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.
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.
Hi everyone. It's become the time in my PhD where I really cannot afford to provide you with the long posts of the past. I noticed there was a lot of repetition between the blog text and the photo captions and so I am going to try and minimise redundancy by giving a brief overview of where I went, what I did, and how I got there with more detail of what I saw and learned in the Flikr photo captions. I don't really know how many people read this thing through and through, so I hope you can appreciate my changes.
So, back to my trip to New Zealand waaayy back in January...
...I left off at the end of a harrowing day of near-death experiences and kiwi encounters and by the next morning, I felt I was due some rest and relaxation. I drove in to the town of Keri Keri for some breakfast at the little Cafe Zest which had some of the best blueberry muffins I've had in a very long time and then on to Paihia, the entrance to New Zealand's famed Bay of Islands. The Bay of Islands was my main destination, ever since seeing ads for it in my local rail station in Sydney. I'd read that it is useless to visit the Bay of Islands if you don't actually go on the water, so I found myself a YHA hostel on a houseboat called, Rock the Boat, but more on that in the next post. Rock didn't leave until 5pm later that day so I had all morning and afternoon to myself.
Waitangi Flagpole at the site where the Treaty of
Waitangi was signed between the British and
the Maori peoples in 1840.
The town over from Paihia is Waitangi and is famous for being the site where the British colonists and many Maori tribes came together to sign a treaty, giving the Maori recognition of their right to the land, provided the Maori with the status of British citizens, but gave the British Crown control and governance of New Zealand. Not everything was really fully agreed upon and many Maori chiefs refused to sign. Nevertheless, the treaty became a symbol for New Zealand independence, much like the Declaration of Independence in the US. The grounds include the site where the treaty was signed, where the first Governor of New Zealand had his house (a very modest one), a traditional Maori meeting house, and one of the largest canoes (waka in Maori) in the world.
When I drove up I was greeted at the entrance by some young men and women dressed in traditional Maori clothes inviting me in. It made me very skeptical at how kitchy this site was going to be - I though cheesy reenactments and a badly presented tour were in store, especially at the price of $45 to gain entrance to the Treaty Grounds, a tour, and a ticket to a cultural performance. I thought to myself, I'm only here once so I'd better see what it's about, and in the end I could not have been proven more wrong or found a better way to spend $45 in a day!
I had about half an hour to explore the Treaty Grounds on my own but then I made my way over to the Meeting House where we were greeted by the young woman who was out front. She had a very cheery demeanor as she explained the significance of the cultural performance we were about to witness. We were told that we, as visitors, were a tribe and she selected a tribal leader for us. We were then going to be tested as a tribe by the hosting tribe (the performers) to determine whether we came in peace or in war. And then the show started with the hosting tribal leader stepping out in front of us swinging a piece of wood on a string around him, making whooshing noises in the air, snarling with his tongue stuck out and his eyes bulged so you could see as much white of them as was possible. He was shortly joined by two other men in their intimidation dance and a small group of women came out on the veranda and started to chant. Finally, the host tribal chief laid down a leaf (or feather or flower?) on the ground and our chief picked it up. We were seen as friends and welcomed into the Meeting House.
The Maori tribal chief beginning the welcoming ceremony to Whare
Runanga, the Meeting House. Through intimidating dance, snarls,
facial expressions, and weaponry, his goal is to see if we came in peace.
While we were instructed to treat the outside ceremony very seriously, the attitude of the show changed immediately once we were inside. We were introduced through song and dance to traditional Maori customs, stories, weapons, and history for the next 45 minutes. The music was enchanting, the performers amazingly talented, and I was in awe for the entire show, sitting there with a big smile on my face, thinking how much the rest of my family would enjoy this! The Meeting House itself was just as incredible as the performance with wooden tikis carved into panels and geometric murals painted on the walls.
After the show, the performers greeted us outside in the courtyard and those of us who have no shame were allowed to hold some of the Maori weapons for a photo op, giving our try at intimidation... Let's just say I didn't quite play the part as well as the performers!
I then joined up with a tour group and we walked the grounds, led by a colourful storyteller of a tour guide to the different sites, including the large, 117-foot long waka (canoe), traditionally carved in one piece from the felled trunk of a totara tree in a sacred ceremony in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1940. The 3-meter wide stump of the tree used for its construction is housed at the end of the waka's canopy and is just massive! The waka itself was built as a war canoe that could carry 135 people! It actually floats and is taken out onto the bay from time to time for special celebrations.
If you ever find yourself in the Bay of Islands area, do not miss this site!!!! It is well worth the $45 and well worth an afternoon of your time!
I said my goodbyes to my friends Martin and Lydia and left Waiheke Island early the next morning, catching a ferry back to Auckland where I lugged all of my gear about a kilometre through the city and picked up my rinky-dink car from Omega Car Rentals (Folks, their cars are old, cheap, and overpriced. Their customer service is dodgy at best. They were a very unhelpful company to rent from.) and was soon on my way up New Zealand's Highway 1 to Cape Reinga at the very northern tip of the North Island. While Google Maps says it is only a 5 hour drive, they assume there is no one else on the road, no accidents, you don't need to stop for petrol, you're not doing the drive during a holiday, and that the one toll road is operational... It took me almost 5 hours just to get from Auckland to Kaitaia at the turn-off to Cape Reinga.
That's not to say the drive wasn't pretty. In fact on Highway 1 you end up driving away from the coast for a little while but then you come up and over a large hill and are met with this expansive view of the Whangarei Heads ("wh" in New Zealand is pronounced "f") which are these staggering, precipitous cliffs jutting up out of the ocean, and it's then you realise that while you've been driving through "hilly" country, it is nothing compared to some of New Zealand's topography! Another beautiful and fun part of the drive was going through Mangamuka Gorge near Raetea Forest. Here, the road just goes up and up and up and up and up and up and up these tight winding, curving bends in the two-lane road where, at times, the road was tipped to the side on a 20°-angle, it seemed! I was a bit nervous because I was running low on petrol and worried that I wouldn't make it to the top of the road before running out. I just needed to make it to the top so I could put the poor little car in neutral and coast down the other side of the mountain! (I eventually made it).
I stopped in Kaitaia for some groceries and food since there are no stores or petrol stations out on the Cape itself. And then I started my drive out to the tip of the island. There is only one road to use and the drive is 110 km away from all civilisation. While you can't see it from the road, off to the left is Ninety Mile Beach (it's not 90 miles long!) which many visitors to NZ either hike or take their 4-wheel-drive utes on day trips, being careful to watch the tides so their cars don't end up being fed to the ocean. But honestly, for most of that drive there is little scenery to see until you get to the last 30-40km where the road really utilises the hilly terrain and give you amazing views of this thin peninsula with the Tasman Sea to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east.
I wasn't too interested in the scenery here, though; I was more worried about securing a tent camping space at the Tapotupotu Bay campgrounds, run by the NZ Dept. of Conservation. The campsite doesn't take reservations, and I was worried that during peak holiday season, the whole campsite would be full, so I was mostly in a hurry to get to the campground and secure a spot for my tent. Eventually the road starts another large ascent up these rocky mountains and off to the left I could the the wide expansive sand dunes of Maria van Diemen Land (NZ's westernmost point), which would also be my target for tomorrow. Finally, I saw the turnoff for Tapotupotu Bay and took it, going a few kilometres down the dusty dirt road. Luckily, it was well-used and not too steep so my junky Nissan Sunny had no problem getting down the switchbacks to a tiny little sandy cove stuck between two rocky headlands: Tapotupotu Bay!
Coastal beaches stuck between headlands like this often have a high beach berm (2-3m) behind which is a flat lagoon with sandy banks, and it was all this high land that the campsite occupied. There were specific sites for RVs and one large grassy strip along the beach's edge where you can just pitch your tent where there's room, of which there was plenty and I had no problem finding a nice grassy area far from other tents. I paid the campsite attendant and set up my tent, but then I got back into my car and drove back out to the main road and turned right to drive the last few kilometres out to the lighthouse at Cape Reinga.
Maria Van Diemen Land (the westernmost point
of New Zealand) as seen from Cape Reinga
Cape Reinga is a spiritual place in Maori culture. It is believed that all Maori people originated from a place called Hawaiki somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and Kupe, the earliest Maori explorer from Hawaiki, believed Te Rerenga Wairua (Cape Reinga) to be the place where spirits would return to Hawaiki after death. Because of the spiritual nature of the site, tourists are strongly requested to not eat or drink anything past the parking lot - which, unfortunately, many less well-behaved tourists and respectful tourists neglect to notice. There is a nicely paved walkway that loops around from the parking lot down a hill and out to the lighthouse. In 1928, the organiser of the Ratana faith - a Christian group of Maori people - prophesied that "a great light would one day shine out on the world" from Cape Reinga and according to the displays around the area, some believe that the building of the Cape Reinga Light fulfills that prophecy. Below the light station is another little rocky point, Te Reinga, juts out into the merging waters of the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean on the side of which grows a solitary kahika tree called, Te Aroha and it is here that departed spirits descent to the ocean waters on the roots of the tree and begin their return journey to Hawaiki.
I cannot imagine what it would be like to visit Cape Reinga when the parking lot is full of tour buses because it is such a spiritual place, I imagine the vast number of people crowding the point would ruin its serenity. Fortunately, the night I visited, there were only a handful of tourists. It was so peaceful and quiet, the only sounds being those of the waves crashing on the rocky coast below, a few sea birds, and the wind blowing through the grassy hillsides. The air was warm and comfortable and you could see the turquoise waters of the Pacific merging with the darker waters of the Tasman off the coast where a thin band of mixing water left a visible stripe a good distance off shore. To the west, clear views out to the long beach leading to Maria van Diemen's Land and the rocky hills marking the western most point of NZ. Off the point of Maria van Diemen's Land are a few more grass-covered islands, and a good distance from land to the north is another little archipelago called, Manawa Tawhi - or Panting Breath. A Maori chief once swam to those islands from the main land, naming them for his physical state upon arriving. While no one lives out there now, Maori people lived there until about 200 years ago! What an existence that must have been!
Cape Reinga Lighthouse and Te Reinga below. The dark line near the horizon is the mixing line between the waters of the Tasman Sea to the west (left) and the Pacific Ocean to the east (right)
The sun was dipping toward the horizon and I thought I'd wait for it to set, but I soon realised it had a ways to go yet, so I headed back to the campsite to make a little dinner and explore the beach there. I'd met a guy from Auckland at the Lighthouse who, like me, was just taking a week-long break, exploring and taking photos, and we met again on the beach, taking photos and chatting, watching the sky turn a brilliant pink colour as the sun finally set behind the rocky promontory on the west side of the beach. But it was soon time to turn in for the night. I'd decided that the next morning I was going to hike out to Maria van Diemen's Land - a 15km return-trip hike.
After spending a few hours on Rangitoto Island with my friends Martin and Lydia, we ferried back to the Auckland wharf, grabbed my bags from storage, and caught the last ferry of the day out to Waiheke (why-HEK-ee) Island where Martin's family stays. Waiheke is a 45-minute ferry ride out from Auckland and it is a wine-lover's paradise with dozens of vineyards strewn across the island. (I am not a wine connoisseur, so I don't really know what types of wine grow best in Auckland Harbour) The island is surrounded by sparkling water, private coves and inlets, and because of the loose sedimentary rock underneath, the hills are very steep and I don't think there was a straight road on the island! Quite a few people live on the island in a number of little communities connected to the wharf by the main road, but even more private drives twist and turn their way through sheep and cow pastures, over steep ascents, and between white sandy beaches. It reminded me a lot of Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard, or Nantucket due to it's seclusion, it's high-end residents, it's scenic water views, and the awful traffic (though nothing really outdoes Cape Cod traffic on a Friday summer afternoon!).
Martin's whole family was celebrating the holidays at his parent's place and they couldn't have been more welcoming to me, refusing to let me do anything but relax, eat, and help myself to wine or beer no matter how much I insisted I could help out! The house was situated way back away from any main road and up on a hill with a beautiful view of the little cove below, the New Zealand mainland across the water, and the sun setting down behind the adjacent hillside, all surrounded by native forests! It was spectacular! After I set up my tent in the back yard, Lydia, Martin, and I walked down to the water's edge and strolled along the pebbly perimeter of the estuary. It was high tide then, but during low tide the water retreats and reveals an expansive shelf of sticky, mucky, salt marsh. Little crabs darted around the rocks, and rock oysters were fastened to almost every little bit of rock covered by water at high tide.
Sunset over Awaararoa Bay (don't ask me how to pronounce that!) on Waiheke Island
To be honest, not much happened those next few days. We did go to Onetangi Beach the morning after I arrived and spent a few hours there. Being as terrified of swimming in the ocean as I am, I was determined on this trip to start getting over that fear! I'm a fine swimmer, but I just am hesitant when it comes to the ocean. Well, I enjoyed the warm waters of Onetangi Beach, but the wind was a bit much so we decided to call it quits and headed over to Wild on Waiheke, a beautiful vineyard/brewery with delicious pizzas and beer, cider, and wine (had to try a bit of each!) and there were all sorts of games for Martin and Lydia's little nieces and nephews to play, but it looked too fun so we eventually joined in the extra-large chess set and bocci ball - but there were also more grown-up activities like volleyball, laser-skeet shooting, and archery! Soon, though, the rest of the family headed back to the house while Martin, Lydia, and I drove up to the Peacock Sky Vineyard, which the rest of the family had raved about earlier, for a little bit of a wine tasting. It was good wine, and the food they paired it all with was delicious, but again, I just don't know my wines well enough to be able to say, "The acidity of the Cab Sav really brought out the flavour of the garlic chicken skewer." (I don't even know if cab savs have acidity or if they pair well with chicken. Probably not. Oh well. I do know that Cab Sav is a wine, though, so there's a plus!
Rows of grapes on Waiheke Island
On the way back down the road to the house we saw a few pukekos which are these birds with brilliant navy blue plumage and a bright red beak perched up on top of spindly legs. There were just two of them rummaging around a fence post, but I didn't have my camera handy enough to get a photo of them before they darted off. People always say that New Zealand is the place to go if you want the Down Under experience where no animals will kill you (unlike Australia) and this is true. What took me by surprise were the number of amazing birds here! Not only did we see the pukekos, but at night you could hear moreporks calling to each other across the bay (here's a YouTube video which doesn't show much, but you can at hear their distinct, "More-pork!" calls), and during the day we would frequently see tuis (TOO-ees) flitting through the trees with their black bodies and white bobble-feathers at their necks. Also, just down along the bay below the house is a protected nesting ground for the shore dottrels and we frequently saw them flying around.
I think it was New Year's Eve by this point and after a great barbecue dinner and the little kids soon went to bed. Us adults then sat around drinking and playing a card game called, "asshole" which was really fun and I'll probably introduce it to my family at some point - but I forgot how to play... That was a nightly occurrence, but after playing this night, we walked up the very steep driveway to the top of the hill to see if we could get a good show from the Auckland New Year's Fireworks. Well, we saw the fireworks, but they were extremely uninspired and dull. There were maybe two or three big sprays of pyrotechnics from the top of the Sky Tower, but then the show was over and we had to manage our way back down the driveway.
The next morning was the first day of the new year and Martin and his brother impressed us all with homemade eggs benedict and it wasn't long before everyone packed up into the cars for a mini day-trip out to the northeast point on the island to the Stoney Batter Historic Reserve - a WWII gun battery that was part of a network of stations around the perimeter of the Hauraki Gulf. Built by the Kiwis and funded by the US Military, this network of battlements were set up to protect Hauraki Gulf and Auckland Harbour from any incoming threat from the enemy. The US got involved because the US Navy's ships used the protection of Auckland Harbour during the war. Stoney Batter's guns could fire far beyond the line of sight so the various radio stations would report the location of an enemy ship to the radio control centre on top of Rangitoto Island who then would call to Stoney Batter and let them know which way to point their weapons. While the threat of enemy invasion was real (3 Japanese subs did sneak past Sydney Harbour's defenses and sank a British battleship), the enemies never came and the battery never saw real action. The entire complex is pretty astonishing though - the three gun batteries are all connected by over a kilometre of underground tunnels which you can tour with the aid of a very bright torch, provided by the very knowledgeable woman who was attending the station, though she was a bit gruff and insisted on giving a little lamb a bottle of formula before taking our money. There is also a little "museum" there which is nothing more than a storage room full of photos, maps, and bits and bobs from the machinery that used to be in the tunnel systems. It appears as though the tunnels and bunkers are being renovated, but we couldn't be sure. It was nice to get out of the heat though and into the dark, dank, echoey tunnels! It's definitely something to check out if you're ever there. Once we got out of the tunnels and back into sunlight we walked up the hills in the sheep paddocks to the outside of the batteries and the views of the Gulf were so clear we could easily see Great and Little Barrier Islands way off in the distance!
Exploring the depths of Stoney Batter Historical Site
On the way back to the house, the whole family regrouped at Man o' War Vineyards for some tasty cheeses, olives, meats, and some wine, of course! What a fun time we had just sitting around talking, joking, watching the little kids play cricket, and eating! But the day was hot and everyone was exhausted so back home we went and while everyone else decided to do a little napping, I nipped down to the bay and took a stroll to the dottrel preserve and around the bend to a wide beach used as the launching site for rock oyster farmers whose farms were just out in the little bay. I was leaving the next morning so I also got my things together to make a quick pack-up in the morning and the rest of the evening was just relaxed on the porch looking out over the water while the sun set over the hills.
The Great Ocean Road starts in Torquay, about an hour and a half south from Melbourne. Knowing that from this point on, there would be only a few towns with grocery stores, Caitlyn and I stocked up on food for the road. I'd driven to Torquay but Caitlyn hadn't driven in the two years she'd been in Australia, so I let her take the wheel from here on out, which was fine, because being a geologist I like to look at the rocks and coastlines and landscapes which is kind of a hazard while behind the wheel!
It didn't take long for us to get out of Torquay and through the small coastal town of Anglesea before we got a taste of what the next 200 kilometres would be like as the road stretched right along the tops of staggering cliffs, windswept beaches, and some of the most colourful water I've ever seen. Not only was it bluer than blue, but parts were emerald, turquoise, green, and gray and since the coast borders the Southern Ocean, where some of the world's largest waves are created, portions of the coastline were bleached white with seafoam and breaking waves.
Down the road from Anglesea is the town of Airey's Inlet with a magnificently white and red lighthouse you could see from a good distance away. It was late morning and we decided it would be a good place to stop for lunch. This part of the coast was inundated with lava and ash 29 million years ago from a volcano whose caldera was right at this point. Global sea-level rose around 24 million years ago and the basaltic rocks got covered with thick layers of sandy limestones. Now, at the base of the cliffs here the basalt rocks are more eroded from wave action than the limestone above it which forms the rocky cliffs and headlands along the Great Ocean Road.
We spent the next hour driving along these cliffs and beaches, but also into the backs of coves where small rivers flowed into the ocean and up the hills skirting the dense coastal forests. In the little town of Lorne - which seemed to be a sort of more posh holiday town - we turned inland up Erskine Falls Road, not necessarily to see the falls, but because of the wildlife. See, I did a little bit of research before hitting the road because one of the things I wanted to check of my list was seeing koalas out in the wild, and lucky for us, some of the best koala-spotting territory is in the coastal forests of the Great Ocean Road. One of the tips was to drive up Erskine Falls Road and we were sure to see the little furry critters in the trees. Well, we didn't see any koalas, nor did we really get a good feel for Erskine Falls because the path down to the falls was under construction... At least it was a pretty little detour.
Back on the road, we passed through the town of Wye River (another spot the guidebooks said we'd be sure to see koalas) and shortly thereafter, we did stop in Kennett River to find some toilets, which were in an RV/camping holiday park across the road from the ocean. I stopped in to the park's office to see if they could give us some tips on where and how to spot wild koalas. We were in luck! Just that morning the office clerk had seen a few in a tree in one of their camping lots and we were free to have a look around. So after emptying our bladders, we strolled through the caravan park with cameras in hand. We knew what koalas looked like from photos, but had no real idea what to be looking for or in what type of eucalyptus tree they'd be in. But then, just as plain as day, we looked up into a tree and saw three or four koalas lounging around in the higher branches of the tree!
Koala snoozing in Kennett River
It was awesome! These little gray puffs of fur just lazily walk from one branch to the other, stretching their arms out to reach for a clump of leaves and then pull it toward them with surprising dexterity! And then they eat or sleep, or both at the same time it seemed! Koalas are pretty simple animals, but they were fascinating to watch and with our cameras, we circled the tree looking for the best angle to take a photo. It was odd because we'd been looking for these guys for a while not knowing what to look for, but once we found them it was if we couldn't stop finding them! On our way back to the car we saw some other road-trippers by a tree where another koala was perched right in the crook of some branches just out of arm's reach and this time there were no twigs blocking it from view and he just sat there looking from side to side, just begging to have his photo taken! I've never really had such an incredible wildlife experience before with such a rare animal that even many Australians have not seen in the wild. But it would only get better from here.
Back in the car, we drove a little ways up the Grey River Road right from Kennett River and stopped just a few hundred metres up the road because again there was a koala just chilling out on a eucalyptus branch right at eye-height, and this guy was hungry! Without really paying much attention to us, he kept eating and eating in perfect photographic poise! Caitlyn and I had him to ourselves for a good few minutes before a crowd of people walked up from down the road. Satisfied with our amazing encounter, we hopped back in the car and drove on.
The afternoon was drawing on and shortly we arrived in the small town of Apollo Bay where we stayed at the spacious, clean, and quiet Apollo Bay Eco YHA. YHAs are oftentimes notorious for having run-down accommodation for cheap (I'm looking at you YHA Auckland City Road...), but this was completely different. Everything about it was designed to be sustainable - from the no flush toilets (they flush if you really need them to), to big plate-glass windows that let in heaps of natural light, to the herb garden. And for $50/night for a room with two beds, it was perfect! We checked in but then got back in the car because we wanted to go check out the Cape Otway Light Station at the Australian mainland's second southern-most point.
The road to the lighthouse is a 20 minute turnoff from the Great Ocean Road and winds through Great Otway National Park without any other cars on the road. It was along this road that we came upon not just one or three koalas in a little tree, but an entire colony of koalas. It would be impossible to miss seeing them as there were dozens of them hanging out in a handful of trees with wide branches stretching across the road and back into the forests behind them. We stopped the car and stepped out taking quality photo after quality photo. And these ones weren't just eating (some were) but others were actively calling to each other in these terrible-sounding grunts, groans, and screams. It was soo bizarre! I tried catching some of it on film, but it didn't turn out great. Caitlyn and I sat there looking into the trees, bewildered, and amazed at what we were seeing! You couldn't ever see anything like this in a zoo, and the best part was it was totally free and we had these dozens of koalas totally to ourselves!
If it weren't for seeing these koalas here, our little afternoon detour would have been a bust because the lighthouse was closed for the day, anyway, so back to Apollo Bay it was. Caitlyn took a quick shower and I walked down to the harbour to take some photos at sunset and we met at a little Chinese restaurant where I was introduced to handcrafted beers from the local Prickly Moses microbrewery. The beer was delicious (I had the Summer Ale, Otway Ale, Red Ale, and Otway Stout throughout the course of the night) and I particularly liked, Moses, the echidna on the logo.
The next day was a big day. We had some impressive sights to see and yet we had to be back at the Melbourne Airport by 7pm to catch our flight home. That morning, we couldn't resist trying to blueberry pancakes at the Bay Leaf Cafe right on the main road in Apollo Bay, and we were not disappointed with the homemade stack of pancakes, bacon, and maple syrup. It was a brekkie to die for and I think I can say it was my only culinary winning-pick of our trip since Caitlyn was the one who found all of our delicious meals in Melbourne!
We got back on the road, stopping only a few times to check out a lookout over secluded beaches, but we had a new destination in mind that we wanted to be sure to save enough time for: The Twelve Apostles!
Possibly the crowning glory of the Great Ocean Road, The Twelve Apostles are a series of seastacks, or pillars of rock separated by the rest of the rocky coastline by erosion and wave action eating away at their bases. And the stretch of coast between Princetown and Port Campbell, is home to Port Campbell National Park and one of the most recognizable natural features of Australia. We parked the car at the Gippsland Steps and followed the path down to the beach where, save for a handful of other tourists taking photos, was relatively empty. Empty and beautiful! It was a sunny day with a bright blue sky and we meandered down the shoreline gawking up at the massive seastack in front of us! And surprise! It wasn't until we actually got closer to the seastack that we realised it was blocking another enormous pillar of rock behind it! As beautiful as this site was, we were in luck because these weren't even part of The Twelve Apostles!
Just down the road from the Gippsland Steps is the Twelve Apostles Visitor Center (which is nothing more than toilets and a cafe) but we walked along the path, under the road, out to lookout points right at the edge of the tops of the cliffs. It was from this point, looking north up the coast, that the classic photographs of the mammoth blocks of stone are taken. Originally, the area was known as the sow and piglets, but it was soon renamed The Twelve Apostles because locals figured that would entice more tourists - and they were right. But don't be fooled by the name: there are more (or less) than 12 seastacks depending on who you talk to or what you consider to be the difference between a seastack and an eroded pile of rock. Nevertheless, this is an awe-inspiring vista that is worth spending some time at! I was hoping we could find a way down to the beach, but there did not appear to be any paths or trails, so after an hour or so, we hopped in the car and continued on to Loch Ard Gorge.
The Loch Ard Gorge gets its name from one of the most storied shipwrecks along this reach of the coast - arguably one of the most dangerous waterways in the world. The Loch Ard was carrying 54 people on board at the end of a three-month voyage to Melbourne from England. On 31 May 1878 mists shrouded the coastline here and once they lifted the Loch Ard found itself in a precarious situation right next to the massive cliffs and while Captain Gibb tried steering the ship away from the cliffs, strong winds and currents carried the ship into a reef and oncoming waves slammed up against the sides of the ship and swells eventually caused the ship to sink. Only two of the 54 people on board survived, an Irish immigrant and the ship's apprentice, both of whom were carried into Loch Ard Gorge (a protected inlet from the treacherous coast). It was hard to imagine such trauma happening in such a beautiful place, but easy to see how an unforgiving ocean, strong winds, and rocky coastline create the perfect recipe for disaster! Caitlyn and I walked along the cliff tops and down into Loch Ard Gorge for a quick gander at the beach but were soon on our way.
The rest of the day involved driving the short distance to Port Campbell where we had a very average fish 'n' chips lunch and beer before heading inland toward Melbourne Airport to catch our flight back to Sydney that evening.
I am always amazed at how much you can pack into such a short vacation if you're willing to put the energy into doing it! I mean, over the course of four days we saw a historic jail, ate at tons of amazing restaurants, visited museums, drove 200 kilometres over some of the most rugged and beautiful coastal scenery in Australia, and saw wild koalas up-close. Four days! It's why I love traveling. There is so much to see in the world with so little time to see it all, but you sure can come close!
