24 hours in Hong Kong

Due to the joys of Indonesian air travel (decrepit airports, lousy timekeeping) my leisurely 4 days in Hong Kong was pegged back to an exhausting, exhilarating 24 hours. So what can you do when you've only got one day to spend in one of the most crazy cities in the world? Well this is what I managed...

9pm
From the super sleek new international airport at Chek Lap Kok, it's time to throw the bags in left luggage and jump on the express train into town. It only takes 20 minutes to get into the centre. They go every few minutes and are clean, quiet and safe. Then in a cheap cab to check in to a hotel in Jordan on Kowloon. Accommodation is pretty expensive here but you can get a full service room for under 90 US dollars. The room has a central console where everything operates from. It takes me ten minutes to work out how to turn on the TV.

10:30pm
Only a 5 minute walk from the hotel is the night market at Temple Street. All kinds of stuff is sold here from clothes to clocks, DVD's to paintings. In the side streets there are great cafes to get some grub and they do live free Cantonese singing performances. It's late in the evening but everyone is still out in the 30 degree heat. Neon lights flash over my head as people race around. Welcome to HK it's full on.

11:30pm
One stop down the metro is Tsim Sha Tsui, HK's tourist ghetto. All the cheap tailors hang out here who'll turn around a suit for you in 48 hours. I don't have that much time though, Boo! I quickly check out Chungking Mansions. The notorious backpackers hovel / sleaze building which was captured in the great film Chungking Express. Cinematographer Chris Doyle says this is the real heart of the city. It's hard to disagree.

12:30pm
I'm fading fast in the humidity so it's down to one of the many basement bars for a pint of San Miguel, the local brew. Pop videos blare out from a corner TV, groups of friends huddle round tables exchanging gossip, drunk financiers quaff champagne. It's all good fun. I stagger out on to Nathan Road and avoiding the approaches of the local drug dealers/prostitutes and touts it's time for some shut eye.

08:00am
The air-con in my room lulls me into a false sense of comfort and as soon as I'm outside the heat blasts straight through me. Joining the rush hour I squeeze on to the metro to Central. Stepping out of the station you immediately look up and gaze at all the skyscrapers. HK loves it's tall buildings. From HSBC's robot like structure, to the mighty Two IFC they represent what the city does best, making money.

09:00
The peak tram is one of the most touristy things you can do, but it's still worth it. Rising from beside Hong Kong park to the Peak park, the vista of the city opens up before you. It's truly stunning and the gods have been gracious enough to give us a clear day to grant amazing views over Kowloon to the New Territories. The park is a lovely space to stretch your legs away from the maddening crowds. Also it's about 5 degrees cooler, not that it matters as my shirt is quickly flecked by sweat. August is a brutal time in the city, apparently November is ideal though..

11:00
Stroll back down to Hong Kong park through the mid-levels. It's all plush apartment complexes housing upper management of all the banking firms. Accommodation is really tight on Hong Kong Island, so most people schlep in on the metro from Kowloon. Quickly see the birds in the aviary. It doesn't look too much fun living your life in a huge net.

13:00
Lunch! and it has to be Dim Sum. There are hundreds of places which specialise in tasty treats which come in little bamboo bowls. I settled on a place in Soho (South of Hollywood Rd, not anything to do with the 'adult' district of london) and tucked into steamed chicken and ginger dumplings, Carrot and pumpkin soup, spring rolls with pak choi, shredded duck parcels; all washed down with green tea. Yum!

15:00
Over to the Western Market to look at some great fabrics and some not so great antiques. Cat St sells lots of bric-a-brac and is a good place to pick up last minute gifts. Nearby there are some independent clothes shops which are worth a browse. Beware, they usually don't stock large sizes. so if you've had a few too many stir fries you might not find anything to fit. Myself being a lithe bunny I had the pick of the range...

17:00
After a thoroughly underwhelming visit to the noon day gun, made famous by Noel Coward in 'Mad Dogs and Englishmen', it's back over the water to the Peninsula Hotel. This hotel is one of the best in the world and commanded great views over to Hong Kong Island. New Buildings on the waterfront have obscured some of these views, but the grand hall is still as impressive as ever. Next time I have 500 quid to burn, I'll be staying here. The Gin & Tonics are very good though.

19:00
My mad dash around the city is almost at an end. Only enough time to check out the statue of Bruce Lee on the street of stars. He was voted "Hong Kong Film Legend of the 20th Century". There are metal barriers keeping eager fans back. Lining the waterfront there are also concrete hand prints of other famous stars including Michelle Yeoh, Jet Li and Jackie Chan.

19:30
Saving the best journey to last I catch the Star Ferry over to the rail terminal. It's a fantastic 9 minute hop and you have a chance to gaze at the amazing skyline lit up against the setting sun. Hong Kong is a dizzying, maddening city where nothing happens at less than full speed. Around each corner is another surprise. It's sweaty, chaotic, joyful and confusing. All life is represented here, and to visit here you'll feel more alive too.

Komodo Latte

After three days of exhausting travel across some notorious Indonesian seas on a boat which looked like a shed I'm finally face to face with a dragon. We are on the legendary Komodo Island, a world Heritage site and a unique place. The savage beast which has struck fear into the hearts of man for generations is only a few feet away from me. It's about 2 meters long and I can see it breathing. I can almost smell the power of this ferocious reptile. And do you know where this harbinger of doom was when we came across it? Next to the bloody visitors cafe! Probably wondering if it should order the cappuccino or the latte. They really do not know any fear and a bunch of gringos fresh off a boat was not going to scare it.

If my first encounter with the fearsome dragon was not exactly what I expected, it certainly wasn't the last. Komodo national park covers three islands are are the only home to this endangered species. Across two days we hiked on Komodo and Rinca Islands which sit just off the coast of Flores. I counted about 15 dragons in total (which conveniently made the park entrance fee 1 dollar = 1 dragon, which is probably a fair price..). Also on the islands were, buffalo, deer, monkeys, wild boar and some fearsome looking cobras.

All the time I was walking through this amazing landscape all I could think when we spotted another animal was 'Dragon food!'. The Komodo Dragon has no predators and so it sits impressively on top of the food chain on these islands. Even so there are only just around 3000 of the dragons left in the wild, and a extensive conservation program is being undertaken to keep these unique creatures alive.

A guide shows you around and carries a big stick to whack a dragon on the nose if it gets too close. A few tourists have ended up dragon meat whilst visiting. Even the late Steve Irwin (see No More Jam passim) almost got bitten by a dragon and had to quickly climb a tree to escape. We met the guide who showed Irwin around when he made his TV show. By the expression on his face when he told us about the incident you could tell he thought Irwin was a bit of a fool for going so close to these unpredictable killers. "You never know when they are going to attack, even if they are resting, they always have one eye on the prey".

Into the land of Dragons

Just back in civilisation after taking a four day boat 'experience' from Lombok to Flores. I'll post a decent story about coming damn close to some dragons in Komodo, but I really need to get some food before I faint with exhaustion.

Needless to say it's a story of high jinxs on the High seas, a boat which should have been down the bottom of someones' garden, Chemistry experiements involving beer bottles and nooses, a close understanding of the feeling when you dive into a jelly fish and ultimately the answer to the question; Do dragons cast magic spells?

An Island in the sun..

So the No More Jam trip is fast approaching it's conclusion. Soon it's back to London and reality beckons! What a dreadful thought. To stave off such thoughts (and they are coming thick and fast now) I have found a small island called Gilli Meno to retreat to.

Sitting off the coast of Lombok, the island boasts only 300 full time inhabitants. You can walk all the way around the island in just over 1 hour, it's that small. It's also an exercise in sensory deprivation as well, to put it bluntly, there is not a lot to do. You can sit on the beach, or go out with your snorkel and play with the sea turtles, a colony which live about 100 meters off the north coast, by a coral wall. And that's about it really.

I was told to come here by a genial Irish couple who I met in Ubud a couple of weeks ago. "Go stay with the mad french guys at Tao Kombo!" they had insisted. It was one of the best tips I've had on the trip. See their site for some good pics. Any guys that quote Emile Zola are cool in my book. It's a top place. Last night a family from the one village on the island came and played (it was Indonesian Independence day). with simple drums, a cross between a guitar and a lute and some haunting singing by an 83 year old, the atmosphere was pretty cool. I'm staying for a week before heading to the madness of Hong Kong. Salut maintenant mes amis!

Let me take bag, yes?

One of the downsides of travel, especially in the Far East is the amount of hassle you get. Mostly it's good natured and you can't really resent a bloke showing you a suitcase of knocked off watches whilst you eat your Nasi Goreng (fried rice) in the local Warung (food stall).

It becomes more of a problem in other situations though. This morning I took the public ferry across from Bali to Lombok. As you aproach the boat a gaggle of blokes abound to take yuor bags on board the boat for you. Obviously this invovles a tip. The big problem occured when a couple of the 'porters' just grabbed some random bags and ran on board with them, and then demanded money from the people once they caught up to claim their bags!

A full on row happened in the middle of the 'lounge' deck of the boat. The 'porters' were demanding money for their services and this danish couple were refusing to pay. A sort of mexican stand off ensued for the next couple of minutes before the porters eventually sulked away! Well after that exciteent the next 5 hours of the ferry ride were an anticlimax of bad pop videos and overpriced snacks. Ahh the joys of travel....

Monkeys, Dragons and Seaweed

A bit of a catch up on the last week or so in here in Indonesia. I'm sitting in a cafe in the port town of Padang Bai, waiting to catch a ferry over to Lombok.

I spent most of last week in the glorious hill town of Ubud. It's sits in a river valley about 25 km north of the capital Denpasar. Rich green rice paddy fields flank either side of the town. I spent some lovely mornings walking up the Capuan ridge amongst the long Elephant grass overlooking the town.

Ubud is famous for it's culture and everywhere you look there are artists, writers and musicians working away in studios. The town is also famous for it's Dancing. I went one night to a traditional Kecak dance which depicted the story of a prince and princess being separated in a forest by an evil Ogre. There were 6 main players but what made it special was the choir of a hundred or so men who kept up a trance like chant for the whole performance. They also set the scene for each act and made great monkey noises "Cha-cha-cha-ou-eiieee!". Great fun.

Monkey's abound in Ubud. The main drag where I stayed was called Monkey Forest Road. At the end of this drag was a temple with a large colony of grey Macao Monkeys. They are nothing like the dosile pictures on the ticket you get at the entry though. They're greedy sods! Half way around my walk and there's tens of the guys all jumping around you wanting bananas. One ever jumped on my back, only to run off again when I had nothing to offer it.

After all the culture you can relax and get a massage. Ubud excels at this. For about 5 pounds I got pushed pummeled and cleansed of the nasty stuff in me for an hour. Afterwards you sit under a pagoda drinking ginger tea and feeling, well, blissed out.

For the last few days I travelled over to the tiny island of Nusa Lemborgan. It's main product is seaweed. They harvest tons of the stuff here from the nutrient rich water. Every afternoon they crop comes in and they lay it out on big blue sheets to dry before it is packed in plastic to be shipped away. Seaweed is an emulsifier. It's the stuff in ice cream which makes it creamy!

So now off to Lombok. I tried to get here on my 2000 round the world tour but they were in the process of burning Christians out of their houses. I hope I get a better reception. this time around....

Bali rising

Over a beer in a hotel in Oz, I mentioned to an aussie that my next destination was Bali, Indonesia. "Why the hell do you want to go there? They all hate us!" He almost spat over the table. I tried to reason with the guy that the hate of a few medieval religous fanatics shouldn't stop you going to visit a place. He wasn't being convinced though and muttered into his beer that what I was doing was stupid and dangerous.

The Bali bombings of October 2002 have left a big scar between the two countries. Over 200 were killed and 88 of those were Australian. Relations between Jakarta and Canberra have been pretty poor ever since. When suicide bombers blew themselves up in Kuta Square in 2005 a bad situation was made worse. Tourist numbers that were dramatically down, plunged further still, and now there are 50% less Aussies and Japanese visiting than in 2001. Since Bali was the prime overseas destination for Antipodeans, that's a lot of people for an economy which relies heavily on tourism to cope without.

After a few days in Kuta beach, the centre of tourism on this small island I was wondering what the place would be like if it wasn't for the bombs. The place is maddeningly busy! The beach and streets are teeming with visitors. This is high season and just getting across the street can be an exhausting process. Motorbikes and small jeeps are everywhere. If you're really brave you can rent one from any of the guys on the street. I looked at the traffic and gave it a miss.

Kuta Beach is the big attraction and I grabbed a surf board and headed in to the waves. Surfing is a huge draw here and there are many big breaks along the coast. As I'm fairly amateur at it I was glad just to be able to stand and follow the surf in. Guys behind me on th the bigger left handers were zipping along and producing mean cut-backs and drop-offs. If I had a year practicing every day maybe, just maybe I could get that good!

Three days was enough for me in Kuta and now I'm in Ubud to get the lowdown on the culture, visit some cool temples and go chill out in a spa. Ahhh........

The farewell to Oz Top End Tour

By the time I landed in Darwin, I was wanting to leave Oz. I've been here two months now and it was starting to take it's toll. Endless anonymous backpacker hostels, bad meals and TV leave you feeling drained. I needed something to engage in again, and then I found it out in the bush. The three national parks of Kakadu, Nitmiluk and Litchfield are the big draws to folk who venture up to the 'Top End' of Australia. There are many tour companies ready to take a hefty wad of dollars out of your wallet to show you around.

Well being a hardy traveller I didn't feel the need to be guided about, I wanted to explore out my own pace. So with three new friends I found from loitering about in the backpackers (Big up Ian, Nina and Kim!), we hired a campervan and set out into the wilderness.

Kakadu is larger than Belgium, and has only two roads accessing it (probably just like Belgium). We cruised down the Arnhem Highway and checked out the huge turmite mounds which stand up to 5 meters tall on the side of the road. They're also magnetic and the little critters always build then North/south so they get the least heat from the sun and so keep themselves cool.

The landscape is awesome out there. Natural Rock escarpments meet wetlands and tropical rainforest. An abundance of wildlife from wallabies, kites, bald headed eagles and crocodiles call this place home. Ahh the crocodiles. There's a reason they shot a lot of 'Crocodile Dundee' here. Saltwater and Freshwater crocs are everywhere. Talking to a Ranger he said they counted 90 crocs in a 4 km stretch of the park. Wanting to see for ourselves we went down to the banks of the East Alligator River and almost immediately saw one on the far side of the bank. Being careful not to stand too close to the edge as tourists have been eaten by Salties in the past we peered into the murky depths. It all got a bit frightening when the croc turned and headed towards us then suddenly dived underwater. Time to go!

The park also contains some great waterfalls. Having only a 2WD we didn't manage to check out Jim Jim Falls but went to Gunlom instead. These falls drop into a large plunge pool from a series of four infinity pools 70 meters above. TRhe water was great to swim in and was croc free!

Onwards to Katherine Gorge. This stretch of the Katherine river 200kms south of Kakadu is famed for it's sheer limestone cliffs and pristine water. We hiked 5 kms from our campsite to through Butterfly gorge to the river. En route we, wait for it, yup saw butterflies as well as a couple of fast moving snakes. Luckily they were moving in the opposite direction as my time here has only fuelled my paranioa of the dastardly creatures.

The gorge opens up onto a spectacular bend in the river after cooling off in water we eat our sandwiches on the bank and wached turtles come up and nearly nibble on our toes. Cool.

Lastly we hit Litchfield park about 15o km's south of Darwin. The park has a series of swimming holes and yet more waterfalls for the perfect spot for a natural shower. Florence and Wangi falls were still pounding water over their edges even two months into the dry season. The pools are big enough that you can still get away from the day trippers and find a quiet(ish) spot.

Over 6 days these three parks showed me that the best parts of Oz are the ones miles away from the towns. Going bush is the way to go.

Onwards to Indonesia!

Back in (semi) civilisation

Hup!

Back in Darwin after 6 nights on the road in a campervan touring Kakadu, Katherine Gorge and Litchfield National Parks with new friends Kim, Ian and Nina. Cool Photos to follow but there were dicy encounters with crocodiles, snakes, friendly wallabies and mad park rangers.

I'll be posting a decent story or two in the next couple of days but right now I really need a beer and some food!..

Sail-a-Whale

"Ha! Ha ha ha! I love these animals!" Captain John shouts from the back of the catamaran. His face is beaming with excitement at the spectacle taking place only 10 meters to the starboard side of the boat.

Three Southern right whales, a mother and her calf and, erm Auntie Maureen are checking us out. Their huge black backs break the water, and the white markings on the heads are clearly visible. Richard the deck hand screams "I've seen her before, she was here last year" pointing to the mum. The calf breaths and a shot of water arcs into the air. The eight passengers on board are collectively holding our breath to see what will happen next.

The family suddenly ducks down beneath the waves and swims right under the twin hulls before appearing again on the port side. For a moment we've been accepted into part of this huge mammals family. And it's bloody amazing. For the next 25 minutes they keep in close contact with the boat occasionally raising their heads above the water, or 'spy hopping' to take a better look at us.

I'm on the HMV Sail-a-way, off the coast of Albany. The large bay is home each year to hundreds of Southern Right (named by hunters because they floated when shot, and contained lots of precious oil) and Humpback whales. They come here because of the warm Leeuwin current which pushes down the cape coast and the relative safety of the bay.

I say relative, because less than 30 years ago, whales were still hunted off the Southern Australian coast. Albany was at the centre of this trade. The aptly named ' Whale World' (party on!) at the nearby Frenchman's bay tells the story of the industry. It finally closed down on November 30 1978, one of the first big successes of the environmental lobby.

Now a new battle is being fought, this time by the Australian government against Japanese whales who are this year hunting 500 humpback whales in Australian governed Antarctic waters.

As we head for home with a wonderful pod of bottlenose dolphins playing in the bow wave before us, a humpback 'breaches' and jumps almost out of the water ahead of us. The noise is audible from over a kilometer away. Our luck seems endless this bright cold morning, and I don't want to be anywhere else....

A walk in the woods

You look up and it's still a way to go. The tree creaks alarmingly as it sways in the wind. You look down and it's a long way back to earth. You try to look out but all you get is driving rain in your face. Concentrate and hold on to the cold metal. Take a deep breath and start climbing again.

I'm at the Gloucester Tree in Pemberton, part of the giant forests of the South West. A dead straight and frankly huge tree only 3km from the town, this is the main attraction in the area. The tree is special for being one of four climbing trees. A series of metal spikes have been driven into the tree trunk at 1 foot intervals, all the way up to it's 50 meter top. They were first used by the forest rangers to act as a fire lookout. Now with only a flimsy looking side net you can climb all the way to the top too...

Probably best not done in the middle of a gale though. In the middle of winter. On your own.

Once at the top the wind pins you back against the fence. The lookout sways about 1 meter. In the lashing rain I was pretty sure there's no fires to be concerned with. The view is remarkable even against the heavy leaden sky. In summer this would be wonderful. I'm just concentrating on not getting blown over the side.

The only problem now is getting down again..

Caves and Quaffing

I've just arrived in Margaret River, which if anyone has been looking at the shelves of their local Oddbins recently is where some really nice plonk comes from. It is also famous for some very good surf at the river head, if you're brave enough (which I'm not - the waves are bloody huge), and some outstanding limestone caves.

Ngilgi Cave, is 28 meters deep and full of amazing stalagmites (they grow up) and stalactites (yup, they grow down). A bloke out trying to find his lost horse, came across the cave in 1899, and with a mate decided it would be a good weeze to show tourists around. In those days you had to crawl on your hands and knees with a candle to get through the system. Now they've put in useful things like electricity and steps. It's alot easier to navigate around but I bet it was more fun in those days.

After leaving the caves I headed south and hit the wineries. Most have open cellars and tastings. So in full 'Sideways' mode, I went to a few to check them out. It's all good fun pretending you know something about wine. I pretty much know nothing, but with a few choice phrases half remembered from old 'Food and Drink' shows I gave it a go.

Vasse Felix is the oldest of the wineries and is now a large concern. The driveway up to the sculptured lake and restaurant is impressive. Once inside you can sup on some very nice Chardonnay and some okay Cabarnet Merlot. I had a big temptation to pipe up with the line, "If any one orders f**king Merlot, I'm leaving!" But I managed to contain myself.

I pootled around some of the other wineries; (Laurence, Moss Brothers and Cullen's) just to get the full experience. I managed picked up a couple of decent bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. With no room in the backpack looks like I'll have to drink them before my flight up to sunny Darwin on Monday. Chin Chin!

Back on the road

I've left the city behind and I'm back on the road! With a stupidly cheap rental car, which has fancy things like power steering and a reverse that actually works.

I'm on a tour of the South West. The plan is to tour some of Margaret Rivers world famous wineries, go see where the Indian and Pacific ocean meet and climb an 80 meter tree. Woo and indeed Hoo!

A mention has to be made to the good folk at Pirates backpackers in Fremantle. It was Bastille day on Saturday so with a large French contingent we hosted a big party with lots of food, cheap Champagne and rousing renditions of "Aux Champs Elysees! ". Entente cordiale indeed!

Big things: Revelation Film Festival

On Saturday I took myself along to the very interesting Revelation Film festival. It was celebrating 10 years from humble beginnings in a basement to now covering 4 different locations and programming over 100 films, shorts and documentaries.

I saw an excellent documentary called 'Big Dreamers'. It's about the north Queensland town of Tully, which in a bid to generate tourism to the town decided to erect a big wellington boot, paint in gold and stick a frog on the side of it. Why?. Tully is the wettest town in Australia, and they though a gumboot would be a worth while symbol to that fact. I've been to Tully once in 2000, and it was chucking it down, so I can certainly agree with that.

Director Camille Hardman has produced a really entertaining film, and over the course of an hour shows the ups and downs of the local people as they set about erecting this boot. It was opened in 2003 and stands 7.9 meters high. Every year there is now a gumboot festival in the town.

What I can't get is the obsession with all things big in this country. Various towns around Australia have put up large bananas, gallahs, koala bears and even a giant potato. What on earth for? By and large they look ugly and stupid. It's embarrassing. But then people come on coach trips to look at these things. Never underestimate the stupidity of the general public, especially if they're in 40 degree heat. Sometimes you look at humanity and gently weep.

Freemantle & Facebook

I've now relocated from Perth to the sunny seaside in Freemantle. It's nice here, you can eat fish and chips by the dockside and do battle with very brave seagulls. There's some cool cafe's and pubs to hang out in and some interesting shops to browse. Also the cat in the place where I'm staying comes and sleeps on my lap.

Oh, and I've finally joined the online frippery which is Facebook. I had no idea what it was until I went travelling and now everyone seems to be jumping on this particular bandwagon. Enjoy.

Perth; What makes a decent city?

Right, I've finally made it to WA. After the outback adventure, it's back into city life. Perth is the most isolated capital city in the world, but it seems to be coping just fine. The skyscrapers glimmer against the blue sky, people jog along the swan river and catch up with the gossip at a pavement side cafe.

WA has the highest economic growth and the lowest unemployment of all Australia, and the locals seemed pretty chuffed with their lot. From the vantage point of glorious Kings Park, overlooking the CBD, I started wondering what makes some cities better than others.

Any city can win me over, and be guaranteed my love and devotion for ever if it gets a few of the following right.
1) You've got to be able to walk around it (Berlin yes; LA, no!). You don't get any sense of a place sitting behind a wheel of a car in 4 lanes of traffic.
2) Have at least one bonkers architect run riot (Barcelona and Gaudi for example). Do not have uniform buildings or you'll end up looking like San Jose, or worse Coventry.
3) Make sure you have a decent city park. Perth is a good example, Kings Park has great views and interesting design. Vancouver's' Stanley park is also fantastic. Imagine London without Hyde Park or Hamstead Heath? I'd rather not. One exception to this rule is Paris. It has no decent central parks, but it has the Seine and 'Shakespeare & Co' so I'll let it off.
4) A good place to have a drink or three. The best way to get to know the locals is over a beer/bottle of wine. Seville is great for this, as is Bangkok. Try getting drunk in Denver? It's bloody hard, which is why it sucks.
5) Culture! Throw a festival and I'll buy a ticket. Edinburgh shrugs off it's stuffy image and goes mad in August, Austin TX is brilliant because of SXSW. Geneva on the other hand just has banks - boo!
6) Throw in a couple of good cafe's, second hand bookstores and record shops ( "Do you have anything that goes 'Beep la la, love, beep' I think it's on a white lable?") and I'm more smitten than a teenage crush.

It's that easy, go on cities of the world, what are you waiting for!

Alice Springs update

Yup the blog is back! After a two week hiatus I've managed to find a computer in this little ol' town in the middle of the desert. So Here's some photo's taken along the road from Adelaide to Alice Springs in a 4x4 with a group of mad French, Dutch and Adelaidians.

We slept in Swags under the stars, eat horrible vegemite sandwiches, stopped at the pinkest roadhouse in the world and drank in the most remote pub in Australia. All that before joining the tourist crowds to look at the sunset over Uluru (Ayers Rock to any colonial types out there.) 'Props out' as they might say to Tomato Joe, Amanda, Marleen, Blandine, Julien 'good night everybody!' and David and Diane.

Talc Alf

Remote places seem to attract some interesting people. Talc Alf is one of them. Born in Holland, Cornelius Johan Alferink found his way to Australia in 1960. he's had a varied an interesting career from outback explorer, geological surveyor and now doing the twice weekly post run from Lyndhurst.

What Talc Alf is famous for is his carved stone art, campaign for a Australian republic (with a new flag) and a truely bizarre take on the origins of the Alphabet. Talc's take on it is literal geographic.

Talc Alf produces printed sheets with the alphabet on them with ideas the B = women, because if you turn a B on it's side it looks like a pair of breasts....

He explained to me in front of his chalk board that the name 'Michael' means "life force of the mountain (M = mountain, Cha = life, el = of). And all along I thought I was an Archangel, and patron saint of underwear. Oh well....

Terry & Sharpy, the Iga Warta Experience

"Ah, man this is really difficult to do" says Terry Coulthard as he places his cut finger on the fretboard of his guitar. The pain races through his nerves and a wince appears on his face. He battles on gamely though and finishes the song. A group of 8 of us are sitting around the campfire listening to Terry as he sings some of his people's stories. The pride is obvious in his voice as he relates the creation stories of his people.

We were at Iga Warta, a small community set up in the Northern Flinders Ranges of South Australia by the Adnyamathanha Aboriginal group. Enterprising brothers Cliff and Terry Coulthard have been inviting visitors on to their land to learn more about their local culture. It's a way of helping keep a threatened tradition alive and for them to make a living out of the land they were born into. Paul Kelly and Joel Edgerton are some of the celebrities who have visited this charming place. It was refreshing to see first hand a positive situation, in amongst a negative environment.

Aboriginal groups around Australia are in for a hard time at the moment. A damning report entitled 'little children are sacred' released last month paints a gloomy picture of Indigenous life in remote communities. Alcoholism is rife, job opportunities are scarce, life expectancy is low and child abuse is common. Prime Minister John Howard is using the report to 'get tough' on Aboriginal communities by withholding benefits and drafting in more police, just in time for elections later this year.

Iga Warta was in stark contrast to the portrait of a people beaten down by decades of displacement and loss of hope and meaning. Here was local people coming together to make something valuable from their land.

After a night sleeping around the campfire in our swags, another local, Sharpy took us out for a drive to the Ochre pits. He showed us the different colours of ochre and how, when mixed with water, they paint onto your skin. He told us of old ceremonies where boys would go out for years at a time in to the bush to be taught the laws of the group. They don't manage to do that these days as a vast open face coal mine has ripped through their sacred sites to provide low grade fuel for the Port Augusta power station.

We left the community with an insight into a different life and a song written by Terry's little cousin "Oh my Walla' which would be sung all the way to Uluru.

Meow, Meow! Adelaide Cabaret

With the new hip burlesque shows doing the rounds of New York and London, Adelaide is also bringing back an ol fave in terms of Cabaret.

I went to see 'Meow Meow', who I think was English, spent must of the time draped around audience members and belted out a few french standards inbetween. The show was fun but there was a lot of padding (excuse the pun).

I did meet at my table a local headmaster Rudi, and his wife and brother in law. We all then went across to the festival late night club to watch a good jazz/swing combo called 'The Shuffle club' and danced around with an appreciative crowd. I stumbled home with sax ringing in my ears!

Adelaide update

After feeling a bit in limbo in Noosa, I decided to jump on a plane and get to Adelaide. The easyjet effect seems to be racing around the planet, and JetStar which is an offshoot of Quantas got me there for a pretty good 50 quid.

This city has a reputation for being a bit dull compared to Sydney or Melbourne, but I think that's a little harsh. The centre is pretty and easy to get around, with trams and even a free bus. The locals appear pretty chipper and there seems to always have a festival going on (Currently it's a Cabaret fest).

I was in two minds wether to go straight to Perth, or stop here and take the train. So obviously I've not done either of those options and I've booked on a 4x4 expidition through the red centre. The thought of sharing a backpacker bus full of 18 year olds, made me shiver. But then I found a small company, Heading Bush, which looks pretty good, and we get to sleep under the stars in Swags. Hopefully it should be good fun and the trip will get back on to a good footing after this not so great week. We head out on Monday at oh-my-god o'clock. Nice.

Feeling down? Hug a Koala..

What do you do when things aren't going your way? Do you reach for the biggest box of chocolates and the TV? Grab a bottle of scotch? Practice your rizla rolling skills? Well here's a different method to banish those blues, Go hug a marsupial.

After mocking the big signs advertising Australia Zoo in my last post, I actually decided to visit the place. With an enforced longer stay in Noosa, due to the implosion of the Long Drive CamperVan trip, I was looking for fun things to distract me. Playing around with wild/dangerous animals sounded like an ideal way.

Going to the zoo is a bit of a retro thing these days. Long gone are the times where the only place you'd be able to see wild or exotic animals was going down to your local zoological park. Now with the aid of Animal Planet TV, David Attenborough, and cheap flights to the places they film, why bother with the zoo when you can go to the real thing? And is it really ok to keep wild animals locked up for entertainment?

Also I was intrigued at the cult growing around the late Steve Irwin, self styled Crocodile Hunter. His style was the anti David Attenborough, who thought the best way to help conserve habitats was going in shouting "Crikey!" and wrestling the most dangerous animals there. Until his demise at the tail of a stingray last year, Steve Irwin had built a massive Zoo in his image (and there are literally hundreds of his pictures around the place), after taking over the management of the place from his parents.

Walking around the zoo even on a freezing cold winters day, you get the sense that it is a pretty well run operation. All the animals seem to have a big enough place to live and big fences are kept to an absolute minimum. The zoo prides itself on being interactive and so you can get up close to some of the more fun animals.

This is how I came to be holding a koala in both hands and trying desperately not to sneeze. It seemed content to sit on my arms and look about. The handler looked slightly concerned that I was going to drop the animal but I manage to keep a vague amount of composure before handed back the eucalyptus loving bear back. And I have to say it was great fun.

After that I went around and hugged/patted on the back/scared a few more creatures just for the hell of it. So the hit list included a red kangaroo, a wombat, a two month old calf, a goat and an Indian elephant by the unfortunate name of Bimbo. What I really wanted was to go and say hello to the two beautiful tigers they had, but apparently they'd rip my head off. As I'm quite fond of my head I thought best to not press the issue with the keeper.

The centre of the zoo is the bizarrely named 'Crocoseum'. A three thousand seat semi circle theatre where shows are held twice daily. The one I attended was called 'Wildlife Warriors'. It was a jarring mix of showing animals off, heavy handed environmentalism and badly performed comedy. Shivering against the wind the enthusiastic audience watched various birds, snakes and a grumpy crocodile called Norman (as in Bates, from the Hitchcock 'Pyscho' film). In between exhibits there were prerecorded pieces from the late Steve and his wife Terri. They were telling people how the had to become 'wildlife warriors' and to recycle their rubbish.

The slightly unnerving aspect to the zoo is that Steve Irwin is in most cases still spoken of in the present tense. The pair hosting the Crocoseum show said things like "lets see Steve's second enviro rule" and even said "Thanks Steve!" after the end of a pre-recorded clip. The tag line of the zoo is "The home of the Crocodile Hunter" like they were expecting him to burst through the door any moment with another "Crikey!" and tales of wrestling another unfortunate animal in the bush.

Only if you go to a darkened corner underneath the seating of the Crocoseum will you then find the tributes to Irwin. A length of tatty builders fence has been installed for fans to place pictures, notes and signed khaki shirts with tributes to the man. It was a interesting it was hidden away in a dank corner, easy to miss if you weren't looking for it.

The main thrust of the zoo seemed to be getting you into the merchandising store where a whole host of stuff was for sale. Tea towls, DVD's and action figures of Steve and Terri were all displayed. Also their children, Ben and Bindi seemed to be marketed just as much as Steve was. The store was flogging kids work out videos, magazines and even a whole children's clothing line based on them. It seems that old line of death being a good career move hasn't been wasted on the management of the zoo.

I left the store with a couple of postcards and a stuffed tiger, but my memory of the place will be the koala hug :-)

Noosa, Long Weekend Festival

The high rises of the gold coast have now faded in to the rear view mirror, as I've landed in Noosa, playground of Brisbanites on the Sunshine Coast of Queensland. Driving up the motorway I passed huge signs for the ubiquitous Australia Zoo, brainchild of the late Steve Irwin. They've now renamed the road to the zoo "Steve Irwin Way". Crikey! I'm not sure if the stingray responsible for his untimely demise will get any roads bequeathed to it though..

Here in Noosa it's the start of a ten day arts, music and literature festival. They're some big names attending, including Clive James, who seems to be knocking out a book every year at the moment. There's also a bloke who's reinterpreted Herman Melvilles Moby Dick and the new Brenda Blethyn film Clubland showing.

In other news it looks like the cross outback trip is off for the moment. I'm currently looking into alternative ways of seeing the vast nothingness of Oz. One option is the iconic India-Pacific Railway. 3 days on a very big train!

An Australian Las Vegas

The gold coast is every bit as tacky and commercial as you think it will be! With a stretch of swamp south of Brisbane to play with, developers have gone crazy wtih casinos, 5 theme parks and endless clubs and restaurants. All catering for the lowest common dollar.

They seem to be working well though as money floods into thisregion faster than any other. I'm currently at the southern end, picturesquely by the airport. The skyline is dominated by cranes with more high rises going up.

This is comepletely different to Byron Bay. And I've worked out that this is what Byron is the alternative of! Ah well, I might as well check out the tack as I'm here.

When in Rome....

An Alternative to what?

Byron Bay used to be a big backpacker mecca as folk left Sydney and made the trek up the coast to Brisbane and the tropical north. Alternative shops sprang up to cater for this motley bunch and the most famous of these was The Arts factory, hidden from the village by a dusty track and the railway line.

In the 7 years since I was last here things have changed. It is not just the preserve of eurotrash and drop-outs. Smart new shopping precincts have been built, smart restaurants on the foreshore have opened up and the legendary Arts Factory has built a bloody day spa at the front of the lodge. The smart set have now come in with a lot of cash and the means to smarten up the place. The cafe down the road listed 15 different varieties when I asked for a cup of tea this morning. Expensive SUV's are as common as campervans on the streets of what now is quite a large town.

I took this up with Dave, our english mechanic who is having to fit a new clutch to the ever more problematic CamperVan. He took over the garage 6 months ago after living in a small village on the South Island of New Zealand for a few years.
"I'm probably one of the few people to move to Byron to drop back in" He cheerfully said as he looked at the engine with increasing concern.

Dropping back in seems to be an easy option from what was a drop-out community in the 80's and 90's. There are almost 300 businesses on the same trading estate as his work shop. All seem to be doing great guns. From cookie bakers to surf board manufacturers, all can make a living as the alternative gets sold back to the mainstream with a side order of carrot cake.

The old magic seems to have been diluted by the ongoing commercialisation of the town, but the tea I can report was lovely.

I bet this looks nice in the summer....

So life on the open road has begun again. After two weeks of sliding back into city life, it's back on the road, except this time I'm driving. The last minute garage tune up to the van has been a life saver especially through today's storms along the east coast. New tyres have stopped us from aqua-planing on a couple of occasions when cross winds have hit.

The east coast of Australia is probably the most known to backpackers who travel here. There are many tour operators and bus companies ferrying people from Sydney through Brisbane up to Cairns. The joy of having a campervan, even one which has a sticky 1st gear and is almost impossible to get into reverse, is that you can go to places off the beaten track.

Seal Rocks is one such place. Lying on a headland about 100km south of Port Macquarie, it's a beautiful little fishing village at the edge of a national park. It boasts one shop, a caravan park and a 19th Century lighthouse. It also has an excellent point break for surfing. Unfortunately for us there was no swell so we couldn't test out the body boards we'd brought along. It's an excellent little find and not for the first time in the Australian winter I've caught myself saying " I bet this place is brilliant in the summer..."

Life in the van is an interesting learning experience. It takes time to get to know what you can and can't do with a vehicle which is almost 30 years old and has done nearly 267,000 kilometers. They'll be a fair few more before we get to Perth. Looking at the map it's almost impossible to comprehend how vast this country is. I think it's about the same as driving from Glasgow to Istanbul. But then I haven't done that journey either.....

Mike and Khaleen's long drive. T -1 day

Are mechanics dodgy the world over? Why can't they give an honest answer posed by someone who knows nothing about engines (ie me) ? I was thinking this as some grease monkey at the corner auto centre was telling us some rubbish about what needed to be done to our campervan. On calling around other garages we knew what he was telling us was wrong and wanted more cash for it. Sensibly we managed to find reverse and drive away.

This week in Sydney myself and ol' Islington drinking buddy Khaleen spent most of our time talking to garages and spending cash in Auto shops, getting our 1978 Toyota Hiace camper van ready to roll across the Country. 1000's of kilometers are ahead of us so it's pretty important that stuff works! It's pretty much sorted now.

In between banging our heads against brick walls I've managed to hook up with some old friends. Chris and Helen moved out here a couple of years back. We met on Wednesday night for a fiercely contested pub quiz at the Kirribilli Hotel on the North Shore. Amazingly we came 2nd, or maybe 3rd. Anyway we won free drinks which was all that mattered!

The next night I managed to meet Serena and Brent who used to be in the much missed Dalston Mansions. It was good to catch up with their lives over a few beers. Good luck with the house hunting!

Anyhoo It's time to go shopping for more essentials for the Campervan; music. An 8gb Ipod is already full but i'm worrying it won't be enough. To the 10 dollar CD store!

Second chance Sydney

"There's nowhere else like it" reads the blurb on tourist info for Sydney. Well this is my second time in Sydney and I'm going to give the copywriters the benefit of the doubt. This is one of the most hyped cities in the world. It's a "destination city". It looks fabulous in photos. When you get here you realise that Sydney is genuinely pleased with itself.

My experience of the city was a little different. Last time I was here in 2000, it rained constantly and the weather matched my mood. Trudging around the city wet through, even if it contains one of the most striking harbours in the world, gets tiresome after a while. Aussie's fabled good humour was somehow lost on the skyscrapers and busy double decker trains. In it's competitiveness to match the best cities of Europe and America, seemed to have taken on their bad points as well.

Well I'm here again and I have friends to look up and a Writers festival to check out. The beaches are inviting if the water is a little cold. It's time to see how good this place really is...

Such is life

What is it with our love affair with outlaws? In Britain there's a long line of such 'folk hero's' such as Dick Turpin, Robin Hood, and even the "We love our mum, we do" pair of loveable sociopaths, the Kray Twins. In America there's a deep regard for Bonnie & Clyde the 1920's bank robbers, and the Wild West always conjours up Billy the Kid. All were deeply unpleasant nasty murderous villains. But gawd bless'em, they're looked upon with affection.

The same seems to apply here in Australia. The most (in)famous of Aussie outlaws is one Ned Kelly. Ned was the first person of European descent to be hung in Australia, at the Old Melbourne Gaol. There's a special place in the hearts of Australians for Ned. His life has been documented in many books, and the unlikely duo of Heath Ledger and Mick Jagger have both played him on screen.

What all these outlaws seem to have in common was a healthy disregard for authority. Ned was loved because he put two fingers up at the colonialists. He was by all accounts not exactly a lovable rogue. He started his criminal career at the tender age of 14 by assaulting a Chinese pig farmer by the interesting name of Ah Fook. A year later there was an incident where he sent a woman Kelly McCormack an 'indecent note that had calves' testicles enclosed'. What a charmer. The ensuing argument ended up with young Ned nicking a horse and getting put in prison for 3 months.

By the time of his execution on 11 November 1880, Ned and the rest of the Kelly Gang had notched up a good line in robbing banks and killing at least three policemen. In the final showdown with police, Ned and his gang held 70 people hostage and wore the now famous homemade armour. The armour thought Ned, was a good idea as he walked out to face the oncoming swathes of police. He failed to realise that as only his torso and head were shielded, he might still be a tinsy bit vulnerable. 28 shots to leg later, he was in custody and thrown in to Jail.

A showmen to the last, Ned got his photo taken whilst in prison and handed it out to family and friends. The celebrity con, long before Police, Camera, Action! was ever invented. His notoriety was such that a crowd of 4,000 had gathered outside the jail on the morning of his hanging. In the souvenir shop of the jail you can by little toy Ned Kelly's replete with mask. Let your children - reenact slaughter, terror and mayhem in the comfort of your own home!

Apparently his last words were "Such is life". Which for a career criminal is not bad when you think about it.

Where 100,000 come to watch England die, again

Fun Fact: The Ashes are a joke, it's official. Go down to the bowels of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, in the museum and you'll find the evidence.

"In affectionate remembrance of English cricket which died at The Oval, 29th August, 1882. Deeply lamented by a large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances, RIP. NB The body will be cremated and the Ashes taken to Australia."

This mock obituary appeared in the Sporting Times penned by one Reg Brookes. It documented the first in the long line of humiliations at the hands of the baggy greens. It was only when Ivo Bligh led a group of English cricketers over to Oz later that year did a group of Melbourne ladies present him with the historic urn. Aussie's eh? They just can't leave it alone...

The MCG, is huge. I don't need Derry my avuncular guide to tell me that. The final improvements which cost nearly AUD 1 billion, have made the stadium a vast concrete cauldron of sport. Most english football grounds capacity can be held just in it's north stand alone. With a 100,000 capacity, it is mindbogglingly huge.

"When they were doing the improvements, the MCC thought about dedicating a section of the ground to the retiring Shane Warne" says Derry the guide.

" Really, what were they going to call it?"

"Oh that's easy, it was to be named 'The one night stand' " Honk!

Walking around the ground you do get a sense of how much Australians, and in particular Melburnians love their sport. The MCG holds cricket in the summer and Aussie Rules in the winter. It's always busy here. From the top tier of the stand you can look out over the park to the Rod Laver Arena where the Open Tennis is held. Just a few kilometers further south is Albert Park which stages the Grand Prix every year and now includes the shiny new Aquatic centre, built for the Commonwealth games.

These folk are sport crazy, and for a population of only 20 million, the sustained success they've managed to create is testament to their dedication. For a young country Sport is an obvious way to forge an identity. As the gleaming statue of Don Bradman attests, if you can beat England while you're at it, so much the better.

Melbourne, the best British city outside Britain?

"Winter's only 10 days away folks!" the cheery perma-tanned newscaster said glibbly from Channel 7's studios.
Don't I know it. Leaden grey skies are forming ominously overhead as I walk from my friend Bernie's house to the tram stop in East St Kilda. I'm wearing layers for the first time in months and my sandals are consigned to the wardrobe. Welcome to off-peak Australia!

Why I chose to come to the best city in Australia just when it's getting cold and wet is beyond me. Last time I was here in 2000, it was the most enjoyable of the cities I visited 'Down Under'. Looking around the centre of town yesterday nothing I saw changed that view.

As I meandered through the central area, I felt immediately at home. The bustling cafe's, the vibrant art scene and even the self important parliament building reminded me of, well, Blighty!. And even more of London and Glasgow. Now if any Melburnians read this and start frothing at the mouth, hold on one second and lets go over a few similarities:

A huge newly renovated South Bank of the river arts complex - check!
Inviting pubs on most corners selling European beer - check!
A grid system with cool little alleyways and tiny covered malls to explore - Glasgow check!
Lot's of folk running from the rain in scarfs and hats - check!
An underground train system which loops around the city and you have no idea how to get anywhere - check!
Important overly caffineated people scurrying to work in Skyscrapers - check!
Cool people hanging out in designer bars in interesting neighbourhoods - check! (Just swap Camden town for St Kilda and Hoxton for Fitzroy).
An obsession with local football teams - check! (except it's aussie rules here, annoyingly the umpires don't dress in butchers overalls anymore).
A culturally significant boat just gone up in flames - ermmm......

See?, case closed. I've kind of avoided the fact that Melbourne also has some fine beaches, parks and seems a lot more laid back than the Big Smoke, but that's just nit picking....

Makeover!

Well if it's good enough for Guardian Unlimited... As i'm in a new year of my life I thought i'd make some changes. So this blog looks a little different than of old. Hopefully it's easier to read and has a clearer layout. It will certainly still have all the top stories and shenanigans as I make my way haphazardly around the globe!.
Cheers M

Blazing Paddles

May 16th comes around but once a year, and so does my birthday. 32 years young! Thanks to all who sent Birthday messages, they were most warmly recieved here on an isolated volcanic rock in the middle of the Pacific.

To celebrate Phil and I rented Sea Kayak's for the day and went paddling. Sounds tranquil doesn't it? A bit like a boat trip on the Serpentine perhaps? Well you'd be wrong. Our 8 mile trip of the west coast of the island took about 5 1/2 hours. Phil who's daily routine consists of going down the gym and then running up mountains with Kobe the dog, set the pace. I, who's daily routine is wondering which pastry to have with my cappucino, lagged some what behind.

The west coast is full of amazing little bays and coves and we headed south to KauHako Bay were we had swam with Dolphins the day after I arrived. No such luck with Dolphins today but we put our snorkelling gear on regardless, and managed to sea some lovely sea turtles instead. Also we met over lunch a Free Diver called Ted. He regularly dives down 120feet unaided and sits down at the bottom of the bay and plays with Dolphins. Ted can hold his breath for around 4 1/2 minutes under water. Pretty amazing stuff.

We paddled back up the coast and went to check out the Captain Cook Monument in Kealakekua Bay. Captain Cook was arguably the best marine explorer the world has ever known. He landed on these shores on the 10th January 1778. He was met by smiling Hawaiins who thought he was a god. Captain Cook who had been at sea for months escaping the caniballs of Fiji and Tahiti did nothing to quell that view. He stocked up on copius supplies before heading to the west coast of America. There is a white obelisk in his honour at the bay now.

The monument also notes his death a year later when on return from not finding the northwest passage he hit a violent storm off the coast of Hawaii and limped into harbour. The locals realising that Cook wasn't a god on a magical floating island, but instead a jumped up imperialist bagging land for good ol' Blighty, decided to turn ugly. A minor dispute over a stolen rowing boat ended up with Cook being clubbed over the head until his was dead. Really it pays not to piss off the locals, they're huge fellas, and they like a fight.

As we paddling back across the bay, past the burial tombs in the cliff face where important Hawaiian warriors are laid to rest Phil's phone rang. As it was safely in the wet bag on the back of his kayak, he turned around to grab it, and promptly capsized! A frenzy of grabbing insued as we sought to get all the gear back out of the ocean. We thought we had everything safely stored but when we landed and went back to the jeep, Phil's oakley shades were nowhere to be seen.

So if you happen to go swimming by the Captain Cook monument and you manage to find them on some passing Barracuda, Phil would be grateful for their return. Mahola.

I am the god of hell fire, and I bring you....

After two hours of serious hiking Phil and I finally reached our goal. The rocks beneath our feet fizzed with heat. Orange streaks started to appear around us as the sun dipped it's head beneath the horizon. Steam plumes rose into the sky. Ominous cracking and hissing noises came from past the nearest boulder. We rounded the corner and saw the first fingers of Magma glowing from the jet black lava field. The temperature emitted was like putting your head into a potter's blast furnace. Slowly it seeped out of the rock, glowing irradescent against the darkening night. Helicopters were buzzing over head past the next ridge where lots of smoke was rising into the sky. This was the very edge of one of the most active volcanoes on earth.

Hawaii volcanoes national park is located on the south east flank of the big island. It's almost unique in the fact that you can drive completely around an active volcano, Kilauea. The rim of the crater is accesible from a circular road called helpfully, the Crater Rim Drive. Lively exhibits at the Jagger Museum situated half way along the road inform visitors of the history of the area.

In Hawaiian mythology Pele the goddess of the volcano fought bitterly with her older sister, Namakaokahai. The fight ended up forming the Hawaiian Islands. Starting in Kauai they fought all the way down the chain of islands until they reached the Big Island. Pele's fire stick created the volcanoes. She lived on Mauna Loa before Namakaokahai covered the crater with snow to quell her fire. Pele then moved to Kilauea Crater where she is meant to live to this very day. Girls eh?

Further around the Crater Rim Drive is the Thurston lava tube. Walking through lush rainforest you can explore a 500 year old lava tube. For geology fans, Lava tubes are when a tunnel is formed when the surface of a lava flow cools and solidifies while the still-molten interior flows through and drains away. Who says you don't learn anything from this blog? The first part of the tunnel is lit, but the fun section is through a small gate when you are plunged into total darkness as the tunnel carries on toward the ocean. It's not a good time for your head torch to pack up. Yikes!

But we were here to see magma. To access the lava field though you have to follow the Chain of Craters road down some 19 miles and 4000 feet below Kilauea. The road used to link up to the town of Pahoa but a massive lava flow in 1983 cut it off. Instead of highway you have a field of lava rock heading straight into the sea creating new land. The Big Island is still growing and this is place it does it.

At the end of the road are many warnings about how dangerous it is to hike out on the the lava field. These aren't idle threats either. Earlier that morning 14 acres of lava shelf had broken off and crashed into the ocean. The area was highly unstable. While hiking fissures and sharp lava rocks are waiting to catch you off guard to trip you up and cut your legs, hands and feet. Phil and I packed our backpacks with lots of water and torches and headed off.


The landscape is near to lunar as is possible on earth. If diving at night is the closest senasation to weightlessness without blasting off into the straosphere, hiking on a lava flow must be the equivelent of walking on the moon. Neil Armstrong might have bounced about but did he ever hike 4 1/2 miles on the newest land on the planet? I think not!. The rocks were jet black and alternated between smooth 'Aa Aa' lava and jagged Pahoehoe. All this meant we had a hard hike ahead of us. But we pressed on heading to see the lava flow from the Pu'u 'O'o vent. It is the most active on Kilauea and when the sun went down we saw why.

Heading back in the dark was also a great challenge. With no natural light apart from the glow of the magma we had to use torches to try and find our way back to safety. Beacons had guided the first part of our journey out, but had abruptly stopped a good two miles from the start of the magma. Trying to find our way back to the beacons in complete darkness was a heady experience. The rule became, don't tread on anything which isn't completely black, as the lighter rock was actually large holes 6 feet deep ready to swallow you up.

At one stage I shouted to Phil " What's that noise?"
He replied " Mike, I think that's the ocean!"
We had been disorientated by the gloom and had ended up only 50 feet from the edge of the lava shelf. The most dangerous point, in an already very dangerous place. We turned around and headed inland sharpish. Finally got back to the road long after dark to see more people just heading out. It was 9:30pm the hike takes a good 5 hour. They were completely mad!

The next day the front page of the local paper ran this story. So that's why the helicopters were buzzing overhead. Eek!

Gone Fishin'

The coastal waters surrounding Hawaii, and in particular the Big Island, contain some of the best game fishing in the world. Expert anglers come from far and wide to take boats out and pit their wits against huge Marlin, Mahi Mahi, Ono, Tuna and for the really brave, Shark. The pier in Kailua Kona sports black and white photos of local fisherman who have caught Marlin in excess of 1000lbs in these shores. There are alot of photos on display.

With that in mind Phil, Kobe the dog & I rose at 4:30am to drive north up the coast to meet Phil's friend Sky, who was going to take us out for a morning's fishing in Kawaihae Bay. This was Sky's third boat and he'd had a lot of success in these waters.

Now first up I have to admit i'm not the world's greatest sailor. When you grow up in the furthest place in the UK from any sea, the options for marine fun are some what limited. Paddling a canoe down the River Leam and trying not to fall off my mountain bike into the Regents canal was close as it got in Warwickshire.

A brisk offshore wind should have alerted me to conditions out in the bay, but as I grasped the boat's wheel in one hand and my first beer of the day in the other, everything was right with the world. Sky hooked up four rods with brightly coloured lures in the shape of small squid. Phil had brought his homemade 'chummer'. It consisted of a plastic water bottle filled with sprats, bloodmeat and other ghastly things likely to attract passing fish to come check us out.

After a couple of trawls in the sheltered waters of the bay without sucess, Sky pointed the boat west and to a buoy 5 miles off the coast. We raced another boat out to this marker. Apparently this was a fine spot to find Ono (not the Japenese artist and band splitter, but a long slender fish). As we pulled up to the spot and threw the lures into the ocean a local fisherman was grapling with a Yellow finned Mahi Mahi. This was a good place.

Circling around the buoy nothing was tugging on our lines. At this point Kobe the dog started to feel unwell. Sheltering behind my back the young pup decided to drool over my trousers. This was not a well dog. The offshore winds and swell had made conditions for our little boat interesting. Well I say interesting, try combining the movement of waltzers at a fun fair with the smell of rotting bloodmeat, that kind of 'interesting'.

Consuming beer on a boat is all well and good, until you see it again as you projectile vomit over the side. The combination of our small boat rocking about and a sick puppy on my lap was not a pleasant one. I suddenly didn't feel too chipper. We still hadn't caught a single fish. This was not in the plan. Grasping on to the side of the boat I tried to fix my view on the shoreline and anything that was not rising and falling all the time. Kobe started whimpering and was too sick to even drink some water. I wasn't too far behind.

Still without a single bite, Sky took pity on us and directed the boat towards Mauna Lani and more sheltered waters. Phil's 'chummer' had not produced it's desired effect and the schools of fish we had hoped to attract were nowhere to be seen. Sky changed the lures but I had the feeling that this wasn't going to be our day. Sky then told me of the time that a 12 foot Tiger shark had swum up by the side of the boat to check him out. I suddenly was scouring the sea for dorsel fins.

A further hour pacing along the quieter waters of the coast still did not produce any fish. For one of the most rich fishing grounds in the world they certainly were awful shy. It's just luck of the draw I guess but my dreams of a Rick Stein type feast with the fresh fish we caught wasn't going to materialise. I was fully concentrating on not trying to vomit again. My trousers were now covered with dog drool.

After four hours we finally pulled in to harbour. I was glad to put my feet back on dry land. Not a single fish had come to say hello and I needed a good lie down. As Sky washed the salt water off the boat he cheerily asked if I would like to go out fishing again before I left for Australia.
"Mmmmm eerrrrr ughhhhh" was all I could rely....