AUSTRALIA.
SYDNEY, NSW. 13/11 - 16/11
The long flight from Beijing to Sydney via Singapore was never going to be a lot of fun, and I won't dwell on it here except to say that Fran did not strike up a lasting friendship with the sweaty, 6' 6'' tall, 4' wide, belching Canadian she was wedged next to.
Our plan for Australia was to stay flexible and to find accommodation on the day where ever we happened to turn up. This laid back, free and easy approach has much to recommend it, but when you know you are going to arrive in Sydney at 0900 after a very long overnight flight I still think it might have been a good idea to have booked somewhere to stay in advance. After I had made a few calls on my mobile, and been quoted ridiculously high rates, I made it clear to Fran we had made a mistake and that I had told her we should have made a reservation in advance. As always she kept irritatingly calm and suggested we talk to the lady at the Tourist Information desk behind me. Within 2 minutes the nice lady had made a reservation for us in a very comfortable downtown hotel at a very reasonable rate.
After the 5* existence in Beijing we had decided Australia was going to be much more down to earth and, although we were not going to rough it, we were not going to be extravagant. We made a very satisfying start to this by declining the offer of a taxi to our hotel and by travelling instead in a minibus full of backpackers at a fraction of the cost. To take my mind off the sweaty Indonesian chap beside me who was talking to himself and appeared to be suffering from periodic panick attacks, I decided to see if the GPS map function on my iPhone worked in Australia. Indeed it did and it gave me great pleasure to follow our route as we progressed towards the centre of Sydney, until I received a text from Vodafone warning me that I had just exceeded £15 worth of downloaded data since my arrival in Australia. I have left the data roaming function switched off since, but when Fran reads this and realises we actually spent more on that journey than the cost of a taxi I expect there will be repercussions.
After a sleep we walked down to the Rocks area of Sydney which is at the harbour's edge, and as you look over the water the Bridge is on the left and the Opera House on the right. It was dusk and as the light faded and the lighting of these two iconic Sydney structures, and the cruise ships and ferries, became brighter it was a memorable experience.
Needs no introduction.
The handbag made it safely from China to Australia.
It was Saturday evening and the area was really coming alive with lots of restaurants and bars, and as we sat outside having a drink I was particularly struck by the number of young women teetering past in high heels and short skirts who were obviously out to party the night away. The strange thing was the lack of young men of a similar age, and the ones I did notice were hardly dressed for a night out.
The next day was sunny and hot and, after visiting a market and having brunch in a Bavarian Beer house, we decided to go out to Bondi Beach for the afternoon.
On the way to the bus stop.
In accordance with our Australian austerity rules we took a public bus and by some miracle caught the correct one and duly arrived at the beach to find that the entire population of Sydney had had the same idea about how to spend their Sunday afternoon.
Probably the world's most famous beach.
Our God-daughter Caroline Wilson is presently living and working in Sydney and I had been meaning to phone her since our arrival the previous day. After we had settled ourselves down on a grassy area above the beach I called her on my mobile. She answered straight away and asked where we were. I replied; 'at Bondi Beach' and she said; 'so am I, where exactly are you?' I said; 'on the grassy area to the right of the beach.' She replied; 'so am I, I will stand up.' To our amazement we spotted her standing and waving about 50 metres away from us. It was really good to see her, and after chatting to her and her friend Faye, who was at school with her in Harpenden and is also working in Sydney, we arranged to meet up the next evening and go out for a meal.
Caroline (left) and Faye
Guess which one of us took this potograph.
The next day we had our first experience of how quickly the weather can change on the southeast coast of Australia and it poured with rain all day.
Darling Harbour in the rain.
Fran and I like to explore cities on foot but the rain was so heavy it was impossible which was frustrating. However we got around the best we could and finding ourselves outside the Maritime Museum after lunch decided to go in and have a look. They had a special exhibition about the orphaned children who were sent from the UK to Australia and Canada in the forties, fifties and sixties in order to give them a better life. The reality was quite different and many of them suffered terrible abuse and unhappiness, and it is alarming to think how relatively recently this was going on. You may remember that Gordon Brown made a rather mealy mouthed apology on behalf of the UK to these people last year following earlier apologies from the Australian and Canadian governments. Fran found that bit really interesting but her interest seemed to wain when it came to features on submarine warfare and other exciting stuff.
That evening we met the girls and took them out to eat. We enjoyed their company and it was interesting hearing about Sydney from their perspective. They confirmed that there are many more girls than boys in the city, and that in any case Australian boys tended to be loud, boring and self-absorbed!
BLUE MOUNTAINS, NSW. 16/11 - 18/11
The following morning we decided to leave the city and set off for the Blue Mountains in a hire car. Driving in this part of Australia is very straight forward as they drive on the left, are very patient and no one appears to be in a hurry unlike the UK.
On arrival in the Blue Mountains we headed for a visitor information centre where they were very friendly and helpful. They found us accommodation very quickly and we spent 3 nights in a self-contained chalet at Echo Point, a few hundred metres from the Three Sisters lookout point in Katoomba.
The Three Sisters behind my left hand.
(Note my new binoculars close at hand)
The Blue Mountains are not mountains in the conventional sense but are deep and spectacular gorges cut into a high plain. They are thickly wooded with mainly Eucalyptus trees, or 'Blue Gum Trees', and when you look over the forests from above there is a distinct blue haze above the trees.
Deeps gorges and a blue haze.
We did a lot of walking, but with care as we were mindful of the British student who got lost here a few years ago and disappeared for ten days or so.
Fran descends the Giant's Stairway. (The hand rail will bear her imprints for ever.)
Serious overhang. (This one still gives me a funny feeling in the stomach.)
One of many pretty waterfalls.
A rainbow over the Three Sisters.
The waterfalls, scenery and bird life were magnificent and the binoculars Georgie and Olivia gave me for my birthday were invaluable.
Planning the next phase.
EDEN, NSW. 19/11
Our plan was to make our way to Melbourne by the coastal route and then drive back on the inland route to Brisbane in time for the fourth day of the test match in nine days time. We set off from the Blue Mountains at the start of our road trip and, apart from stopping for lunch at the Fitzroy Falls, drove all day. We had seen a lot of bird life in the mountains but we were yet to see any marsupials so we passed the time looking out for kangaroos, wombats and koalas. We had many false sightings which turned out to be cows or rocks but didn't see anything of interest whilst the distance to Melbourne did not seem to be decreasing significantly.
Late in the afternoon, as we approached a town called Eden, I spotted our first kangaroo. In fact there were loads of them grazing on and around one of the greens on a golf course. It was quite a thrill.
Kangaroos on golf course.
That evening we found a really nice motor lodge in Eden with a sea view, and the very friendly receptionist suggested we ate at the Fisherman's Club across the road. Apparently each town in Australia has a club which is affiliated to the Returned Servicemen's League, which is the equivalent of our British Legion, and if you live more than 17 kilometres away you qualify for a generous discount on the cost of food and drink.
Not much to look at but I can recommend it.
WATTLE POINT, VICTORIA. 20/11 - 22/11
The next day we were on the road early in order to make a significant dent in the number of kilometres left between ourselves and Melbourne. The coastal route is called the Princes Highway and is very good single carriageway road with frequent overtaking lanes and very little traffic compared with what we are used to at home. This was a Saturday and most of the traffic seemed to be Solicitors, Doctors and Accountants and the like out on their Harleys exorcising their mid-life crisis. The road actually runs inland after Eden and, with little to see, it became rather tedious which brought on my narcolepsy in no time flat. Fran is quick to spot the signs and insists on taking over the driving at the first jiggle of a leg or scratch of the head or any other habit I have developed to stay awake.
In fact she ended up doing most of the driving that morning and when I woke up I suggested coming off the highway and finding a more minor road along the coast to make it more interesting. It certainly was interesting when we got lost in the middle of nowhere, with dead straight roads stretching away onto the horizon and only passing an isolated smallholding every 20 or 30 minutes. After what seemed an age there were more cattle in the pastures, and then some horses and eventually we passed other cars and trucks as we approached civilisation again on the coast. We were never really lost but it is so easy to underestimate the distances here.
We relaxed by taking a long walk along a nearly deserted beach in the sunshine and came across the decaying remains of a whale, which was interesting but very smelly.
Not the remains of the whale but a rather artistic composition.
The only place the Princes Highway touches the coast between Eden and Melbourne is at a place called Lakes Entrance which is at the opening to the sea from a series of lakes stretching over 100 kilometres, and this was where we decided we would look for somewhere to spend the night. However we took one look and realised it was much too busy and touristy for us so we resorted to the Tourist Information office once again, and they did not let us down. We ended up at a waterfront retreat in a place called Wattle Point, which is on one of the lakes and miles away from anywhere.
Our little house had a view over the water, and the first thing we saw as we parked was a family of kangaroos grazing between it and the lake. The owners of the retreat provide you with seed to feed the many and varied birds that visit the property, but also tell you that the kangaroos are partial to it and encourage you to feed them. Fran needed no persuading and immediately approached them seed in hand. It was a truly remarkable experience as she became surrounded by kangaroos who gently nibbled the seed from her hand. They are the most humorous creatures to watch, and are very human like when standing up on their hind legs and using the paws on their little forelegs like hands.
Fran makes some new friends.
One of the most hungry was a mother with a little joey in her pouch who kept peaking out and looking around, while 'mum' would hold Fran's hand with her front paws as she ate. Very cute.
Joey pops his head out to see the new arrivals.
We had planned to spend one night in the area but we ended up spending three idyllic nights there and Fran became quite a Dr Doolittle, broadening her relationship with the wildlife to include the local parrot population. She became particularly fond of a one eyed parrot she called Winky, and they would have long and meaningful chats together on our patio and I found myself becoming rather jealous.
Winky.
This is not as easy as Fran makes it look and those claws are sharp.
Joey is such a star he deserves a second appearance.
A kangaroo party on our patio.
Fran and Winky deep in conversation.
An echidna passes by busily looking for ants.
I cant resist putting in one more of Joey.
Our little house seen from the end of the jetty.
The view from our little house.
This was scary - I didn't think he would stop.
We were told there was also a Koala somewhere on the property, but despite long walks searching we never saw it.
YANAKIE, VICTORIA. 23/11
By now we were 4 days into our 9 day road trip and had still not made Melbourne, so having left our little house by the lake we stopped at the first MacDonalds we came across to use their free WiFi and book a flight from Melbourne to Brisbane. The time pressure was now off and we could continue to meander our way in a disorganised and totally unplanned fashion towards Melbourne. Incidentally I will not have a word said against MacDonalds where the coffee is very good and the free WiFi works very well. Just avoid the food.
We had been told by our new friend Margaret, who owned the retreat at Wattle Point, that we must visit Wilsons Promontory National Park which is on the southern most tip of mainland Australia. The latter part of this definition is very important to those from Tasmania, or 'Tazzie' as we now like to call it. The local tourist information office sent us to spend the night at accommodation owned by Stan and Margaret (another one) who were a lovely couple in their late seventies. They have a twee house on the edge of the Park, with a twee self contained annex for paying guests in their twee garden which had a flock of pink parrots feeding on the lawn. They both came out to greet us upon our arrival and it was obvious that Margaret had put on lipstick and one of her best dresses for the occasion.
Pink parrots on the twee lawn.
The twee dining area.
The Park was well worth visiting, and soon after entering it we saw our first Emus.
An Australian 'Wiscious Shicken' (family joke)
We went for a long walk by the Tidal River and saw our first Wallaby. I thought it was a kangaroo but Dr Doolittle put me right and pointed out that they are smaller and more brown than the grey of a kangaroo.
A rather shy wallaby.
We also saw our first Wombat, but apparently it does not count as it was squished on the side of the road.
The mouth of the Tidal River in the Wilson Promontory Park.
LORNE, VICTORIA. 24/11
Before we left Yanakie our hosts came out to bid us farewell, and if it appears I have been unkind to them in previous paragraphs that was not my intention as they are a lovely couple. Margaret was concerned that Fran was not using enough sun lotion, and discussed making conserves from the various exotic fruits which grew in the garden. Stan picked some fruit, which we cannot remember the name of, from a tree for us to taste and after we had made all the right noises insisted we took a bag full with us.
I then spotted the MG car insignia on his large garage door much to Margaret's delight who informed me proudly; 'he's got a bit of English history in there.' He certainly had, and with much pride he opened the doors and drew back a cover to reveal an immaculate 1953 MG TF which he had painstakingly restored. He had even sent a flake of the original paint to MG in the UK so that they could send him the paint formula, and now it is the identical colour to when it left the factory 57 years ago. He also had a beautiful trimaran in his garage which he had built from scratch out of wood and had not quite finished. I got the feeling he never would as he was probably no longer youthful enough to sail it.
Somehow he had deduced that I am partial to the odd drop of beer and as a parting gesture insisted I take a couple of bottles of his home brewed ale. A really special man.
We had been told we could not miss driving down the Great Ocean Road which runs round the coast to the southwest of Melbourne, so we took the ferry across the southern part of Port Philip Bay, South of Melbourne, and spent the night in a place called Lorne in anticipation of a beautiful scenic drive the next day.
Some idiot one deck down on the ferry.
Appears to be same idiot catching up on current affairs.
(Actually I think it was an article on the latest Australian angst over the selection of their team for the first test.)
It started to rain that evening as Dr Doolittle was conversing with a flock of White Cockatoos on the balcony of our motor lodge room, and did not let up for the rest of the evening.
Fran likes a cockatoo but this is ridiculous.
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA. 25/11 - 26/11
The rain which had started the previous evening had become torrential overnight, which left the Cockatoos looking bedraggled and the visibility from the Great Ocean Road almost zero. We decided to continue as far as the Kennet River, where we had been told we would definitely see Koalas, and then if the weather had not improved cut our losses and drive directly to Melbourne.
We drove up a track beside the Kennet River and sure enough saw a Koala almost immediately. It was a bit of a thrill as our quest for a Koala sighting had been going on for nearly ten days now, but also slightly disappointing as it was just a still dark ball at the top of a very high gum tree. My new binoculars revealed a very wet and miserable looking Koala, who appeared to be asleep wedged high up in the fork of an alarmingly thin looking branch.
Not our first koala but the only one that was vaguely photogenic.
We saw several more but they were all high up and difficult to photograph against the sky, but one or two were awake and lazily feeding on leaves.
A memorial to the returning servicemen from WW1 who built the Great Ocean Road in memory of their fallen comrades. (The jacket lying on the rock bears a row of medals.)
No improvement in the visibility so off we went to Melbourne where we were aiming for the city centre tourist information office. You could see the city centre sky scrapers from miles away but as we got close we disappeared down an underpass and when we eventually surfaced they were nowhere to be seen and we were in a remote suburb the other side of the city. A Chinese taxi driver could not have done a better job. In retrospect perhaps a proper road map of the city would have been beneficial instead of the pictorial tourist version we had picked up somewhere, and would have saved us the $30 toll we had to pay for going somewhere we did not want to go. With the aid of the compass function on my trusty iPhone (it does not require any data download Fran) we eventually found the city centre and a hotel for the night.
BRISBANE, QUEENSLAND. 27/11 - 28/11
We had the day in Melbourne which started off well with sunshine and a visit to an enormous market followed by a tram ride to the port area for lunch.
This chap was better than Rolph Harris at playing the didgereedoo.
I have just realised how big this market is.
An Australian Christmas shop. Note the beer in Father Christmas' left hand.
Touching Kylie's bum - a long held ambition.
Fran waiting for a tram in the sunshine.
That was when it started to rain again and the trams took on the appearance of ferries pushing a significant bow wave before them.
Fran waiting for a tram in the rain.
This brick tower used to be the highest structure in Melbourne. It is now enclosed and forms the centrepiece of a shopping mall.
Our flight to Brisbane was in the evening and being Friday the roads and the airport were packed solid. To add to the misery all flights were delayed owing to the massive thunderstorms lingering over the area. We eventually arrived in Brisbane in the early hours of the 27th.
Now you would think that an experienced traveller, knowing he was turning up in a city hosting the first Ashes Test, would have had the foresight to book accommodation well in advance. Perhaps the ease with which we had found accommodation thus far had engendered a false confidence but our ace card, the Tourist Information office, was closed. The first hotel receptionist I phoned chuckled with ironic disbelief that I was even asking if they had a vacancy and informed me that I would be very lucky to get a room anywhere in Brisbane that weekend.
As the enormity of my stupidity began to dawn, and I started to contemplate a night spent on the airport floor a man came along and announced the domestic terminal was closing and please would we move on. Even the airport floor had now been denied us. Just as we were about to leave the terminal I called about the sixth hotel from a bundle of brochures we had picked up and they had a room available. It was at a price but it was a room for the night so I booked it. What a relief.
Now all we had to do was get there, and with our Australian austerity rules temporarily suspended we headed for the taxi rank. I could not believe my eyes when we approached it as the queue of waiting people stretched as far as we could see into the darkness. We walked along the queue for ages before eventually coming to its end about 200 metres from the rank. Apparently most of the city's taxis were the other side of town doing brisk business for the cricket fans.
Eventually we arrived at the hotel only to see YMCA written large on the outside of the building. We were given a key and as we approached our door I expected to see bunk beds stacked high occupied by unwashed backpackers. But no, it was a small but clean room which was perfectly adequate for what little was now left of the night.
Our YMCA experience.
The next morning we walked to the tourist information office and in no time we had secured a luxury apartment within walking distance of the Gabba cricket ground at about half the cost of our YMCA room. Wonderful people the Tourist Information ladies.
