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....

Hiking in 'Lost' Country

For those who follow the maddening TV series 'Lost', repleat with Polar bears, 'others' and fat Americans, will know that the show is shot on location in Hawaii. When the producers were scouting locations in the Pacific for a suitable island that could at once be heart stoppingly beautiful but at the same time mysterious and faintly unnerving, they chose here.

Other islands can boast bountiful reef, searing heat or just fun to get along with cannibals. Here in Hawaii the sheer scope of the environment is mind boggling. 9 out of the earths 10 ecosystems can be found on these islands. The only one they don't have is glacial artic tundra. I'm sure they're working on it.

Go on a drive around the island and you see some dramatic changes in the environment in a very short space of time. On the Kona coast it is rocky lava flow created from the three volcanoes that dominate the sky and shoreline. only a few miles further to the north past the small town of Hawi the wind picks up and scenery changes to lush green. The north end of the island gets a lot more rain than the west coast and it shows in the lush lawns flanking the houses and thick vegitation which looks like second growth rainforest.

With my gracious host Phil and companion Kobe the dog, we hiked down a steep valley to Black Sands beach. Not suprisingly when you get to said beach it's volcanic black sand which greets you. The waves come crashing in and there's a heavy rip tide to catch anyone foolishly enticed in the water for a swim.

Climbing up the other side you get great views of the sheer cliffs which drop 200 feet straight into the raging swell. The waters between the Big Island and Maui are meant to be some of the most difficult in the world with 20 knot currents ripping through the channel. Hapless day sailors are routinely having to be saved from the channel. Not exactly 'Howards Way' here.

After getting a good soaking in a tropical shower, we drove inland and the scenery changed again, to bare moorland and mountain. It's a bit like the Black Mountains in South Wales. Minus the sheep. Wind and rain lashed in to our opensided Jeep as we made our way into the town of Waimea. The moorland fades away into Pasture where many head of cattle are ranched. It's suddenly deep cowboy country.

Stopping off in a bar, panelled with local Koa wood, pictures of herdsmen adorn the walls. The sofa in the hallway is covered with cowhide. It's like Arizona has just been dumped in the middle of the Pacific. I half expected John Wayne (real name Shirley, kids) to walk in wanting to round up a posse to rid the town of some troublesome ne'er do well. At the bar wasn't a local cowhand but a fisherman who regailed us with stories of fishing in a kayak and getting chased by a Tiger Shark.

"I was in a twelve foot kayak, and the shark was about 15 foot" He said grinning over a beer.
"It followed me for a good 45 seconds, I wondered if it liked the taste of plastic or if it wanted me as a meal" He started chuckling.
I started checking to see if he still had all his limbs intact.
"He gave up after a while. You gotta be careful in these waters man. Cos there's stuff in there that wants to eat you"

Gulp! I go fishing tomorrow....

Make a difference, plant a tree!

'Volunteering is the new travel'. This was the message that I got told countless times when I went to the Adventure Travel show in Earls Court at the start of the year. There are many different options for the traveller who wants to show they, y'know, Care. From teaching English in the Sudan, mapping reef in Indonesia to studying turtle hatches on the coast of Costa Rica, there are many schemes being offered.

It seems you can't go travelling these days unless you're willing to get stuck in. But what if you don't have three months to spare to live in a jungle shack? Well here in Hawaii an Forestry organisation cannily called TREE, needed volunteers to go plant 150 trees in celebration of Earth day.

So that's how I found myself fighting off a hangover clambering up a volcanic mountainside in O'oma State Forest, to help plant some Koa trees. About 20 volunteers had turned out early on Saturday morning to help out. We were there to help "reblance the ecosystem" our genial horticulturist Jill Wagner informed us. Koa Trees are native to Hawaii and are fast growing. about 7 - 10 feet in just a couple of years. They were needed to help this section of the forest grow more native species.

Before we could get started though we had a minutes silence 'for the forest' and then Jill read a short poem. Tree Huggers, bless 'em. Once we were in the forest, pick axe at the ready the planting began. I was expecting a jolly little time making easy holes for the trees to go in. What I hadn't realised that this forest is on the slopes of a bloody big Volcano. That means trees needed to find their roots through the volcanic rock. Soon I had a sweat on. This save the planet is harder than it looks! I finally got my first tree in. For some reason I decided to call her "Christine". I hope she has a happy and fruitful life. And the wild goats don't eat her.

We planted 100 Koa trees at 20 foot intervals throughout the forest. We also planted 50 other rare or endangered species to boot. After two hours the group had finished planting. It was a fun thing to do, knowing that long after I've left these islands a product of my visit will still be here (apart from my bar bill).

A musical interlude

"All Reggae is vile" Morrisey once phlegmatically said.
Well he obviously hasn't spent much time living on pacific islands. If the Salford lad had, he would have had to change his mind, or more likely, move to somewhere more depressing. Like LA.

Spend any time on the islands in the Carribean and the Pacific and you'll hear Reggae blasting out from a shack or beachfront bar. It's the soundtrack to many islanders lives. Burning Spear or more likely Bob Marley are very popular. Here on the Big Island of Hawaii, Reggae is the main music being played on the Radio. Either Roots or a Hawaiian version called Jahwaiian.

I was thinking about this while watching a Roots band called Bamboo Station, who hail from the British Virgin Islands. An enthusiastic crowd was at the Mixx bar in Kona to see a pretty straight up and down interpretation of Reggae. It went down well with the predominently white crowd, mostly dressed in hip-hop or surf threads, with a smattering of Rasta's from the local record shop Conscious Riddims.

So what's the appeal? How has local music been pushed out of the spotlight? I've been in Hawaii for 4 days and I've yet to here Polynesian tunes except for a tinny version of the hula coming from a wind up lamp in a tourist shop. It was the same in Belize and Honduras. Local music Garifuna, takes second place to Reggae. White guitar rock might be the predominant force in Europe, but blokes moaning that their girlfriend has just dumped then in Staines has limited appeal when the view is of clear blue seas and coral.

Reggae certainly fits with the more laid back vibe of living on an island in the middle of nowhere. Not that many people have the energy or inclination to go mental to House or trance when it's 35 degrees celcius outside. Unless you're British and it's full moon in Thailand. Reggae is an easy music to superficially listen to whilst sipping on a strawberry daquiri at sunset. "One love" is a simple mantra to follow. Even though the lyrics of many songs are often as brutal and unforgiving as any country or rap tune, heavy bass and keyboards can mask the rough. Is the artists message getting through?

As I asked one girl as I left the Bamboo Station gig. So did you like the music?
"Yeah I had a great time, didn't understand any of it, though"

Go slow: You better Belize it!

Walk off the water taxi at the Front Dock of Caye Caulker and there is a motto imprinted into the floor. "Go slow" It lazily states. Well I thought I'd take up the challenge. After a hectic 29 days with the good ship Amber and the Dragoman crew (big up Team Extreme!). It's time to turn down the volume and relax for a while.

This island off the coast of Belize lies close to one of the most vibrant coral reef in the world. It's home to 100's of species of tropical fish, reef sharks, turtles, sting rays, crocodiles and barracuda. Boats ferry eager divers and snorkellers everyday out to play with the abundent sealife.

On my second evening here, a group of local kids excitedly ran passed me going "shark, shark!" I followed them down to the dock where a very proud fisherman had just landed a 3 meter long Hammerhead shark. He explained to a capitavated audience how he had caught the magnificent beast two miles off the reef. After posing for photos the fisherman went to work with his machete. When the belly was cut open the muscles of the fish were still twitching in response.

There are no cars in this small 4 mile island. Eveyone either scoots along on one gear bikes with no brakes, or uses golf buggies to take their shopping home. These are particularly dangerous when trying to walk home from the pub, as they make no noise and can appear from anywhere!

Mostly though people have the time to chat and hang out. The local population take pride in the fact that nothing is rushed. Even the policemen look like genial uncles rather than brute enforcers of the law. Sitting in a hammock could be the national sport of these islands. I bought a beer from the store earlier and a random local guy cheerily came over and opened it for me in the middle of the street before ambling off down the street. Top man!