Christmas was once again spent away from family this year, but this year would at least be exciting. One of my friends and I decided to head west from Glasgow to Oban with some stops along the way. When I moved back to Glasgow from Australia a year ago, a friend of one of my friends was looking at a wall map of the British Isles in my flat, pointed to an area south of Oban, and said, "You must go here, to Kilmartin Glen." He said that Kilmartin Glen is one of the most overlooked destinations for anyone interested in Scottish history and neolithic sites. So, after a day of recovering form boxing day laziness, we headed out from Glasgow.
Driving along the A83 between Loch Lomond and Inverary
Winter is an absolutely beautiful time to visit Scotland. Sure, the days are incredibly short, but the snow on the hills makes it unlike anywhere else. Once away from the main cities, the roads get narrow and windy, which makes for getting anywhere quickly quite tricky! It took us a while to get out to Kilmartin Glen, via a coffee stop in Inverary, but a little after noon we pulled into our first stop, Dunadd, which was the first site of the first kings of Scotland, having been in use since the Iron Age. On the little hill above the glen is a rock with some footprints carved into them, possibly where the kings looked out - I imagine much like Mufasa and Simba from Pride Rock :)
A little bit further down the road are a series of standing stones dating back 5,000 years. We missed the winter solstice only by a few days, but it's pretty amazing how these stones would have lined up with the setting sun, even after 5,000 years! I'm often really amazed by how after thousands of years, and with all of our modern technology and knowledge, we still have no real idea what these stones or circles were used for! And while not as grand as the Ring of Brodgar in Orkney or as circular as the Drombeg Stone Circle in southwest Ireland, the stones are just as enigmatic, and there are a lot of them, including one site where five stones make an X figure in a field, apparently a very unusual arrangement. Starving, we stopped in at the Kilmartin Hotel and had a tasty pub supper before exploring the curchyard across the street with brilliant scenery looking down the Glen.
There were still a few things we wanted to see before it got dark and before we got to Oban, and even though it was only 3 o'clock in the afternoon, we were running short on daylight, so we hit the road again, winding around the coast, to the Bridge over the Atlantic. To be fair, this is a very nice looking stone bridge, arching high over a small tidal waterway, technically part of the Atlantic Ocean, separating the Scottish mainland from the small Isle of Seil. Apparently nowhere else (maybe in Scotland) is there a bridge over the Atlantic, so it is only here you can say you've "driven across the Atlantic Ocean." Not really much to see, we kept on to the small town on Seil of Ellenabeich, an old slate mining town that now consists of three rows of whitewash cottages. A beautifully small town that I would have liked to have stayed in a bit longer. Would have been a great place to write up my PhD thesis! While in Ellenabeich, the sun went down and we didn't want to be stuck on unlit country roads for too long, so we headed in to Oban, checked into our hotel, and met up with one of my Uni friends who was home visiting family for the holidays.
Snow-capped mountains on the Isle of Mull with Duart Castle in the foreground from the ferry from Oban to Mull.
We got up early the next morning, a brilliantly clear but chilly morning, to catch the ferry from Oban out to the Isle of Mull, a rugged island about an hour offshore from Oban. The views from the ferry back to the mainland of snow capped mountains were amazing, not to mention the snow capped peaks of Ben More, the only Munro on Mull. A little note for visiting Mull in the winter: Don't plan on relying on public transportation, especially on a Sunday! We were lucky to have a Range Rover, so the small single-track roads and ruts of Mull were a piece of cake, but be careful if you have a smaller car not to go off the edge of the road or you will get stuck! We headed immediately out to the westernmost point of Mull, a town called, Fionnphort, where we waited for the quick ferry out to the small Isle of Iona. Again, visiting in the winter and on a Sunday, you run the risk of either the ferry not running, or only making one trip out to Iona, but not back, so it's suggested you call the portmaster on Mull the day before to make sure the ferries are running!
Iona Abbey
The sky was crystal clear, and though it wasn't windy, it was really cold! But while waiting for the ferry we did get to see a small fishing boat loading up for the day, and it must be quite a regular occasion because there was a seal who sidled right up to the boat begging for a bit of breakfast! The ferry finally arrived and we walked on, making sure to ensure it would come back from Iona! Now, Iona is a beautiful little island and I wish we had more time to spend there, but with the two hours we did, we made sure to walk over to the famed Iona Abbey, the former Catholic monastery where the Book of Kells was written. The Abbey survived Viking raids as well as the Protestant Reformation, and is now part of the Church of Scotland. So many tourists come out to Iona in the summer, it was nice to experience the island in winter when even the hostels were closed for the season! BUT, if you go on the weekend, you don't have to pay to get in to the grounds! We took a little walk up to the highest point on Iona, Dun I, for some breathtaking views to Mull and so many other Inner Hebridean islands.
Running short on time, we headed back to the ferry and crossed back over to Fionnphort, accompanied by dolphins jumping out of the water and playing in the wake of the ferry! Back in the car, we decided to take the small winding road around the rest of Mull. Now, I thought the road from the Mull ferry to Fionnphort was small, but it was nothing compared to the B8035, which was tucked right along the coast with rocky cliffs on one side, but provided amazing scenery, especially during sunset on such a clear day! The B8035 turns onto the B8073 and the road climbs up some very steep hills that any small car would have some trouble getting up! If you're in a small car, you definitely want to take the B8073 counterclockwise from Tobermory where it will be easier to go down these roads than up. Daylight was nearly gone as we arrived to Calgary Beach in the small locality of Calgary, the same that the Canadian metropolis is named after! But we couldn't stay long since the sun had now set and we still had about 30 minutes to drive to Tobermory for a quick fish dinner (not many places open on a winter Sunday), very quick because we had to get back down to the ferry docks to catch the last ferry back to the mainland.
Gylen Castle on the southern end of Kerrera
The following morning was yet again a clear day on the western Scottish coast, though much colder! Not wanting to waste time, we grabbed some breakfast and went to the small local ferry from Oban out to the small island, Kerrera. A privately-owned ferry, you signal the owner that you want a ride by sliding a big panel open on the mainland, revealing a big black square, and upon seeing it, the ferryman comes over to pick you up for the 5 minute crossing. We decided to do the 3.5 hour loop down to Gylen Castle at the southern end of the Island and back. Though not a strenuous walk, it felt long because it was so cold, especially in the shade, but the destination was amazing - a square castle with a small footprint exposed on a tall rocky knob over the coast. The castle was besieged and burned in 1647, though recently the Clan MacDougall began restorations. It's surely not much of a castle, but its position in the grassy hills along the coast sure makes it a great place that we had to ourselves! The rest of the circuit along the west side of the island isn't as scenic, and was a bit mushy underfoot, but there were a few brilliant moments in the setting sunlight over to Mull. Back in time for the ferry back to the mainland, we hopped back into the car and headed back up to Oban to pick up my friend who was coming with us back to Glasgow, and with that we were off back home.
Though I think we lucked out, weather-wise, the weekend was a great and most welcome break from city life in Glasgow, and so easy for a few days! Enjoy the photos:
Right, so continuing on this trend of finally writing backed-up blog posts, this one's a monster simply because of the photos I had to reorganise to get here! Last December, though, I had the great pleasure of being able to tag along and help teach a glacial geology and geomorphology field trip to the central region of New Zealand's South Island. Having been to the North Island and having experienced the northern- and western-most points of the North Island and explored the watery wonderland of the Bay of Islands, I was totally pumped to get to some of the more staggering New Zealand scenery we all know from Lord of the Rings!
After three hours of one of the most turbulent flights I'd been on in a while (and I'd just return to Sydney from a trip to Denver and Vermont), we landed in Queenstown, the adventure capital of New Zealand. The flight in over the Southern Alps was beautiful. Being early December, New Zealand was just emerging from winter and all of the mountains still had substantial snow on them! We wasted no time in picking up our three passenger buses and trailer, and with 24 student in tow, set right off out of Queenstown to the Kawarau Bridge, famous for being the original bungee jump in New Zealand. Of course, we were there to learn about New Zealand's past glacial geology, climate, and geomorphology - or how the landscapes develop and change through time. Along the first few days the students would be presenting small mini-reports on different aspects of these topics and we weren't letting any second go to waste!
After learning about New Zealand's loess deposits, accumulations of wind-blown dust that were deposited under colder dryer conditions during the last glacial period, we headed off the main highway, taking the Crown Range Road to Wanaka where we'd spend the first night. We stayed at a small hostel/motor park near the shores of Lake Wanaka, which fills one of the many glacially-sculpted valleys east of the Southern Alps, including Lakes Wakatipu, Ohau, Pukaki, and Tekapo. Early the next morning, I got up early for a short walk along the lake, looking out across to the beautiful Mt. Alta rising across the shores. Our destination by the end of the day was Mt. Cook Village in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park, but we had plenty of stops to make before calling it a day.
Purple lupin growing at the Clay Cliffs near Omarama
We took Lindi's Pass toward Omarama before doubling back across the Ahuriri River to the Clay Cliffs, a geological formation of very soft rocks exposed along the active Osler Fault. The cliffs are a deeply dissected feature that is the site of an ongoing battle between the uplifting tectonic fault and erosion. We stayed here for a short while and had lunch along the Ahuriri River, a beautiful place to dip your feet in the refreshing water and have a bite to eat. We made one more stop to the former river outlet of Lake Pukaki before it was dammed and diverted but also had time to stop at the southern end of Lake Pukaki to get a sense of what we were in for for the next few days.
Aoraki/Mt. Cook (3,724 m/12,218 ft) looming over Lake Pukaki
The weather was bright and sunny and fairly few clouds against a blue sky, and from here, far off in the distance, was the brilliantly majestic peak of Aoraki (or Mt. Cook), the highest point in New Zealand at 3,724 meters (12,218 ft) above sea level! We had to stop here because the view was simply breathtaking, and because Aoraki is apparently often shrouded in clouds, we thought this might be our only chance to see its entire height! And I should mention Lake Pukaki because it was amazing in its own way. There is so much powdered rock, crushed by glacial erosion that gets washed into the lake that it takes on a very milky appearance which reflects the sky on a sunny day, turning it a turquoise colour that is really only best matched by a Crayola crayon of the same colour!
It was windy, so we got back into the vans and started the fairly long drive down the Mt. Cook Road toward Mt. Cook Village, the views along which were absolutely stunning. I'm jealous of the students in my van because they got to stare out the windows the entire time, while I had to keep my eyes on the road. But if you want a fun road to drive along, this is one of them. It just rolls and wraps its way long the lake and the ever-impressive Southern Alps just keep looming in the distance! Well, if the drive wasn't thrilling enough, once you're past the head of the lake, you begin driving through the wide and flat river valley that drains the Mueller, Tasman, and Hooker Lakes which are all fed by glaciers. And while you can't see the glaciers, as they are hidden by huge glacial moraines and tucked away around the mountains, you do see the incredible wall of ICE that is known as the Huddleston Glacier, which frankly, I thought was one of the most impressive things I've ever seen! It's just this massive, steep wall of ice that you just couldn't stop looking at!
Looking down to the Mt. Cook Village from the Red Tarns. The Huddleston Glacier is the big wall of ice plastered
on the side of the Southern Alps in the distance. Mueller Lake and its end moraine seen in the bottom of the valley.
Aoraki (the Maori name for Mt. Cook) features prominently in Maori history. The Maori people believed the South Island to be a canoe that Aoraki and his brothers were using to voyage the world. It tipped and the brothers climbed onto the top of the overturned canoe and turned to stone. Geologically, Mt. Cook is positioned in the Southern Alps which are the result of convergence along the Alpine Fault which is the boundary between the Indo-Australian tectonic plate and the Pacific plate. The fault is mostly a dexteral strike-slip fault, but there is oblique convergence which has uplifted the mountains on the South Island. It is the Alpine Fault that causes most of the earthquakes in New Zealand, and also as it cuts across the north part of the South Island it goes offshore east of the North Island where subduction of the Pacific plate under the Indo-Australian plate results in the volcanism the North Island is famed for!
Well, while all of the students were excited to get out of the vans and start eating and drinking for the night, I had picked up a wee trail map and having heard that weather is rarely clear in the park, I thought I'd take advantage of it by doing a short hike up to the Red Tarns, some small ponds perched high up the mountains above Mt. Cook Village. Luckily summer in the Southern Hemisphere means plenty of light late into the evening, so I didn't have much to worry about - other than breaking my ankle with no one around! Well, the hike up was unrelentlessly steep, but I eventually made it to the tarns, which in and of themselves aren't that impressive, but you don't make that kind of hike to look at a pond, but for the view of the rest of the valley. Up here, you're so high up above the valley that you can see up and over Mt. Wakefield to Mt. Cook as well as up the Tasman River valley to The Armchair and Malcher Peak. The weather was holding up, so I decided to climb even higher to the shoulder of Sebastopol, the lowest peak in the National Park. Catching my breath, I decided my hunger would win over my want to reach the summit, so I raced down a big scree slope and headed back to dinner at the Mt. Cook Village.
The Huddleston Glacier and Mt. Sefton (left), Aoraki/Mt. Cook (right), and the Mueller
Glacier's end massive end-moraine (centre-bottom)
Weather was clear the next morning again, blue skies and few clouds, so I walked up toward The Hermitage - the famously fancy resort hotel in the National Park that looks directly over to Mt. Cook - for a few morning photos before joining back up with the students. We drove up to the Mueller Glacier overlook for a few more student talks. During one of the talks, we all of a sudden heard this huge crack that sounded like thunder, followed by a cascade of booms and crashes. It was so startling that everyone turned their heads to the glaciers behind us. Though we couldn't see anything, it was pretty obvious we'd just heard a massive block of ice break off the Huddleston Glacier, falling down onto the Mueller Glacier below. Coincidentally, the student giving his report was just talking about ice falls. Talk about timing!
Icebergs from the Hooker Glacier floating in Hooker Lake
Once the student talks were done, we started the long hike up to Hooker Lake and the Hooker Glacier that sits right at the base of Mt. Cook. We continued to hear booms of breaking ice behind us during the hour-long walk up to Hooker Lake, which was cool, but the weather turned, which was not. We could see the clouds rising up from the west and flowing over the mountain tops to our left as the wind picked up and threatened to rain us in. But, being geologists, we go out in anything and this certainly didn't stop us and the last few students presented their mini-reports. You couldn't really see the mountain peaks by this point, but you could still get great views over Hooker Lake which was just chockers full of icebergs in various stages of melting, all shapes and sizes! By the time we left Hooker Lake, the weather had cleared up once again, permitting us to drive around to the next valley over to the Tasman Glacier and Lake.
Lake Tasman is a recent feature to the landscape, having only formed in the last 40 years after the Tasman Glacier (left)
retreated to its current position!
Lake Tasman is impressive, if not for its size (7 kilometres long!), for the fact that 40 years ago, it was not there! Forty years ago the Tasman Glacier's terminus was at the lookout most visitors take the short walk up to from the car park. Now, however, Tasman Glacier ends in the lake and icebergs calve off its front. Though the retreat is impressive and offers the opportunity to take speed boat tours around the lake, it just means our changing climate is killing off these magnificent glaciers!
We headed back out of Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park toward the town of Twizel where we'd be based for the remainder of the trip. Over the next 5-6 days, the students would be working on small group projects in the area, and we, the trip leaders, would drive them wherever they needed to go. But first, we had another stop to get to up beyond Lake Ohau on the other side of Twizel. By the time we got beyond the shores of Lake Ohau, the weather came back with a vengeance.
The next day was fairly uneventful. The rough weather had cleared up and the students used the day to plan their projects. Twizel itself is a pretty dull town. It was founded as a working camp during the construction of the dams that were built on Lake Ohau, but remained a popular stopover point for travelers going to Mt. Cook (not to mention cheaper than staying in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. While there are some nice coffee shops and cafes in the main shopping area, there isn't much to speak of - especially of the locals. While eating dinner at the Power Station Bistro I noticed one man down his beer outside and promptly walk to a short brick wall and urinate on it! Welcome to Twizel, indeed!
I played chauffer for students heading up back into Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park over the next three days to collect data for their projects. Depending on which group was where, and when they needed to get to their next stops, I often had anywhere from an hour to a few hours by myself before I had to meet any of the students and move them. This was nice because it gave me time to do a few shorter walks and explore the park a bit more. One of the days I walked up the Mueller Glacier trail to see the head of the glacier which had retreated around the corner of its valley, out of sight from the main view point. Right at the bottom of the Huddleston Glacier. No one else was up this far and I enjoy sitting in the sun in the middle of this amazing landscape. I felt so fortunate to be able to experience it in all its sun-shiny glory!
Suspension footbridge over the Hooker River. Aoraki/Mt. Cook shrouded in clouds
I also joined a few student groups on their quests to collect field data. This varied from walking up along the crest of the lateral moraine along the edge of Tasman Lake looking for students who had gotten well-ahead of me, helping students measure boulder dimensions in streams coming down from creeks draining the steep valleys to the west of Mt. Cook Village, and taking one more walk up to the iceberg choked Hooker Lake.
I had no plans to see any more of the South Island on this trip, and though I was a bit let down about not being able to do that before arriving, I don't think I could have asked for a more amazing experience that just being able to wander and explore the Hooker and Tasman Valleys in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. It really must be one of the most spectacular landscapes I've been to. It's drastic, but accessible; staggeringly expansive, but easy to get around; busy with tourists, but big enough that you don't have to go far to get away from them!
Pianist playing his own music during a beautiful Queenstown sunset
over Lake Wakatipu
The students had a final day in Twizel to write up and hand in their reports, so the last day near the mountains wasn't all that exciting. Finally, we were ready to leave Twizel and made the long drive back to Queenstown for our last night in New Zealand. We arrived early afternoon and many of us had previously signed up to go whitewater rafting to celebrate the end of a long week. We dropped our things off at the hostel and met down in the town at Queenstown Rafting where we were fitted up with wetsuits and packed into large vans with a trailer packed with rafts in tow behind us. This is no big deal, except to get to the launch site, we had to drive down Skippers Road, a long, very tightly-winding road that is cut into the side of mountains with very steep slopes! To put it in perspective, if you sat next to the window, you couldn't see the edge of the road and it looked like there was nothing beneath the van! In fact in one or two places, there almost wasn't anything beneath the van... One tight turn has been so abused that the edge of the road has eroded to the point that side of the van on the inside of the road gets scratched by the rocks sticking out of the slope! At another point on Skippers Road, the road appears to be intact, but when you look back up at it from the river, you see that a big chunk of rock, that would otherwise support the road, has simply fallen away! If you're afraid of this kind of driving, there's no hope for you because no matter which side of the van you sit on, you're going to be exposed to one of these hazards!!!
But the rafting itself was awesome! I've only been whitewater rafting once before on the New River in West Virginia where the water levels that year were low enough that the big rapids had diminished many of the rapids, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Well, the Shotover River is pretty much a narrow, narrow canyon with rocky cliffs on either side and in most places the river is as wide as the raft! I've got to give it to the raft guides because they have some of the hardest jobs in the world in keeping us all safe! While we didn't flip, like we did on the New River, there were so many times I thought we were goners! Two girls did fall out at one point, but we safely got them back on the raft just before they were pinned between the rocks and raft! The trip culminates a tunnel that was blasted into the mountianside to funnel water for gold mining in the mid-1800s, the final rapid is shooting down the mill run right where every raft in front of us was waiting and watching, hoping someone would flip. We didn't, but had a great time and it was an awesomely adventurous way to end a week in New Zealand!
That night was spent out in Queenstown watching a beautiful sunset over Lake Wakatipu and eventually some mechanical bull-riding in one of the town's innumerable options of Western/Cowboy-themed bars. Flights back to Sydney the next afternoon gave me a little bit of time to walk around the local Saturday markets along the lakeshore in what ended up being a very nice sunny relaxing way to end my last visit to New Zealand in a long time! Definitely not the last, but a long time at least!
Note: I am well beyond an outsider in Australia and there is a lot to learn about the Aboriginal cultures and ways of life. It is and can be a very sensitive topic in many Australian communities and if my wording or interpretation of what I learned is incorrect or offensive, please let me know. I am trying to be as truthful and as historically and culturally accurate as possible. Thanks!
Over the last few months, I've been watching the airline sales in Australia like a hawk. I was about halfway through my time in Australia for my PhD and was feeling a bit of a mid-Aussie-crisis and realised I might not get to see everything I wanted to if I didn't hurry. I'd planned to visit Australia's Red Centre in the southern Northern Territories in January when I have a bit more time, but then it dawned on me that the weather in the outback in January can be brutally hot! Then, a sale came in from Tiger Airways, from Sydney to Alice Springs and I just decided to book it. Now that I'm sitting in the airport waiting to head back home to Sydney, it was well worth the time off.
Alice Springs from ANZAC Hill and the western MacDonnell Ranges
Alice Springs is not a large town by Australian standards, though it is no tiny burb either. Because of its relative proximity to some of the outback's most famous sites, notably Uluru (the largest rock in the world), Kata Tjuta (aka The Olgas), and Kings Canyon, Alice receives a lot of tourism traffic by air as Aussies and backpackers alike flock here from all over the coastal towns and cities. Alice Springs has a more important place in modern Australian history, however, as being a telegraph relay station between Darwin on the northern coast of the Northern Territories and Adelaide on the southern shores of South Australia. The town even gets is Aussie name from a small pool of water seen near the Telegraph Station a few kilometres north of the present city, a rarity in the dry centre. In fact the pool of water was a temporary puddle, really - a result of previous rains which flooded the Todd River (which is otherwise a dry riverbed). For a short period of time in Australian history, there was a 9th territory - Central Australia - of which Alice Springs was its capital city. Eventually Central Australia merged with the Northern Territories and ceased to exist, but that didn't stop Alice Springs from remaining an important town in the otherwise desolate Ausralian Outback.
To the local Arrernte communities the land around Alice Springs was created by ancestral beings that created the landscape. Specifically, the MacDonnell Ranges were formed by three caterpillars moving across the country, digging their way through the land as they passed Alice Springs. Red river gums, found growing in the dry Todd River bed are sacred and believed to be ancient ancestor caterpillars as well. Another story involves a fight between an ancestral dingo and an anonymous adversary who both fought over a woman and in the midst of their fights created parts of the surrounding mountains including Mt. Gillen, a prominent point on the nearest mountain. The Aboriginal Australians have a deep connection with their surroundings because these ancestral beings formed every part of the landscape as they moved around and so these creation stories, or Dreamtime stories, form the foundation for all rules of social, political, and religious life in Aboriginal communities.
When I arrived in Alice Springs Saturday mid-day, I wasn't expecting much to be going on and thought I'd spend some time at the Natural History Museum, a few kilometres west of the town centre. After chatting to the receptionist at the YHA Hostel (a very nice hostel and in a great location) suggested a few other ideas and I settled on walking out of the city to the north where the original Telegraph Station was located. It was a beautiful walk through rocky sandstone and granite outcrops, red river gums, desert oaks, and beautiful wildflowers along the dry and dusty riverbed of the Todd River. The sun was roasting at midday but I finally reached the Telegraph Station after about an hour of walking only to find that there was a $9 fee to get in to the historic site. The very friendly lady (please note copious amounts of sarcasm here) working the small shop scoffed when I asked if there were student discounts and when I asked if there was anything to see without paying, she just pointed to the exit. So I walked around the fence enclosing the historic compound and then up a hill on which one of the Australian trig points, used as reference points for geographic mapping, was located and snapped a few photos of the MacDonnell Ranges to the west.
The US military personnel from nearby Pine Gap racing the ANZAC
servicemen in the hotly contested annual competition. The US
regained the winning title after last year's loss
Heading back into town along the River Walk I was in for a surprise. Contrary to my Lonely Planet Australia Guide (whose Alice Springs information urgently needs to be completely revamped!), one of the small city's most well-known and exciting events was happening on my arrival day: the Henley-on-Todd Regatta. Even though there is rarely any water flowing along the Todd River through Alice Springs, it is the site of one of Australia's most famous sailing races. Instead of actually sailing on water, the boats used in this regatta are just metal framed, canvas-wrapped "boats" that are picked up by the sailors and run along the race course on the dry river bed and back to the starting point. Hosted by the Mayor of Alice Springs and a number of other emcees, the boats are sponsored by local businesses and anyone in town, or from anywhere in Australia (or the world), can compete in various events including kayak, mini-yacht, and big-yacht races, hampster wheel relays, and tug-o-war for various age groups.
One of the main highlights of the event is a big-yacht race between the Australians and the Americans (military personnel from a nearby station). Apparently last year the Australians were the victors, but the Americans, racing in the USS Mayflower, prevailed this year and were quickly riddled by tongue-in-cheeck humour from the emcees but to great applause from the crowd who are just there for a good time. (The Americans also won the tug-o-war competition, as well, I might add!)
The Navy (left), The Vikings (centre), and The Pirates (right)
But the day's events culminate in the largest gunship battle to occur on Australian soil every year. Right at 4:30 three "ships" built onto the back of large trucks representing the Vikings, the Navy, and the Pirates enter the arena and drive around battling each other. The ships launch water balloons, fire coloured saw-dust canons, and hose each other down with high-pressure water guns all while trying to evade attacks from the other ships as the crowd cheers them on. Even though the Vikings were the first to run out of water and most-bullied by the Navy and Pirates, they seemed to be a long-time crowd favourite though it was the Pirates who came away victorious this year. The poor Navy lost despite their high-energy attacks and subsequently endured a host of adult-humoured, Village People, seamen-themed jokes from the announcers.
Interestingly enough, the Henley-on-Todd is probably the only regatta in the world to be cancelled due to wet weather as the usually dry riverbed surges with flash-flood waters flowing through the city (and this has happened at least once!).
After the Henley-on-Todd finished, I made my way up Alice Springs ANZAC hill where their memorial honouring fallen, former, and current armed service men and women dominates the town's skyline for a beautiful sunset over the western MacDonnell Ranges. It was my first taste for an outback sundown and what a sunset it was! The ever-present dust in the air in central Australia makes for beautiful red and blue sunsets and the silhouettes of the denuded mountains to the west made for a spectacular end to a great day.
Once the sun went down I found some quick take-away and went to bed since I was getting picked up the next morning for my 3-day outback tour.
On my last day in Tasmania, Danielle had to do some work and dropped me off at the harbour in downtown Hobart. I bought a ticket for a ferry and admission to one of Australia's - if not the world's - premiere museums: the Museuem of Old and New Art (MONA). Before the ferry left, I spent about two hours walking around town and visiting the Tasmanian Museum where I learned more about the Tasmanian Tiger.
Hobart Post Office, Tasmania
The Tasmanian Tiger was the island's main predator before the arrival of Europeans. Once Europeans began grazing sheep in Tasmania the Tasmanian tigers were considered a nuisance because of their taste for sheep. The government put a bounty on every Tassie tiger that was killed and before long the only tigers left in existence were caged in zoos. But even that didn't last long and in the early 1900s the last Tassie tiger at the Hobart Zoo died. The tigers have not been seen since and the species is considered all but extinct. I say all but extinct because there is a very very VERY slight possibility that a population of tigers may have survived in the vast wilderness that covers Tasmania's southeast. Expeditions and surveys to find any remaining tigers have returned inconclusive. In the 1930s, after the last zoo tiger died, a biologist went looking for wild tigers and found footprints, but never found any tigers. Some people believe they still exist and sightings are reported but unconfirmed. I'd like to believe that life found a way and that some do exist, eluding humans for nearly a century. I like to believe this because the same story exists with mountain lions of Vermont - the catamount. While reports of them surface every now and then, there is no biological evidence that they still exist. But a few years ago, my Masters supervisor and I were driving to New York and on the rural highways of Vermont a large cat ran across the road in front of us. The cat we saw was definitely a cat, and much larger than a bobcat (which is larger than a housecat - or even a feral cat). To this day, I swear we saw a catamount and because of that I hold high hopes that the Tassie Tiger has cleverly maintained low populations in Tasmania's vast wildernesses.
Mt. Wellington looming above Hobart Harbour
Soon enough, I boarded the ferry from the city centre out along Port Arthur to the museum which is some distance up the River Derwent. The Lonely Planet guide for Australia says that this museum is one that is NOT TO BE MISSED and that it is "a veritable Disneyland for adults." Built right into the sandstone along the waterfront, the huge underground museum is home to a myriad of old and new art pieces including sarcophaguses, Aboriginal Australian art, modern sculpture art, interactive art, and modern paintings. Some of the exhibits I found utterly fascinating like "Kryptos" a dimly lit maze leading to an inner room; along the walls of "Kryptos" are words from the Epic of Gilgamesh in binary code and you get the sense you are entombing yourself as you walk toward the centre. Other pieces I liked included a huge wall of small Aboriginal paintings that fit together to form a much larger mural. There was also a room with a series of lightbulbs overhead. Visitors could take turns holding a handle of sorts which would record the pulse of their heartbeat and the lightbulb directly overhead would begin flashing in sync with your heartbeat. As each new visitor lit their lightbulb, the previous visitor's bulb would move down the line through a room that must have had hundreds of randomly flashing heart beats. But then there was the weird art, like a machine that was designed to replicated exactly the human digestive system. Every day the machine is fed food from the cafeteria and at 2pm the machine poops. Yes. This machine literally poops. It was disgusting and I don't really understand how it is considered art. Nevertheless, the day at MONA was absolutely a day worth the price of admission and I suggest anyone going to Hobart visit the museum because there is something for everyone there!
"Kryptos" at MONA
I took the ferry back into the city and Danielle met me down at the wharf and we walked over to Salamanca Markets, some of the oldest preserved buildings near Hobart's waterfront that now boast the city's best restaurants and shopping venues. We had delicious pizza from Cargo Bar and then stopped a few doors down at Jack Greene for a drink before heading back to her apartment for the night.
The night wasn't quite over yet as a huge full moon rose in the east and I couldn't help but run outside with my camera and try to capture this beautiful setting. We'll call it a mild success as I need a tripod!
The next morning, Danielle drove me out to the airport and I all too quickly found myself on my way back to Sydney. The five days in Tasmania were absolutely stunning with their jaw-dropping scenery, amazing food, wonderful people, cultural experiences, and wildlife encounters. It made working all through my Easter holiday weekend worth it. But, of course, like all of my trips, there is still so much I need to see in Tasmania and I am already planning my next trip back where I'll tackle Launceston, Cradle Mountain, and maybe even hike the Overland Trek! But that has to wait until another time.
Tasmania: Australia's Island State. Go there. You'll love it!
I woke up early in the morning at the YHA in Strahan, packed up my things, and loaded my bags into my rental car, and drove down to the Esplanade in the town centre for my first (and only) ANZAC Day Dawn Service. The Australia and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) was the first organised armed services of both countries and were first deployed in World War I at the Battle of Gallipoli which was an effort by the Allies to capture Constantinople and thus monitor/block all sea trade to Russia (thanks, Wikipedia). What I did not have to look up, though, was that the battle was not successful for the Allied Forces and many Australians and New Zealanders lost their lives. ANZAC Day memorialises this Battle as well as all other military excursions that the two countries have been involved in since. It's essentially the Australian and New Zealand version of Memorial Day. Traditional services are held at dawn throughout Australia, and Strahan was no exception. I stopped in at the coffee shop among the 60 or so townspeople who were up early for the service. Soon, the townspeople formed a procession 3-across and walked over to an obelisk in ANZAC Park across the street (while I, and any other tourists, just wandered en masse). There was a nice little service with some prayers being read, a poem by a local high schooler, and some words from the town's mayor - all of which was constantly interrupted by a hoarde of geese, ducks, and seagulls in the park behind us, so it was kind of hard to hear. Then the mayor tried playing a recording of tradtional ANZAC music on a portable CD player, but couldn't get it to play. After about five minutes, the young high schooler who read the poem stepped up to help the elderly mayor. Thinking a young person would have the CD player going in no time, it surprised me when after another five minutes passed and the music hadn't started. It was then I realised how unique my age is: the mayor was maybe too old to be familiar with CD players and the high schooler was so used to iPods and mp3 players that she also didn't know how to work it! They eventually realised that if they put the CD player on solid ground, it would play just fine. The service soon ended and most everyone headed into the local hotel (pub) for breky and a coffee and rum mixture. I settled for coffee (plain) and a sandwich from the cafe next door.
It was a very bleak, grey, and drizzly morning, but I'd booked a ticket on the Gordon River Cruise (highly recommended by tour guides). Strahan is nestled in a little cove off of Macquarie Harbour, Australia's second largest harbour next to Melbourne's Port Phillip Bay, and fed by the Gordon River, which extends up into the vast wilderness of southwest Tasmania. I booked the trip for three reasons. Firstly, not having much time to hike into many of the wilderness areas of Tasmania, I thought this would be a fantastic way to "get into" the wild (yes, even if it is aboard a luxury catamaran). Secondly, it also stopped at the famous Sarah Island - one of Tasmania's most feared convict colonies out on a tiny island in the middle of the harbour - and I wasn't sure if I'd get to learn anything about Tasmania's harsh convict history during the rest of my trip. Thirdly, it included lunch!
The cruise left the docks in Strahan and immediately headed out toward the entrance to the harbour where we passed a few different lighthouses while passing through Hell's Gate. The convicts called the entrance to Macquarie Harbour Hell's Gate because of its isolation and hardships they knew they'd endure on Sarah Island as well as the fact that even though the surrounding area is beautiful, attempted escape almost certainly would lead to death either by British soldiers or the treacherous nature of the environment. Hell's Gate is only a few tens of metres wide and is very shallow, so not too many large vessels can enter the harbour. Also because of the shallow and narrow entrance, it takes ebb tides more time to push their way into the harbour. In fact, the upper few metres of the harbour's water is freshwater supplied from the surrounding rivers and stained brown with tannin because the narrow entrance to the harbour makes it more difficult for the tides to flush out the harbour!
Lighthouse at Hell's Gate, the entrance to Macquarie Harbour, Tasmania
This has an added benefit to the local fishermen. Salmon and trout were introduced to Australia from Great Britain and because they require a certain balance of fresh and salt water, Macquarie Harbour is the perfect place for fish farms, of which there are many.
The boat turned around outside Hell's Gates, not wanting to get battered by the huge ocean waves, wind, and rain and went back into the harbour toward the opposite end where the Gordon River flows into it. As soon as we neared the entrance to the river, the water became much calmer and though it was still rainy and gray the trip became a bit more relaxed. We traveled up the river a few kilometres and learned about the native Huon Pines which grow in the area. Convicts at Sarah Island predominantly built ships out of the Huon Pine because the pine's pitch contained an oil which prevented worms from boring into the wood. Logging of the Huon Pines was so intense that all operations have since been halted and the species protected. Now, only National Park officials can remove Huon pine wood from the forests, and even then, it can only be wood from fallen trees. No Huon pines can be cut down.
Mouth of the Gordon River, flowing into Macquarie Harbour, Tasmania
We got off the boat and had a little walk on a boardwalk through the rainforest, which was very very rainy and allowed us to get up close with the Huon pines and a number of little mud chimneys built by crabs excavating down into it. Back on the boat, though, a buffet lunch was served with some of the freshest salmon you could hope for and local Tassie apples. Delicious!
The rain had stopped momentarily as we approached Sarah Island, home to one of the worst convict settlements in Tasmania, reserved only for those who repeated offense after arriving to Australia. The island is fraught with stories of cruelty, backstabbing, coercion, treachery, and violence I cannot even begin to recount the tales we heard. But the end of Sarah Island came with the installation of a commandant who had previously been a ship builder with no experience of managing convicts. But as soon as he started his post at the island, the violence decreased, the escape attempts stopped, and productivity increased immensely. It turns out that when you give convicts special things they want like alcohol and dignified sleeping quarters, you could get in return a very productive work force. But after news of fair treatment toward the convicts at Sarah Island reached the higher-ups in the British military, the settlement was shut down.
Convict settlement ruins on Sarah Island in Macquarie Harbour, Tasmania
Having spent enough time outside on the boat, I stayed inside the rest of the way back to the wharf. Arriving shortly after 2pm in Strahan, I rushed to get to my car because I knew I had very limited hours of daylight remaining and a very long way to go to get back to Hobart for the night! But as luck would have it, the rain started back up as soon as I got back in my car. Not just a drizzle, but one of the most blinding, white-out deluges I've ever driven through. I put my trust in the little car and its tires and just started heading down the road trying not to slow down through the very rough driving conditions where rain was flowing down the road and around corners. My wipers, though on at the highest setting, couldn't keep up with the rain. I bought petrol in Queenstown and then started my ascent into the mountains.
The change from the day before in the mining area, where all the hills had been stripped of vegetation and soil was unbelievable. Every single crevasse or nook between hills was GUSHING with unbelievably voluminous waterfalls! With nowhere for the rain to seep into, it just collected and rushed downhill!! The rain continued as I got up into the mountains, and though I was making good time, I was surely driving a little too dangerously for the conditions. But finally, a few hours later, as I came closer to Lake St. Clair, the rain let up as the weather was held back on the western side of Tasmania by the highly elevated mountains. While still wet, the rest of the drive was fairly smooth and pleasant and I made it back to the Hobart airport to drop of my rental car only about an hour after the sun went down.
My last post from my trip to New Zealand over New Year's this year picks back up on the same day I visited the Waitangi Treaty Grounds near Paihia. Back in Paihia, however, I was about to embark on one of the coolest experiences of my travels. Traveling alone is not always the most fun, I don't think. As much fun as it is to meet new people and fellow travelers, it often feels like a broken record because you're always telling people the same things: where you're from, what you do, where you've traveled, what you've done on those travels - and then it starts all over. I'd much rather have someone to travel with, either friends or family, to be able to have an ever-continuing travel narrative that carries through the rest of the journeys. With that in mind, I booked myself a room in a YHA. But this was no ordinary YHA because Paihia is the gateway to the Bay of Islands which is no ordinary travel destination!
The Bay of Islands is a fantastic region on North Island, New Zealand and as its name suggests it is a bay - a picturesque beautiful bay - with islands in it - hundred of islands!! I'd been seeing travel posters for New Zealand advertising the Bay of Islands (BoI from now on) and the posters of course make the green islands stand out starkly from the crystal clear turquoise waters of the bay and the cobalt blue skies and little white yachts and tiny yellow kayaks appear to be floating on air. Obviously this photo was used to make it seem like the idyllic place to holiday, but could the BoI really be this perfect? I found out that the answer was and emphatic, "YES!"
The Rock houseboat/hostel I stayed on while touring the Bay of Islands
on New Zealand's North Island
I said the YHA I booked was no ordinary hostel and that is because this YHA is in fact a car-ferry turned houseboat capable of hosting 36 passenters. Rock, The Boat was an ideal way to spend 24 hours on the water - and as the New Zealand Lonely Planet guide says, you can't truly see the BoI unless you're on the bay! The way I justified was this: if I'd booked a hostel, eaten out or even cooked my own food, rented a kayak for a few hours, chartered a fishing guide, and booked a snorkeling outing, I would have spent well over NZ$300! By booking a room on The Rock I could get all of this for a measly NZ$188! Sometimes I think touristy packages like this are overhyped, but I decided to go for it and I was not disappointed in the least bit!
I parked my car at the Paihia YHA (for the land-lubber backpackers) - for free, which they let me do since I'd be spending my money with YHA anyway - and headed down to the dock where I waited in line with a hoard of girls speaking German, a couple of couples, and one chatty South Korean girl from Auckland who was taking the weekend off. No one was really interacting with anyone outside their group, which didn't really bother me; I figured if people weren't social on the boat at least I'd get some relaxation. We were shortly greeted by two guys in their mid-20s who introduced themselves as part of the crew. They put our bags in a boat, gave us some life-jackets and brought us out to a two-level brown houseboat in the harbour. Being an old car-ferry, the boat's back was the former ramp and was kept in the down position as a kind of landing-deck. There was a rack of kayaks on the back and a spiral stairway up to the back deck on the second floor with a New Zealand flag attached. The inside of the boat was amazingly cozy! On the back was a small ring of benches surrounding a wood-burning stove. A large bar occupied the middle of the boat and was where drinks were served and the crew cooked the meals. Bathrooms were small and off to the side and the rest of the main floor was lined by various seats and tables. There was a piano, a foosball table, racks of magazines, and the open rafters were decorated with various antique nautical instruments, tackles, lures, fish, bottles, and so on! The upstairs was where all the rooms were. The four crew members had their rooms up near the front of the boat and the guest rooms took up the rest of the space and were either double rooms, or bunk rooms with six-beds each. The boat could host 36 passengers at once, but luckily there were only 13 of us so it was much more relaxed and much less crowded!
As our captain started bringing us out to the centre of the bay, the crew started the daunting task of making sure everyone knew everyone else and felt part of the family! To get things started they had a wooden duck on a small raft tied to the houseboat with a piece of string. Each of us were then to take turns, introduce ourself, say one unique thing about us, and then take a turn shooting at the duck with a paintball gun! Whichever guy and girl shot the duck first received a free drink from the bar. So it was pretty quickly that we all met each other, started sharing stories, and realised how bad of shots we were with a paintball gun! The crew was amazing at their jobs. I can't imagine the cruise being as fun as it was if the crew had just let us do our own things, but they encouraged us to socialise and though we didn't really get to know each other that much better by the end than we were at the beginning, that first activity broke down those initial barriers and at least got us talking to each other and having a laugh.
The Purerua Peninsula making the northern boundary of the Bay of Islands
The weather was perfect and the water nearly perfectly flat on the bay, just like in the photos! The distant hills were beautifully green and the water sparkling blue. We all socialised a bit on the boat watching other watercraft lazily wander around the bay until we got to our resting spot for the night, a small bay off of one of the mainland peninsulas which twist their way into the BoI. We dropped anchor and were told we would be fishing for our dinner. One of the crew cut up a fish for bait and gave each of us some fishing rods and we all stood off the back, or on the adjoining small boat and tried our luck. I wasn't lucky at all, but one of the guys caught two or three red snappers which we were able to keep and another crew member started to prepare it for dinner. After a few drinks and more chatting while waiting for the rest of dinner to be prepared we had one of the best meals I've had on a boat: steaks, fish, salads, potatoes, and beer. Delicious!
It started to rain a little bit, but the few clouds quickly passed and then the stars came out. There was no moon, so it was especially dark, and I couldn't believe the number of stars I could see! With the sun down and the stars out, our next activity began. We split into two groups and were going to do some nighttime kayaking around the bay which was special because at night, especially on clear nights, you could see bioluminescent algae phosphoresce and light up as you disturbed them by paddling through the water. In the eddies of water spinning around the kayak paddles little specks of light would twinkle and flash and then die out as water returned to a calm normal. If your eyes were keen, you could also see fish swimming around beneath your kayak by the traces of light left behind in its wake as it swam through and stirred up the algae. I was a little nervous I'd see a big fish (or shark) swim under me, but it seemed to mostly be smaller fish. We paddled around a bit and could even just lay back on the flat water looking up at the stars! Off in the distance the lights on the boat were all turned off and a warm glow was coming from the wood burner and a number of candles and Christmas lights. It was a beautiful scene that you can only take my word for because I didn't feel the need to potentially drop my camera or phone in the ocean.
Back on the boat some folks went to bed, but I stayed up and chatted with the Germans and a few others for a while over a few beers, but mostly tea. They were all such a friendly bunch, and I have to give it to the groups of friends and couples on the boat, they all did a great job of branching out and chatting with those of us traveling alone. I can only imagine how awkward it could have been if no one was as friendly or social as they (we) were. But soon we were all off to bed.
Morning sunrise over Electric Bay
It's amazing how well you can find sleep on a boat gently rocking under the influence of little waves. Morning came early though and I was one of maybe five people up before sunrise, which is very unusual for me, but I am so glad I did. The sunrise was just as beautiful as the sunset and the morning air was so calm and quiet it was nice to peacefully be able to take it all in. A few of the other guests who were up early then decided it was time for a morning swim and jumped in and swam around the boat. Now, I should probably explain here that I have an almost crippling fear of being in the ocean. I don't know what it is, really, but I just am afraid to swim in it. I tell people that my brother made me watch Jaws at a very impressionable age and it just stuck with me that if I went in the ocean I would be eaten by a shark. Being on a boat is fine, as is wading or paddling near the shore, but fully submerging myself in the water not near any shore is beyond my limits. Part of being on this trip, though, was going to be testing those limits and I have to admit that the morning swim looked like an ideal way to do it. So before long, and without thinking, I jumped in. The water was cold and it took my breath away, along with the crippling anxiety that came along with the fact that I was in the ocean, not knowing what sort of sea-monsters were swimming beneath my feet! But I was in and did a nice lap around the boat before calling it good and pulling myself out, wrapping myself in a towel, and having my morning coffee. It was exhilirating (yes, even that simple morning swim) and I was ready to take on the rest of the water tasks that lay ahead of us in the day.
After breakfast, the captain started the boat, brought us past Motukaori and Motuarohia Islands and dropped anchor in Mangahawea Bay off Moturua Island. It was time for the next water-based adventure: snorkeling. The crew pointed to where we'd be going and I saw nothing but two large rocks sticking out of the water (Rangiatea and Motuoi Islands) and some shoals of smaller rocks between them. It did not look safe to me and my anxiety crept back in, starkly contrasting with the excitement of everyone around me. Even the Korean girl, who didn't know how to swim, was excited, tightly strapped in to her personal flotation device! It's amazing what a little bit of peer pressure can do, because not wanting to be the only person to no go snorkeling and not wanting to show how scared I was (which was dumb because I told them all how terrified I was!), I didn't have a choice but to grab some flippers, a snorkel, and mask and jump in with the rest. Again the cold water got me, but my adrenaline helped push me through as we all flipped our way over to the rocks. We had two goals here. Firstly, we were there to explore the rocks and snorkel around. But secondly, we were also there to catch kina (sea urchins) for a snack later on. I now fully admit that I had an amazing time snorkeling! It was so cool to just dive around watching all the fish swim around, some in large schools like the blue maomao and some solitary ones like the sandager's wrasse (easily as big as two feet in length!) or the small demoiselle. The blue maomao were really extraordinary because you could just swim into their small schools as they congregated by the rocks. The other swimmers were either exploring or trying their hand at diving down to the rocks and picking up the kina, putting them in a small net the snorkeling crewmember had with us. I had a great time and was determined not to be in the first group of people to head back to the boat, though I also have to admit I never quite got the hang of breathing normally through a snorkel. It's such a weird feeling to breathe through a tube and I kept taking short quick gasps of air which didn't do me much good when I wanted to dive down. But soon the chilly water got to me and hoisted myself onto the small zodiac that took me back to the houseboat.
On top of Waewaetorea Island
With snorkeling done for the day we all dried off and had our packed lunches in the sun as the boat went around some more islands and anchored in the little harbour between Okahu and Waewaetorea Islands. We all hopped back into the kayaks and paddled toward the shore of Waewaetorea Island where some of us took a little walk to the top of the tall grassy hill to get a better view of the BoI, and really, we could not have asked for more perfect weather! It was warm, sunny, and only a few whisps of clouds in the sky! Back down at the beach we played some beach games with a cricket set and rugby ball - cricket I was surprisingly good at, but not the game we played with the rugby ball. But then we were told the afternoon was getting on and we needed to start heading back to Paihia Harbour so they could take the next group of passengers out. So we kayaked back to the houseboat, and before we pulled up anchor for the last time I took one more dive and swim off the back as a personal way of saying to myself, "See? You can do this!"
The cruise back to Paihia was very relaxed. Everyone just chilled out on the sofas and seats throughout the boat chatting and having a beer or two. I joined in as well, but kept being distracted by the beautiful surroundings and landscapes. There was even a large regatta in the Bay that day and a whole string of yachts were sailing around, reminding me of the Boxing Day race that started in Sydney just a few weeks earlier. We even were treated to some of the kina we caught, which were cracked open by one of the crew members. We learned that kina reproduce asexually so have both the eggs and sperm inside their bodies and that the eggs (or was it the sperm?) was considered a delicacy in many restaurants and that you could pay upwards of $50 for a small appetiser of the stuff! I don't think any of us were too keen on trying it, but the Korean girl, who turned out to be quite adventurous, volunteered to go first and we watched as the kina eggs was dabbled on her hand in a sticky yellow goo, and then she quickly stuck out her tongue and licked it clean! It was gross, but sure enough, all of us were trying it before long. Definitely not something I'd pay $50 for by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't all bad - kind of a salty, buttery, goo...
Bay of Islands regatta in front of the Purerua Peninsula
But soon enough, we were anchored back in Paihia Harbour and with an unceremonious farewell to the fellow passengers, we were transported back to the docks and then each of us were on our own ways. It was fitting because the reality was that most of us probably wouldn't see each other again, but since there were no false pretenses (for example everyone saying, "let's keep in touch!") there were no hard feelings. We'd all gotten exactly what we expected: a fun night out on the Bay of Islands with friendly people making personal memories of fun mini-adventures!
Lonely Planet's New Zealand guide says that the Bay of Islands is overhyped, which compared to the rest of New Zealand might be the case (sure, it's no huge volcano, powerful earthquake, or glacial landscape), but if you want water-based activities, it's the bee's knees and I recommend to anyone who wants to get the most for their money, go on The Rock!! If you have the right social disposition, you will not regret it!
