"This time tomorrow, where will we be..."

Wednesday 23rd March 2011

I'm pretty sick of travelling. I don't mean the concept, just the literal act of travelling. Sick of planes. Sick of coaches. Sick of cars. But one method of transport that I have greatly underused is the train. I had planned to travel some of the US west coast by train, but that didn't materialise. I had planned to travel the Tranz Alpine in New Zealand, but the earthquake prevented that. And I'm sure had I gone to Japan, I would have travelled a Bullet Train at some point. So this morning I decided to relax upon the Puffing Billy, a restored steam train line that travels through the Dandenong Ranges. Getting the 11:10 train, it was like stepping back in time. As I walked along the platform the engine was preparing to go, steam billowing from its funnel, so I got into one of the very old style carriages with it's open plan seating and open windows. I assume they're called windows, though there was no glass, just a piece of tarpaulin to pull down if it rained or got windy. At 11:10 the train pulled away with a chug, chug, chug and a huge release of steam and a deafening whistle. It was bliss. We ventured off through the Dandenong Ranges, passing houses set back in the forest, crossing wooden bridges and stopping at a couple of little stations along the way. I had a ticket to the end of the line, Genbrook, which would take 2 hours, and then there was a 2 hour stop there before returning home. It was turning into a perfect day, the sun was out, the wind rushing at my face as I sat on the edge of the carriage with my feet dangling out. We arrived at Genbrook where I walked to local Bushland Forest where I had my lunch and walked amongst the undergrowth and huge trees. Before getting the 2:45 train back I stopped for a coffee and cheesecake and then boarded the train back. We stopped at Lakeside, where I got off to wait the hour for the final train back, found a great little amphitheatre just a few metres from the lake, and sat to read my book. At 4:15 I got the final train of the day, stuck on my Ipod and the soundtrack to The Darjeeling Limited, took off my shoes and socks, and just sat on the edge of the carriage until we returned to Belgrave an hour later. Well and truly one of the most satisfying days of my journey so far. In a day and age when everything is so rushed, everyone must get from A to B in the quickest time possible, it was great to just let Puffing Billy take his time as we passed through the Dandenong Ranges and watched the world go by. And as the Kinks come on my Ipod, I sat there listening to their words; "This time tomorrow, where will I be, on a spaceship somewhere, sailing across an empty sea"...

127 Minutes...

Tuesday 22nd March 2011

For those who have seen 127 Hours (or perhaps read the book Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I haven't, yet) you will understand the spring in my step when I left this morning to venture off into the Dandenong Ranges National Park. Granted, I wasn't venturing very far from civilisation, wasn't likely to encounter falling rocks, and someone did know where I was going, but you (possibly) get the point. After my relatively relaxing week in Perth meeting old friends and new relatives (I'll explain that in another blog), I felt ready to wander/wonder again. So I packed my bag with some water, some fruit, some nuts and some bird seed (I was heading towards Grants Picnic Ground where I had been told you could hand feed parrots), and off I went, headphones in, Ipod on and camera in hand. The rain was coming down, but it was thin and only really a drizzle, and the temperature was a lot more bearable than Perth (though still very warm and slightly humid). About 40 minutes in I came to Grants Picnic Ground where there were just dozens of parrots waiting to be fed. A little unsure as to what would happen, I placed a load of bird seed in my left hand and knelt down towards the ground. Immediately one big white parrot (a cockatoo I believe) came over and started eating out of my hand. I then tried to ready my camera in my left hand, which meant I inadvertently moved my right hand away from the parrot. So he bit my hand. I screamed, like a girl. It hurt. I took a few minutes to compose myself, but pretty quickly got back into it, this time no kneeling down, but standing so the bird would fly onto my arm and eat out of my hand. At one point another different type of parrot just randomly flew onto my shoulder, even though I had no food in my hand. I just managed to snap a photo before he flew away again. Eventually I decided to venture off further into the bush on a designated trek that was about 2 hours long. Checking the time (it was 14:58) I set off, and despite the quite atrocious signage I somehow managed to not get completely lost, and even managed to spot four lyrebirds (apparently rare to spot so I was pretty lucky) and a wallaby. The walk was stunning, with the rain causing a very atmospheric mist, and the constant sound of birds and parrots was awesome. It was pretty hot and sticky by now, and at various points I didn't really know where I was going because the signage was so bad (well, bad equals non-existent, even when paths forked off), but following my nose, and using a bit of common sense knowing which directions I should be going, I eventually ended up back at Grants Picnic Ground. And do you know what time I got back to Grants Picnic Grounds? 17:05. You work out how many minutes later that was. I followed the trail back towards Belgrave and stopped in at the Micawber Tavern for a well earned pint, before heading back to where I am staying (via a fish 'n' chip shop). Tomorrow, I'm gonna let Puffing Billy do all the work...

setting sun...

Perth, WA:

a fight to the end...

So I find my self in a strange psychological black hole right now. On my two shoulders are two competing thoughts, theories and mindsets. In the blue corner, I have a tired and jaded mind, one that is ready to come home and enjoy the wonder that is my home town, London, and see my family and friends for the first time in 6 months, and sleep in a familiar bed. However, in the red corner, is the travelling mind, the one that has absolutely loved every minute of the past 5 months, one that has continually met new people, new places, stood in awe at the many sights of the amazing countries I've been through. The red corner is throwing punches that say "I never want this to end". An upper cut that describes the many people and places I am yet to see, that I will probably never see, that I could go and see. The blue corner retaliates with an image of a quaint little pub in London's Soho, a fresh pint on a summers evening with some of my closest friends, of seeing my parents and brother and other family based in London, or walking along the south bank and watching the Thames go by. The red corner ducks and dives, remembering the sights of America, New Zealand, Fiji and currently Australia. The blue corner defends, showing visions of cycling through Kilburn on the way to the West End, or a train journey to Manchester to see old friends. Yet this is no boxing fight, because the blue corner and red corner are friends. In under a month the blue corner will walk away apparently victorious, as I return to London to fall back in love with the town I was born in. And yet, it will simply give the red corner a chance to think, to rest itself, and find a new plan. A new angle to attack. A new punch to throw. A new adventure to find. And the blue corner won't fight back. He'll just gladly step to one side and let the red through...

doctor doctor...

If the truth be told, I am absolutely exhausted. There are a number of contributing factors, mainly the 5 months of constant travel finally taking its toll on me, plus a long journey from Fiji to the west coast of Australia. My week in Fiji was wonderful, not just for the sun, sea and, er, sand, but for the cultural experience of life on an island. The earthquake in New Zealand didn't logistically affect me, and as shocked and saddened as I was by the events, I was still able to get on with my travels. In Fiji, however, the news of the earthquake in Japan had much more of a direct impact on me, firstly because a Tsunami warning was issued whilst I was there, and secondly because Japan was part of my itinerary before returning home to London. As already mentioned, my final night in Fiji was somewhat frightening as I didn't really know what was happening, other than a tsunami warning was in place, some people had been told to go to higher ground, and I was in a village right by the ocean but we weren't going to higher ground. In the end nothing happened, but I got at most an hour and a half's sleep before beginning my 16 hour journey to Perth. I also arrived in Perth suffering from a blocked ear, which had happened whilst swimming in Fiji. Similar to what I experienced 2 years ago, swimming had caused my ear to block up and I was effectively deaf in one ear, and once in Perth knew I would have to deal with it. So on Monday I went into downtown Perth, visited the Visitor Centre, and they told me to go to the Medical Centre. Within an hour I had an appointment with a doctor, and he syringed my ears bringing my hearing back up to scratch. All for $85.

Now I'm struggling with the heat. I really wasn't expecting to struggle with it as bad as I have, but the past 2 days have been around 30° plus, and I haven't coped very well. Luckily by mid-afternoon, with any luck, the sea breeze comes in from the West and cools everything down a bit. This breeze is known as the Freemantle Doctor as it tends to come in from Freemantle, a town on the coast just a few miles from Perth. The second doctor in two days to bring great relief. I've also been concerned about my trip to Japan, and how I should deal with. I gave it a couple of days to take in the continuously developing news and decide, and today I finally decided it would be for the best if I skip the Japan leg of my journey. Although Tokyo (and to the West) has been mostly unaffected, I've decided that just a few weeks after the disaster is a little too soon. Partly because of the possible aftershocks, partly because of the current nuclear power predicament, but mostly because I just feel it would be inappropriate to be there as a tourist whilst the entire country is having to pull together amidst possible power cuts and extreme stresses on the countries resources in general. I am aware of the argument that the Japanese economy needs people like me to still go and spend money, and in a month or two I would probably agree. But just a few weeks I feel is too soon. I will definitely one day make it to Japan as they will no doubt recover from this terrible tragedy. So I have now rearranged my flight to go through Bangkok, where I will spend a few nights before returning home to London. And the rest of my life. Whatever that may hold...

Bula Bula Fiji time...

So here I am, sat in Sydney airport, waiting for my connecting flight to take me to Perth, and complete quite a week. I arrived in Fiji last Sunday and immediately went to the small village of Viseisei where I was due to stay with a couchsurfing family for a couple of nights in their village. The first evening it absolutely poured down with rain but we sat inside drinking Kava (a traditional Fijian drink made from the roots of, er, some plant!), and there were also two German couchsurfers there. When I found out they were staying for the same number of days as me, and Fi (the couchsurf host) had helped book them on a little trip to the islands, I decided to join them. So off we went next morning, and spent the following 2 nights on the island of Kuata, and then another 2 nights after that on the island of Nanuya Lailai. Not much really needs to be said other than in Fiji there are no clocks or watches, just Fiji time. What time is it? It's Fiji time. I spent 4 days sleeping, eating, reading, sitting in a hammock, doing a bit of snorkelling, riding boats, swam in a cave, and generally saw more sunshine (and also quite a bit if rain!) than I've probably seen before. Today I am a mixture or red and nicely tanned. Last night we returned to Viseisei to the news of the huge earthquake in Japan, and subsequently the Tsunami warning that went out across the whole of the Pacific. I was pretty freaked out by it, and whilst the locals seemed unworried (as Fiji has never suffered from a Tsunami before, despite one or two warnings every year) I was still unable to sleep all night as the 3am predicted tsunami approached. By 4:30am no waves had swept me away, and I managed a small amount of sleep before I got ready at 6am to leave for the airport and my long day ahead travelling to Sydney and then Perth. Here I am, halfway there, only another hour and then I can board my plane to Perth. What time is it? It's always Fiji time...

so close and yet so far...

Driving from Dunedin to Lake Takepo the other day, I knew I would go through it. But I must have missed it as I arrived in Tekapo without seeing it. Leaving Lake Tekapo this morning I knew I would be driving back the way I came to Fairlie, and although heading north from there, it would only be a 10 minute drive out of the way to go find it again. I had double checked on google before I left, so I knew it was there. Once through Fairlie I kept my eyes peeled, and sure enough, 10 minutes later, there it was on the right. I indicated and turned in, pulled up and grabbed my camera. I got a photo of the road sign, and of the little sign on the creek bridge.

I continued on driving up Cricklewood Road (it was a dirt track) for 3 or 4 miles, but there were just a couple of farms and nothing more, so I returned, a little disappointed there were no buildings or anything else with the name on it. As I got back to the corner to return towards Fairlie I realised there was actually a house on the corner of the road, so I pulled up again to take a little look. And there it was. The piece de resistance. Staring me in the face. I had no choice, I had to see if anyone was home. I made my round the corner to the front of the house, and the front door was wide open. I knocked and shouted hello. No answer. But I could hear voices. So I walked down the side path to see if I could find anyone out the back, it didn't lead me to anywhere, but I could still hear the voices. So I returned to the open front door and rang the doorbell. Marilyn came to the door and I explained the situation. She immediately invited me in, and introduced me to her husband and her sister (who actually lived in Christchurch but had been forced away by the earthquake and damage to her home). We chatted for a long while, I explained my journey, and they the history of the area as far as they knew it. Originally, some time back in the late 1800's, the area around them had been set to become the township of Cricklewood. Indeed they have seen the original paper plans of where the Church would go, where the houses would go, where the shops would go, where the school would go etc etc. The school was built, but for whatever reason the township never really materialised, and the school was eventually closed. The house they now live in is situated where the school used to be, and they have lived there since the mid 1980's. The sign in fact belonged to the school, but they had managed to get hold of it from some officials somewhere, and relocated it in their garden. After a while chatting, we went out to take the photo, and I promised when I return home I will send them a photo of me by a Cricklewood sign in London.

This all came at the end of a day in which I had been on a horse trek through the wonderful scenery around Lake Tekapo and driven down to Twizel to take in the spectacular views of Mt Cook. All in a days work...