felt far too self-conscious to stay...

 When you first see the Opera House in all its glory, you have no choice but to stand and stare.  That's how heart-stopping it is.  And then you stare some more.

The little jetty below the Opera House is Man O'War Quay...

 ...which is where I met the amazing Mark.

Every lunchtime, he runs across the Botanic Garden to the Quay, strips down to his trunks and jumps into Sydney Harbour for 10 minutes or so.  And then he runs back through the Garden to his office.

Everyone under about 35 seems to be involved in some sort of strenuous exercise for most of the time in Sydney - a truly pleasurable thing to observe, specially as short shorts are still worn by Sydney's menfolk...

 It's impossible to be anywhere near the Opera House without needing to look at it again and again, from every angle...

 If you look very, very carefully at this picture, you may be able to see - on the upper arch of the bridge, about centre-photo - what look like tiny bits of fluff sticking up.  They are people; and they're doing the Bridge Climb - 'the climb of your life'.  It takes a whole morning to climb all the way to the top and back again.  My nephew's done it and says it's awesome and I've decided to take his word for it.

 The Opera House roof shimmers and sparkles and glitters in the afternoon sunshine.

 This is where I rounded off my first day in Sydney - at the Circular Quay Oyster Bar.  I had a barramundiburger...

Oh dear.  I'll have to go now.  My flight to New Zealand has just been called....

Watch this space...

491

THE PLACES BEYOND THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES

It's the evening of the 13th day of my Great Adventure - and already I'm suffering from serious sensory overload.  Too many things seen and done.  Too many places visited and people met.  Too much to tell and not nearly enough time to give it all the justice it deserves.

Before I left Perth on Tuesday, I asked Janice to write down as much as possible about everything we'd done during our three wonderful days together....

SATURDAY...
Breakfast cooked by Kate.  (It was lovely, too - and included the nicest poached eggs I've ever tasted.)

Caversham Wildlife Centre (in Whiteman Park).  (That's where I met the kangaroos, as well as some snazzy 'agile wallabies', my beloved quokkas, two or three wombats and echidnas, innumerable exotically coloured parrots, parakeets, kookaburras and an emu or two.)

Swan Valley Wine Region - Lancaster Winery.  (The wine was lovely but I was surprised how expensive wine is in Australia - specially as it's locally made.)

Margaret River Chocolate Factory - over the road from the winery.  (This was lethal - the chocolate was scrummy and they gave you as much as you wanted to eat for free as long as you cheated and just queued up again.  They made the nicest sugar-free chocolate I've ever had.)

The Tap for pizzas and tapas ( - this was housed in a converted farm that used dozens of redundant wheelbarrows as flowerbeds - ) and then a change of clothes (in the toilets) for....

The ballet!

(A splendid Saturday night out in downtown Perth to see Onegin, danced by the Western Australian Ballet Company.  It was lovely - performed in His Majesty's Theatre - just about the oldest in Perth.  Sumptuous - and sooo nice of Janice to cater to my predilections.)

The drive home afterwards was via Northbridge  (the offbeat partying quarter of the city centre.  It was very lively indeed - and I even noticed a berainbowed gay pub called The Court, although - inexplicably - we didn't call in).

Needless to say, I was once again led astray by my hosts; we stayed up late, courtesy of good company and excellent wine.  Janice says we were up till 0300 but I have no recollection even of going to bed....

SUNDAY
Brian drove us to the ferry jetties in the city.  They're located by a monumental belltower but what catches your eye is the name of the pub nearby - The Lucky Shag.  Janice told me the innocent derivation of the name but I didn't believe a word of it.

We boarded the ferry to Fremantle here - the James Stirling.  (Note:  From now on, I'll be referring to the town as Freo, as the locals do.)

It was a wildly windy and squally day - which made the trip down the Swan River to Freo even more dramatic.  I say 'river'.  It's much more like a very large inlet of the sea.  It's enormous...

The bloke swabbing the decks of the James Stirling was from Bristol....

Freo is the port of Perth.  Unlike Perth, though, it's late Victorian and Edwardian town centre is almost perfectly preserved.  It's really lovely - and compact enough to walk around.  So that's what we did.

We passed the celebrations of National Talk Like A Pirate Day on the esplanade - complete with a saucy troop of Morris dancers called the Mad Tatters - to the main street, part of which is nicknamed the Cappuccino Strip.  That's the sort of upmarket place Freo has become.

Blue and white balloons and bunting were everywhere.  The Dockers - the local Aussie Rules Football team - had reached the national final for the first time in 17 years.  The whole town was talking about little else and Let's Go Freo was adorning shop windows, Tshirts, and the exteriors of large buildings - even back in Perth. The final is this upcoming weekend.

Let's Go Freo....

I liked Freo a lot.  I liked the 60s, flower-power feel of its indoor market.  I liked Cheryl, who served up my first taste of 'silverside' - boiled Australian corned beef - with sweet mustard pickle.  I liked silverside, too.  I even liked the vegemite sandwich she suddenly appeared with.  Thanks, Cheryl.

(Note:  When you get back, start up a new business in Grainger Market selling Bubble Tea.  It's very, very good...)

So it was back to Perth.  To Phoebes the dog and Cat the cat.  To pasta and salad - and talk talk talk - and wine.  Always lovely local West Australian wine...

MONDAY
But time is running out now.  It's getting late here in Sydney.  Once again, so much that I have to tell will have to wait.  The overnight cyclone, the Monday morning seafront breakfast, the train trip to Perth, the wonderful and surprising art gallery, the garden of the mystic number 7, wandering at dusk in King's Park - up a-height and looking down over this astonishing and vigorous city from the memorial at the hill's edge - with its eternal flame - as the lights came on below us.

Full days.  Happy days.  And they ended with champagne and strawberries - and a live video chat with my brother and his wife back home in England.  How very lucky we are to live in an age when such things are possible.

We were all together on that final night.  The way it should be.  I had travelled across the world to see my cousin and her family and had soaked up every single second of their company.

Now I really know what 'unforgettable' means.

* * *
Here's my problem...

I've already been in Sydney for two days.  I haven't told you about my flight from Perth or my hotel here.  I haven't told you about where I've been or what I've done.  I have loads of photos to show you.

But when?  I'm just so busy doing my journey that I'm finding it difficult to find the time to write it all down!

* * *
Distance travelled so far...
12,364m / 19,898km

Watch this space... 

490

THE PLACES BEYOND THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES...

 Leaving Singapore wasn't easy.  The dense, intoxicating bustle of Chinatown - senses, noise, aromas of a hundred varieties of food, the babble of dozens of languages from all over the world....I don't think I've ever been inside such a melting pot of cultures and traditions.

The first four pictures here are of the Thian Hock Keng Temple at the foot of Chinatown - I visited it on my last morning in Singapore and was mesmerised by it.  How can something so flamboyant and florid exude such auras of calm and tranquillity?  And how can it subsist like this surrounded - as it is - by the high-rise wealth of one of the most powerful economies in Asia?

 These lanterns adorned the Temple of the Buddha Tooth Relic - their gentle waving in the wind 

was almost the last thing I saw in Chinatown before I trundled myself and my suitcase off to the airport...

 ...where this World War II propeller has been mounted as a rotating sculpture.  I drank my last Singaporean cuppa looking at it (sweating profusely in the equatorial humidity) - 

and then it was time for flight number three - to Perth

 My Mam had a brother - my Uncle Deryck - and his daughter - my cousin Janice - emigrated to Perth almost ten years ago with her husband Brian and their children Kate (on the left) and Jon.

As you can imagine, the reunion at Perth airport was emotional, highly-charged - and utterly wonderful.

Janice and her family are now Australian citizens and, I'm glad to say, have acquired the splendid national enthusiasm for good wine - which they produce themselves in vast vineyards and drink happily into the night with their long-lost cousins.  My first night there was the same as my second, third and fourth - remarkable for the fact that I can't remember much of what happened after about 0200.

(Except for the Grade 2 Cyclone that swept in off the Indian Ocean on Sunday night.)

The lass on the left, above, is Kate, who painted the left-hand picture.  

And painting is only one of her many talents.  She'll go far, that girl.

 The street where they live.  Extravagant spaciousness like this is far from uncommon.

As we drove from the airport, a kangaroo appeared from between the houses in a street just like this.  Needless to say, I squealed with childish excitement

 The Australian reputation for open friendliness is well-deserved; I chatted happily to these two in the local post office ( - the bloke is an emigre from Preston).

 And this is Brian with Cheryl at the local wildlife centre.  She was an absolute jewel.

 One of the kangaroos in the wildlife park.  As you can see, she has a joey in her pouch.  I'm not kidding - I was absolutely THRILLED to see this - and to walk about freely amongst the kangaroos.  Utterly and completely captivating - unforgettable...words fail me (for once).

 These two splendid animals cuddled up together are quokkas.  They're a highly endangered species almost entirely limited to Rottnest Island, just off the coast near Perth.

And they're LOVELY.  

 Once again, words fail me.  This was one of those rare experiences that are almost designed to stay in your mind and in your heart for the rest of your life.  This is what my journey is all about.

Box ticked.

Me and Janice.

Isn't she GORGEOUS?

Distance travelled so far...10,317 m / 16,604 km

Watch this space...