simon salter - Salters' travels

Ruminations on religion and model boats in the rain

The MeKong river delta is a messed-up area of alluvial deposits cut through by a myriad of rivers and tributaries. Every bit of land is an island. The rivers are everything. They provide connection, transport and food. Cù Lao Giêng is a lush, peaceful island in the middle of the Tiền River. At about 10 km across the island is famous for its dense mango, jackfruit and pomelo orchards. It also has a big church and boat builders.

We all hopped into the sampan again and left the Mekong Princess at anchor. Over lunch there had been some discussion as to whether our floating palace was a ship or a boat. Usually, the criteria for this is simple. Boats go on ships. So, if your vessel is carrying lifeboats, zodiacs, tenders and the like then it is a ship. The Princess does carry a small workboat on the stern. I suspect its main use is to fetch and carry occasionally. There are no lifeboats or other boats. A second criteria considers seaworthiness. A ship travels offshore and is capable of dealing with a wide range of sea and weather conditions. I think this is the crux of the matter. The Princess is not seaworthy. It is perfectly built for purpose and the conditions it will experience but this only includes rivers. Possibly only the Mekong River. Any serious waves or swell and she would roll around like a drunk teenager. The beautiful French décor would become hopelessly dishevelled. Don’t worry, this will never happen, however, I think this clarifies that the Mekong Princess is a boat rather than a ship.

From the sampan we had a short walk to the two waiting xe lôi. These are small motorbikes with a trailer on the back. Space for 6 passengers. Terrific way to travel along the little roads of the islands of the Mekong Delta. Also known as a motorised cart or motorised rickshaw.

A church and a monastery were built close to each other on the island at about the same time. Late 19^th century. The monastery was built for the French nuns of Saint Paul de Chartres. It was once an important convent and could accommodate more than 1,000 people. This included an orphanage, a school, a hospice and a leprosy centre. Today, there are still a few nuns there but mostly they are in retreat and not talking to anyone.

We arrived in the front yard of the church under an ominously dark and stormy sky. The building is regarded as one of the oldest and most magnificent churches in southern Vietnam. It certainly has some striking Romanesque and Gothic elements. The bell tower, which I completely failed to get a good picture of, is a remarkable 35 m.

Our guide, the wonderfully named Nam (from Vietnam), led us off into the gardens. I think the idea was to visit the cemetery. We had been briefed that it was well kept and picturesque. However, the rain arrived. Proper rain. The sort of rain to soak you to the core in less than 10 seconds. The cemetery was abandoned and we all ran for the church. Inside, we wandered around taking in something of the interior architecture. I am not a big fan of the Catholics, too much to answer for, but they did knock up a few good churches over the years. This one, in particular, is not only a magnificent building but also a remarkable project. Much of the stone and other materials used in its construction was not available locally and was shipped from France.

The priest turned up and invited everyone to take a pew. I have to confess that I did not hear what he said. He was speaking very quietly and I was not dreadfully interested. I was musing on how the Catholics had spent a vast sum of money building the church but the locals roundly rejected the missionary message. They recognised, correctly, that the church was not doing anything help raise them out of poverty or improve their lives in any other way. So, they invented their own form of Buddhism to be cost effective and easily incorporated into their working lives.

The rain had become patchy by the time we were clambering back into the xe lôi. We were each issued with a plastic, disposable rain cloak in case of further deluges. Then we set off to explore the island a little more. We stopped at a shop where Christine, one of our fellow passengers, could buy some new flip-flops. She had broken the strap on the ones she was wearing. Everything was sorted without her having to get off the xe lôi. Nam and the shop keeper ran in and out to find the right size and type for a replacement. A couple of US$ exchanged hands and we were off again.

Final stop of the day was a boat builder. We were arranged on seats under the balcony roof and then shown the skills. Planks were bent by heating them over a charcoal burner. Ribs were hand cut using a type of bow saw. Holes were made using a bow drill. Caulking was done using tree resin. It was all quite interesting but somehow lacked conviction. It felt more like we were being shown how a boat might be built rather than witnessing actual boat building.

At the end of the boat builders garden, past the pomelo trees, was where they launched their boats. This was also a convenient place for our sampan to collect us. I like pomelo. It is not as sharp as grapefruit and has a quite distinctive flavour that reminds me of the sherbet powder I use to eat as a kid. What I really like is pomelo juice and vodka. It makes the most beautifully balanced cocktail and is definitely not for kids. We get pomelo in the UK occasionally but they tend to be quite dry inside and quite tasteless. No good at all for cocktails. I eyed the ripe pomelos and wondered if I could come up with a scheme to get some of them back to the bar tender on the Princess. We were loaded onto the sampan before I got chance to act. As soon as we got back to the river boat, the anchor was pulled up and we set off for Hoa An.

How to create a new religion

In the morning we woke to find ourselves in Vietnam. All the border formalities and inspections completed while we slept. Good morning Vietnam. Same river, different country and everything had changed. Well, the river was similar. Wide, brown, silt laden water. But now it was busy. I mean extremely busy. Ships everywhere. We were on a major highway for barges and floating platforms. Bulk carriers of limestone, chippings, pebbles, gravel and mud were all around us. Big barges discharging into smaller ones. Smaller ones into tiny ones. Cranes lifting stuff between vessels. Dredgers sucking up more sand. The banks were lined with housing and warehouses. Floating homes, somewhere between a houseboat and a cargo boat were all around.

Mid-morning the Mekong Princess dropped anchor near the town of Hong Hgu. We all hopped into a sampan and went off for a look round. A sampan is a traditional, flat-bottomed wooden boat common in Southeast Asia. The word comes from the Cantonese term sāan báan, meaning “three planks,” which describes the simple hull design of a flat bottom joined to two side pieces. The shallow draft and ease of construction makes these small boats ideal for getting around on the river. Larger sampans have an engine and the smaller ones get paddled by someone stood up by the stern.

We went ashore and set off on a short tour of the village. There are only ten of us on a boat made for 30 passengers. I am sure this is a pain, possibly an expensive one, for the owner but it is great for us. For a start, it is quite easy to get to know the rest of the group. I even got to know some names. This is unusual for me; I am embarrassingly terrible at recalling names. It also meant that even a couple of days in we could mostly chat in an easy and relaxed fashion. That was nice.

The tradition here is to bury your parents and other relatives in the front garden. We have seen this ritual before in some south Pacific islands far from here. I find it a slightly odd business. The front gardens here are not especially large. It only takes half a dozen expensive marble tombstones and all the space is taken. Then where will you get buried? I also wondered about moving house. How does having your parents in the front garden affect the resale value of the property? Do you take them with you when you move? Maybe you could do a tomb-swap with owners of the house you are moving into?

The farms generally grow rice and tropical fruit. The typcial arrangement is to have a well-kept presentation garden, with parents, to the road. Then behind the house are the paddy fields for growing rice. Alongside the fields are fruit trees and the occasional cow. The road is sealed but only narrow. Really only suitable for scooters and tuk-tuks. Many families also have fish nets by the side of the river. The nets are everywhere. Simple traps held in place by bamboo poles. There are so many nets that it seems a wonder any fish can every swim more than a couple of hundred metres without being caught.

We wandered down the road and waved at the guys that were eating brunch and toasting us with shots of moonshine. The village is very spread out but at the approximate centre is a general-purpose meeting room. Intricately painted and set amongst some brightly coloured flowers.

Next to this was a small shrine. The majority religion in Vietnam is Buddhism. Our here on the islands of the Mekong Delta, they have their own version of Buddhism designed for farmers. Hòa Hảo is a new religious movement. Typically described either as a syncretistic folk religion or as a sect of Buddhism. Founded in 1939 by Huỳnh Phú Sổ (1920–47), regarded as a saint by his devotees. It is now one of the major religions of Vietnam with several million adherents, mostly in the Mekong Delta. We were shown an altar with pictures of Sổ. Now I would have claimed that there were already far more religions in the world than we need and that creating a new one was just asking for trouble. However, what Sổ did was to make Buddhism more accessible to poor people. Hòa Hảo eschews elaborate rituals and temples, maintains no monastic order and teaches home practice. It also advocates that each devotee can have direct communion with the Buddha. For farmers, this makes the religion enormously more practical to incorporate into their daily lives and work. Be nice to each other and do not spend a fortune, that you can’t afford, on priests, temples and other religious frippery.

The first carpet shop of the day were some weavers. Apparently, there is a long tradition of weaving here although I am not sure why. Most of the required materials need to be brought into the village. Nonetheless, here was an excellent, family run workshop with a wonderful collection of rather ancient looms. Most of them were electric or had been adapted to work that way. One of the looms, takin pride of place at the front, was completely manual. The father fired this up for us and weaved a short length of fabric. They were making cotton goods. Mostly cotton scarves which are commonly used throughout SE Asia. Diane and I were sufficiently impressed that we each bought a scarf. It was nice to see something that was genuinely genuine (and ludicrously cheap).

With that, we all made our way back to the sampan and then back to the ship for lunch.

How to turn a school into torture and killing

The next morning, we were still in Phnom Penh. Everyone got loaded into a coach and taken to a torture centre. The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum was previously known as Security Prison 21 (S-21) when it was used by the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975 until its fall in 1979. An estimated 20,000 people were imprisoned at Tuol Sleng. It was one of 200 torture and execution centres established by the Khmer Rouge and their secret police.

Before being a torture centre, the buildings were the Tuol Svay Prey High School. Construction began in 1975 to adapt the school. The buildings were enclosed in electrified barbed wire, the classrooms converted into tiny prison and torture chambers. All windows were covered with iron bars and barbed wire to prevent escapes and suicides.

At any one time, the prison held between 1,000 and 1,500 prisoners. They were repeatedly tortured and coerced into naming family members and close associates, who were in turn arrested, tortured and killed. Most prisoners at S-21 were held there for two to three months. The torture system was designed to make prisoners confess to whatever crimes they were charged with. Prisoners were routinely beaten and tortured with electric shocks, searing hot metal instruments and hanging. Some prisoners were cut with knives or suffocated with plastic bags. Other methods for generating confessions included pulling out fingernails while pouring alcohol on the wounds, holding prisoners’ heads under water, and the use of waterboarding. There is unmistakable evidence that prisoners were sliced open and had organs removed with no anaesthetic.

Out of an estimated 20,000 people imprisoned at Tuol Sleng, there were only twelve known survivors: seven adults and five children. Today just one, Chum Mey, still lives. We were privileged to meet him. Formerly a motor mechanic, his life was only spared because of his ability to repair sewing machines. He was sat outside one of the buildings quietly talking to a few people and signing copies of his book.

For the first year of S-21’s existence, corpses were buried near the prison. However, by the end of 1976, cadres ran out of burial spaces. Execution centres, the killing fields, were set up outside of Phnom Penh. Here a gang of teenagers killed the prisoners. Typically, because of the scarcity and cost of ammunition, they were battered to death with iron bars, pickaxes, machetes and other makeshift weapons. After the prisoners were executed, the soldiers who had accompanied them from S-21 buried them in mass graves that each held up to 100 bodies.

We were taken to Choeung Ek, a site in Dangkao on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. A former orchard, this is one the 300 killing fields that have been discovered in Cambodia. 9,000 bodies have been exhumed from this site alone. At first glance, the site appears to be some uneven grassland with a few trees and a monument.

On closer inspection, there are some signs and walkways to guide you around the depressions that are the remains of mass burial sites. When executing the children of parents accused of crimes, the Khmer Rouge used a chankiri tree to smash their heads against whilst holding them by their legs. The tree is called the ‘Killing Tree’ and is adorned by hundreds of colourful bracelets. Women were also sometimes subject to rape before being killed. Over 300 people were executed each day some days.

In 1989, a Buddhist stupa was constructed as a memorial to the site. The Choeung Ek stupa contains a tall rectangular glass display containing over 5,000 skulls of people murdered at Choeung Ek. In Khmer Buddhism, death by violent acts are unfavourably viewed as tradition states that the spirit of the dead will continue to linger around the site of their death, preventing reincarnation. As such, many Cambodians refuse to visit the stupa. The stupa contains the remains of crania, mandibles, long bones, and other smaller bones who were initially housed in a wooden memorial.

In 2025, the Choeung Ek site and S-21 were designated as a World Heritage Sites by UNESCO as part of the Cambodian Memorial Sites.

That evening, I think it is fair to say, that everyone was shaken and disturbed by what we had seen. Certainly, my head was awash with questions, mostly beginning with “why”. The depths of depravity that organised groups of people can reach is astounding. History repeats itself through multiple genocides and acts of enormous brutality and cruelty. Ordinary people get draw into performing acts of such wickedness that can only be described as evil. Wikipedia lists over 150 genocides since the 12^th century. Of which four are ongoing. Entire nations and ethnic groups are being systematically hunted down and eradicated. Now. Right now, as you read this.

Fortunately, there were dancing girls on hand to cheer us up. A local orphanage that is sponsored by the river cruise boat company, brought a dance troupe on board in the evening. Three immaculately dressed up girls began with the Apsara dance. This is Cambodia’s iconic classical royal dance, inspired by 9th-century celestial nymph stone carvings at Angkor Wat. It features slow, flowing hand gestures (mudras), arched postures, and gold-threaded traditional attire sewn directly onto the performers. Absolutely entrancing to watch.

The band, consisted of drums, cymbals, vocals and a type of xylophone known as a Roneat Aek. They all sat in one corner while the dancers performed directly in front of us on deck. Some male dancers arrived and then, a little later, some younger performers, dressed as monkeys, joined in. The principal and dance instructor of the orphanage gave us a little talk about their work. Everyone was quite happy to chip in a small donation.

Finally, our small group was invited to join in the dancing. Obviously, the invitation did not include me and anyhow I was needed to take photographs. The evening concluded with another excellent dinner and then, at 2am, we cast off, destined for the border with Vietnam.

Sinking ships, diamonds, Buddhas and a silver floor

Phnom Penh is the capital of Cambodia. Originally settled in the 5^th century, the city functioned briefly as capital after the fall of Angkor Thom in the 15^th century. It regained its capital status during the French colonial era in 1865. The city’s population swelled in the 1960s and 1970s as refugees fled from civil war and American bombing during the Vietnam War. Phnom Penh’s entire population was forcibly evacuated in 1975 by the Khmer Rouge. The people faced persecution, forced labour and genocide. Phnom Penh remained largely uninhabited during the Democratic Kampuchea era until Vietnam-backed forces took the city in 1979. The city was reconstructed and infrastructure improved in the modern era with the support of international investment and aid. By 2009, it was home to more than 2 million people, approximately 14% of the Cambodian population.

The short trip down the river had been quite interesting. People were living all along the riverbank. Usually in buildings on stilts. There were a few cargo barges. Some of these were so heavily laden that they looked to be sinking.

We tied up near another river cruise boat on a pier with an enormous patch of water hyacinth. We had seen quite a lot of this floating along in little rafts on the river. One of the fastest-growing plants known, water hyacinth reproduces primarily by way of runners or stolons, which eventually form daughter plants. Each plant additionally can produce thousands of seeds each year, and these seeds can remain viable for more than 28 years. Common water hyacinths are vigorous growers, and mats can double in size in one to two weeks. In terms of plant count rather than size, they are said to multiply by more than a hundredfold in number in a matter of 23 days. Water hyacinth originates in South America but it has proven to be a very effective invasive species. It is now widely established in North America, Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa, and New Zealand. It has become an important and pernicious invasive species across wide areas although in many cases it was originally introduced with good intentions.

We went off on a tour to see the Royale Palace and the Silver Pagoda. To get there, we travelled by cyclo – a traditional pedal-powered rickshaw used today mostly for slow-paced tourist sightseeing. This was fun although we were rubbing knees with the scooters and cars all running around with very little consideration of the rules of the road. I felt a bit sorry for my guy. He clearly got the short straw by having a propel a larger person like me. Pedalling Diane would have been only half as much work. He seemed cheerful enough fortunately.

The Royal Palace is a complex of several elaborate buildings. They are used as the royal residence and also for many official functions. The buildings are lovely. Lots of bright colours. Little statues. Well-kept gardens. We were not allowed in many of the buildings. We could look inside the Throne Hall from outside. This is where the king’s confidants, generals and royal officials once carried out their duties. It is still in use today as a place for religious and royal ceremonies (such as coronations and royal weddings) as well as a meeting place for guests of the King. We were not allowed to take any photographs.

I was also banned from taking photographs in the Silver Pagoda. This houses many national treasures such as gold and jewelled Buddha statues. Notable was a small crystal Buddha – the “Emerald Buddha” of Cambodia. Also, a near-life-size, Maitreya Buddha encrusted with 9,584 diamonds and dressed in royal regalia. The Silver Pagoda is inlaid with more than 5,000 silver tiles. We could inspect some of these. They were in a terrible state. It seemed to me that silver, a soft and very reactive metal, is completely unsuitable for floor tiles.

We hopped back onto the cyclos and headed for the National Museum. I may have mentioned before that Diane and I are not big museum people. It had already been a long hot day and this was starting to get to both of us. I tried, hard, to summon some enthusiasm but mostly failed. There were a few interesting exhibits but it was all a bit dry subject wise and very hot temperature wise. We ended up standing outside, close to the entrance, where there was a large cooling fan.

Eventually we where whisked back to our ship on the cyclos. Here we could cool down, have a shower and get ready for dinner. The food on the ship was excellent and I found myself really enjoying the evenings.

A blessing, some dyeing, more teaching and an illegal bird

From Siem Reap it was a five-hour drive to where we joined our ship. The drive was not too bad. The coach was comfortable with just three seats to a row. We had a couple of stops on the way where we could visit “Happy rooms”. Our guide talked for a while but there is only so much you can say about rice fields. Eventually, we arrived in Kampong Cham where we were introduced to the Mekong Princess. This is a custom built luxury river boat. Two passenger decks. A bar. A restaurant and cabins for 30 people. At the mandatory safety briefing in the bar, we discovered that there were only 10 of us for this trip. The ship is run by Eric. He is French and has been doing this job for a decade or so. Friendly and informative. Once everything safety related had been explained the ship set sail and we all went for lunch.

We had been given a free upgrade. Presumably because there were so few people on board. So, we had a lovely room near the front of the ship. It was decked out like a luxury French chateau. We are quite used to living in cabins but this was hugely different to a sea-going ship. Much more like a floating hotel room. At sea, you need to protect from the movement of the ship. Not on a river boat. Here nothing was fastened down. There were pot plants on shelves and free-standing bottles on a desk. Things that would not last two minutes at sea. It was all very comfortable so we got settled in and enjoyed watching the countryside slide past.

By 5pm, we had arrived at Angkor Ban, our first stop. We were tied up by some sort of temple. There was not much to see and I don’t think we even had an option to go ashore. We were given a talk about what to expect the following day after which came diner and then bed. We were going to be up at 6am.

6am was the theme for the week. Up at 6am and out by 8am. It makes sense when the weather is so hot. Next day we started off with a blessing. A water blessing from a Buddhist monk in the temple that we were moored next to. It was quite fun although none of us had a clue about what was said and chanted. We each had water flicked on us. I made sure to keep my mouth shut. Then the monk tied a red plaited woollen string tied around the wrist of those that wanted it.

Suitably blessed we went off for a guided tour of the village. Naturally this brought us to the first carpet shop. Remember the carpet shop principle? We discovered in Morrocco that if you ever got shown anywhere you would always end up in a carpet shop drinking mint tea. Elsewhere, it might not be carpets. It might be jewellery, souvenirs, hats, whatever. It will however be made for tourists and presented to you as authentic if a little overpriced. In the village of Angkor Ban the carpet shops sold clothing. Lightweight cotton shirts, trousers and scarves. Many houses had rolled out a small rack containing their goods. The material was woven and dyed in the village. I think it was mostly cotton, which I assume came in from elsewhere. I did not see any bales of raw cotton, just large loops of yarn. We were shown a small group of people busy dying the yarn. There were also some looms set up for weaving.

We arrived at a school. Education is a bit of a haphazard affair in Cambodia. Especially out in the country away from the cities. Here we were introduced to the teacher who set up and ran the school. We also met the twenty or so students. Everything seemed to operate on a voluntary basis. The teacher was not paid very much. The students could not afford to pay much. Conditions were a bit rudimentary but they were giving it a go. Despite the general level of poverty, it appeared to be well understood that the solution to many of their problems was to educate the children. The kids were all very friendly and very keen to practise their English. Each tourist was allocated two or three children and everyone settled down in the classroom to work on their English.

I am really not particularly good at this sort of thing. Far too self-conscious around small children and haven’t a clue where to start when it comes to teaching. I took it on myself to make a photographic record of the lesson for the benefit of the other. Then I went off and found a hummingbird to photograph. This turned out to be an olive-backed sunbird.

An hour or so later, we were all waving goodbye to the school and we continued our tour of the village. There was a covered area used as a market. Here the fresh fruit, vegetables and other produce for the day was on display. Across the road was a petrol station. Most people here either walk or cycle. Motorised transport is predominantly in the form of scooters. One per family. You rarely see more than the parents and three children on a single scooter. The petrol station was set up to just service scooters. Petrol came in re-purposed one litre glass bottles displayed on a rack and kept out of the sunshine.

Running around the houses were several types of duck and goose. I also spotted some caged birds. There was a Myna bird. Commonly kept as pets because of their ability to mimic an extraordinarily wide range of sounds. There was also some sort of hawk which seemed thoroughly unhappy in a cage that was far too small. Keeping this sort of bird is illegal in most countries. Google tells me: It is generally illegal to keep a caged hawk in Vietnam. Nearly all native birds of prey, including hawks, eagles, and falcons, are protected under Vietnamese wildlife conservation laws and international CITES agreements. Keeping them without specialized government permits—which are virtually never granted to private pet owners—violates national regulations and risks severe fines or criminal penalties.

We were all back on board by lunchtime when we set sail for Phnom Penh.

Many steps, many temples, a dinosaur and danger from monkeys

A little over a thousand years ago the Khmer Empire straddled what is now Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar, Laos and a big lump of China. The site of Angkor Thom is the empire’s most notable legacy. There was an immense city here that included such majestic temples as Angkor Wat. The city was a product of immense wealth, the seat of great power and a centre for art, architecture and other aesthetic achievements. Up to a million people lived here – one of the most populous cities of the medieval world. Satellite imaging has revealed that Angkor Thom‘s elaborate water management network was the most extensive pre-industrial urban complex in the world.

It all started to go wrong in the 14^th century. Probably a combination of events that included the usual social and political upheavals of a myriad of waring factions. An ecological failure caused by a series of droughts and floods driven by erratic monsoons which led to an infrastructure breakdown. Even a plague has been suggested. The dominant religion changed from Hinduism to Buddhism. The jungle moved in and as is the way of great empires, it all fell apart and mostly disappeared.

Today, Angkor Wat and some other temples remain. Still the largest religious complex in the world and still an active Buddhist temple. It was made a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1992 and became one of the world’s great tourist attractions. In 1993, there were 7,650 visitors. By 2018 this had risen to 2.6 million. We thought we had better go and have a look.

It was hot. It is always hot in Cambodia. It was also sunny. That was a change from the previous couple of days. It was a long day. We did a lot of walking. visited a lot of temples. I can only remember the names of some of them. We had a local guide. He made things a lot easier. Not just showing us around but also explaining stuff as we went. I am sure we would not have seen half as much without him.

We started off with the big one. Angkor Wat. There were a lot of people there. A lot of cameras. A lot of selfies. A lot of that very Asian thing where she stands there making odd hand gestures and he takes lots of photographs. To take photographs of the temple without many people in the way was quite difficult.

We discovered that there is a lot of detail in the temple. Just about every surface is covered in carvings. Some decorative, some of religious significance and many depicting epic stories and histories. Our guide described some of the more interesting points but we had to skip over the vast majority of what we saw.

Much of the temple is very run down. Some of the entry ticket price is used for restoration. More work is done by teams sponsored by different countries. China is spending a lot of money on the place. Even with all of this, the scale of the work is daunting. There is also the inevitable tension between preservation and renovation. Do you simply stop things getting worse or do you try and rebuild some of the former glory?

At the very centre of Angkor Wat is a structure several floors high. You can climb up here via some extraordinarily steep steps. The view is terrific and we could catch a bit of a breeze. This was very welcome as the climb up had made me sufficiently hot as to feel quite uncomfortable. Diane flaked out with the heat when we were in Papua New Guinea, so I was keeping a close eye on her.

The next temple was Ta Prohm. Also known as the “Tomb Raider Temple”. Angelina Jolie was here, albeit briefly, filming some of the iconic scenes in “Lara Croft: Tomb Raider” (2001). The temple was built without mortar. Since it was abandoned, many trees have taken root and are now in the process of systematically demolishing the temple. Looks fantastic. The combination of tree roots and ancient masonry is remarkably picturesque and evocative. The problem now, is that if left alone, the trees will dismantle every last wall. Nobody advocates killing the trees so the renovation plan needs to be exceptionally long term. New trees are plucked from the walls when they are barely formed saplings. The existing trees will die eventually. When each one finally gives up the ghost, it will be removed and the walls reinstated. The trees can last hundreds of years. Only a small part of the lifetime of the temple but still long enough that some patience will be required.

We walked on and passed a temple that was being rebuilt. Like many of the structures here it looked less like a temple and more like a pile of stones. Some clever people have been using modern technology to help put it back together. First of all, each stone is assigned a number. Then they are all scanned using a 3D scanner. A Lidar or similar is used so the stones do not need to be moved. Finally, a computer builds a 3D model of how the temple may have looked. It uses the positions and shapes of the stones. It considers the architecture of adjoining and contempory buildings. All clever stuff. The final output is a complete plan showing where each stone needs to go and which stones are missing or broken.

Our guide pointed out a small carving that looked like a dinosaur. Nobody knew about dinosaurs back in the 12th century. Fossils had not been identified or even known about. So how come a picture of a stegosaurus? Proof of aliens, I expect.

Our last temple was the Bayon Temple. At one time this must have been magnificent. Multiple towers each carved with faces looking in the cardinal directions. Sadly, all looking a bit battered now. There were also many wall carvings and a rather nice Buddha statue. Our guide thought this was probably only a couple of hundred years old. Inside the temple was a bit of a labyrinth. I was not really sure of the purpose of so many small tunnels. But we did find a corner with some bats in.

The South Gate to the ancient walled city of Angkor Thom is known locally as Tonle Om. It is the best-preserved and most famous entrance located to the north of Angkor Wat. So, I have no idea why it is called the South Gate. It is 23 m high and features more massive stone faces along with a bridge lined by gods and demon. The figures on the bridge hold a giant serpent, a naga, to depict the Hindu creation myth of churning the cosmic ocean. We paused here briefly for some photographs while dodging traffic. The road goes straight through the middle of the gate.

That was the end of a long, sweltering day. Really fascinating and wonderful way to get all your steps in. Next day we were to set off on a river cruise.

Trying new herbs and playing with rats in Siem Reap

We flew into Siem Reap a day earlier than planned. Our original flight was cancelled so we had a day less in Kuala Lumpur and an extra day in Cambodia. I did not mind. KL was not my favourite and instead we got to eat great food and we got to play with rats.

First big impression of Siem Reap was the rain. Big rain. We are here in the middle of the rainy season and it can seriously rain. Not all the time, but occasionally it is just like a warm shower. I don’t mean a gentle shower of rain, I mean standing unde r the shower in your bathroom. It is way too warm for wearing jackets, so you just get wet. Not really much of a problem. With the heat, you will soon dry off again. I tend to keep a waterproof bag handy that I can tuck my camera into.

In the morning, we went off on a food tasting tour. Us, a gay couple and Jared our guide. This turned out to be brilliant way to spend a few hours. The lads were Americans currently living in Japan. Jared also had his origins in the US but went native many years ago and lives in Cambodia now.

We started off with a tuk-tuk ride to the market. Here, we disappeared into a warren of small streets and passages lined with market stalls. The sheer variety of food up for sale was remarkable. All the basic fruit and vegetables were there. Plus, tropical varieties like jack fruit, durian, dragon fruit and rambutan. Citrus fruits were represented by little, intense limes and pomelos. Lot of fresh herbs. A type of broad lead coriander, parsley and many that I could not recognise. Mushrooms were there in abundance. Many different types. Big fat ones, long thin ones, oyster mushrooms and some that were new to me. The only obvious fungal omission were boring field mushrooms which are often the only type of flowering mycelium you can get in the UK.

There was a lot of fresh meat that I tried not to get too close to. The flies alone should have been enough to put you off. Fish was in abundance. Much of it so fresh that it was still flapping or wriggling. Crabs were firmly tied up. Eels were confined to a bucket. Snails were in a big aluminium tray. Other fish was laid out on ice and yet more dried and cut into weird shapes. The insects were dead. Dead and dried. Crunchy crickets and all your favourite entomological treats. Another stall was sack after sack of dried plant parts. Mushrooms, leaves, flowers, bark and other parts. These were medicines. Generally used to make a herbal tea guaranteed to cure your ailments.

Tucked in between the racks of ingredients, were people cooking up food. Little cakes, noodles and snacks of every possibly variety. We found ourselves jammed into a dark corner where we were served rich, slightly sweet coffee and a dish of wheat noodles with fried rice cakes.

Two meals later, we headed out into the countryside. Our destination was a village famed for making rice noodles. Here an elderly pair of sisters make noodles every day. They start at 3 am every morning. Rice noodles are made from rice, obviously and hard work. Maybe a little salt. The rice is crushed, soaked, fermented, boiled, crushed some more, kneaded and finally extruded through a die into boiling water. The result, a thin, light noodle, is delicious. We tried our hand at some of the processes. Everything done by hand using simple tools of wood and stone. Everything heated and cooked over a wood fire. Finally, we tried some freshly made noodles and then went off to another village where they use the noodles to make lunch.

Fresh is an important thing in Cambodia. Many people do not have fridges. Many people do not even have electricity. Fresh food is the normal. Market first thing in the morning for fresh ingredients and then everything is cooked and served fresh.

We stopped off at a little cake factory. Here a group of women were making steamed buns out of palm fruit. They had a small production line going that began with extracting the pulp from the fruit. The pulp was mixed with flour and the dough poured into little cups made of leaves. Banana leaves maybe. These then went into wood fired steam ovens. A squirt of condensed milk went into the centre of each cooked bun and they were finally packed into small boxes, also made of leaves.

Our final meal of the trip sort of brought together much of what we had seen and learnt. Rice noodles, many types of vegetables and herbs and fish for the others. All washed down with some local beer. I felt like I had eaten several days’ worth of food and it was only lunchtime. Great experience and thoroughly recommended. The company is called Siem Reap Food Tours. They also gave us a list of good restaurants in Siem Reap which proved to be worth its weight in gold.

After a short nap back at the hotel, we were ready to go and see the rats. Cambodia is one of the most mine-affected countries in the world. Hundreds of thousands of landmines and other explosives still litter the countryside, presenting a major humanitarian and socioeconomic challenge. With over 40,000 amputees Cambodia has the highest ratio of mine amputees per capita in the world. The Apopo organisation, based in Siem Reap, trains rats, dogs and people with the skills to clear landmines. The rats are light enough not set off an anti-personnel mine. They are trained to use their sense of smell to find the explosives. We watched a demonstration by Amanda the rat of how to find mines. She was really quite brilliant at her job. We felt quite privileged to be about to hold her later. These are Tanzanian long-tailed pouch rats. They go through a long training program and are looked after incredibly well. I found it quite wonderful for humans and animals to be working together like this.

Towering skyscrapers and crowded caves in Kuala Lumpur

Kuala Lumpur is the capital of Malaysia. It is big and bustling. Two million people in one hot, sweaty concrete jungle of a city. I visited KL once before on business and did not like it much then. It is hard to like anywhere in the tropics when you must wear a business suit. My impressions this time remained similar. It is always hot, typically over 30°C and usually humid. There is an awful lot of reinforced concrete and glass. The airport is an hour’s drive from the city centre but only if you are lucky. Took us over twice that in the mid-afternoon traffic jam. We had had time for a short stroll around as night fell. A restaurant selling freshly made pasta right next to our hotel made a pleasant end to the day.

Kuala Lumpur is the sixth most visited city in the world, with 8.9 million tourists per year. It hosts many cultural and sporting events. It is also one of the world’s major centres of MICE tourism. Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions tourism refers to a specific type of business tourism in which organized groups are convened for professional, commercial, or networking purposes. The MICE sector is a fundamental component of the “events industry” and includes a wide range of activities such as conferences, congresses, conventions, forums, summits, exhibitions and trade shows, seminars, symposiums, workshops, product launches, board meetings and shareholder meetings, executive retreats and incentive programs, recognition events, celebrations of corporate or organizational milestones, and team-building initiatives. The city houses three of the world’s ten largest shopping malls. In short, it is a place I would rather avoid; however, we wanted to take a break between flights.

In the morning, we took a half day tour to visit a few places. First up was the Batu Caves. The cave complex contains many Hindu temples, the most popular of which is a shrine dedicated to Murugan. There is a ludicrously big statue of him by the steps up to the cave temple. We clambered up the brightly coloured steps and were genuinely impressed by the temple inside.

It was very busy though. I think it is always busy here. We arrived back at the bottom of the steps as just the same time as the rain. It can really rain here. Kuala Lumpur commonly floods because the drainage development has not kept up with the rest of the city development. We got soaked. We didn’t get cold. There was no drop in temperature at all. Not long after the rain stopped, we were dry again.

Next came the Thean Hou Temple. One of the largest Buddhist temples in Asia. Built by the Chinese 40 years ago and dedicated to the Chinese sea goddess, Mazu. It is rather magnificent and very colourful. Dragons everywhere.

We got taken to the China Town area. There is an enormous outdoor market here which appears to specialise in a wide range of foods and an even wider range of counterfeit goods. Bags, perfumes, watches and all the other stuff found in the upmarket malls close to here – but at a fraction of the price. It was interesting to look around. But only for a short while.

The final stop of our tour was the landmark Petronas Towers. These two towers dominate the skyline at 450 m. From 1998 to 2004, they were to the tallest buildings in the world. Since then, a succession of taller buildings has sprung up. The Burg Khalifi is almost twice as tall. We grabbed a photo and then wandered off to find dinner. On the way, we found an impressive collection of supercars parked outside a mall. While waiting for Diane, I looked at the Gucci shop. One shop, about twenty handbags and no price tags. It is a strange way to do business. Gucci bags can easily cost up to £4,000 and then it still will not be lightweight, waterproof, easy to clean or secure. We enjoyed a lovely Indian meal and then retired to the hotel to prepare ourselves for leaving in the morning.

How macaques learn thievery and bartering plus a short rant

From Brisbane we flew to Cairns to see Tim and Lorraine – Diane’s cousin. Unfortunately, Tim was in hospital for an operation. We met up with Lorraine in the evening for a pleasant meal in central Cairns. The weather here is lovely just now. Warm during the day and cool at night. A far cry from the humid heat in December when we were last here. We had booked a trip into the jungle for the next day but it was canceled at the last moment. We had a quiet day and Tim got discharged. This gave us chance for a catch up and the next evening Lorraine invited us round for dinner. A terrific curry with sweet potatoes. Tim has since needed to be readmitted but hopefully is going to work out fine.

We pressed on and flew to Darwin. Back to Darwin. This is where we first arrived in Australia. In a sense we have made a circular trip although we have yet to visit Western Australia. Nothing much happened in Darwin. We were only there a couple of nights and it was disturbingly hot. We had a stroll down to the beach to watch the sunset. Next day we flew to Bali.

We flew with Jetstar. A budget airline that are sticklers for hand luggage weight. Everything with a battery has to go in your hand luggage. Fragile things like cameras and camera lenses are best in your hand luggage. For me that is a total of around 12 kg. Usually this is not a problem. Jetstar only allow 7 kg per person and they weigh your hand luggage before you board. There is no option to pay for more hand luggage. So I ended up putting things in my checked luggage that really do not belong there – like camera lenses. Why they are so pernickety about this is beyond me. Everyone could carry much more than this and still be within the safe limits of the overhead lockers. It is not about the capacity of the aircraft – they would need to start charging based on body weight if that were the case. So I remain annoyed and try to avoid using them.

Previously, in Bali, we found ourselves in a beautiful but rather isolated hotel in the Ubud area. This time, we headed out to Uluwatu in the south-west for a change of scenery. It was indeed hugely different. Far less jungle and far more people. We rented a villa for a couple of days. This was essentially a single room building with ensuite and a kitchenette. It was genuinely nice. A small pool in the compact garden and a hammock that Diane enjoyed. We had to be careful not to leave anything outside because otherwise the monkeys would have it.

First day there, we went to visit the Uluwatu temple. This is a Balinese Hindu temple and is the only Balinese Sea Temple. Established since at least the 11^th century, it is popular with tourists and monkeys. The temple covers a large area and commands some terrific view out to sea. We spent most of the afternoon wandering around. When we first entered, we were given a stern warning about the monkeys and warned to keeps things in our bags. An old woman with a stick offered to come along to protect us.

The temple is inhabited by long-tailed macaques, notorious for snatching visitors’ belongings such as flip-flops, cameras and sunglasses. They can usually be persuaded into ransoming the items for fruit, nuts, or candies. Of course, this only encourages them to steal more.

Scientists and experts on primate behaviour have conducted studies on the monkeys. They learn the bartering behaviour. This trade is passed down to the young offspring. New groups of macaque monkeys introduced into the area quickly adapt and learn the new skill from the locals.

Next day, we went for a drive around. For a modest amount, you can hire a driver for a few hours to show you some interesting places. We started off looking at some of the beaches. The area is popular for surfing. There are many beaches but they all tend to be overlooked by cliffs. Access can be a bit tricky. First place we visited was a complete warren of narrow footways, steps and paths between bars and restaurants all packed onto the cliffside. It was quite remarkable. We did not actually find a way onto the beach but we did explore umpteen bars and other places all linked by tiny passages cut into the rock.

The next beach was a single steep set of steps down to the beach. This went through a crack in the cliff which was rather exciting. The steps were covered in sand which made them slippery. The beach itself was small and absolutely packed. Surfers, sunbathers, swimmers, people selling ice cream, surf schools, umbrella hire, cold drinks and everything else you might want on a sunny beach. People were laid out all over the place. There were more buttocks on display than I think I have ever seen. The sea was full of surfers. Sand was everywhere. Sticking to people’s feet, in their hair, in every bag, in the ice cream, everywhere. It was far too hot for us. Just the idea of lying in the grit while being baked gave me a headache. We had a brief look around and headed back up the steep stairway.

Final call for the day was a visit to the Garuda Wisnu Kencana (GWK) statue in the GWK park. This is the largest statue in Indonesia. 121 m tall. Took 28 years and $100m to build. Completed in 2018. It is impressive and obviously can be seen from far away. We took a tram from the carpark to entrance. Here we bought tickets and rode a small buggy up to the top of the hill where the statue is. After a while gazing at the remarkably large statue, we had a look inside. The statue sits on top of a multi-story building. For a fee, you can have a guided tour. We did not have enough time so Diane invested in ice cream instead.

Walking back down seemed like the sensible option, given how hot it was. We had a gentle and enjoyable stroll back through the gardens. There were a few lesser statues and a very pretty water garden.

Next day we flew to Kuala Lumpur. The start of the journey was a bit tricky. Diane was convinced that our taxi driver was falling asleep. It was my responsibility to stop him. I have no idea how that was going to work. Fortunately, nothing happened. We arrived at the airport intact although the Princess was a little frazzled. There were some good views from the aircraft. First, we flew north over Bali where we could see the big volcano. The we headed north-west. We crossed the equator without incident, eventually flying over Singapore and alongside the Malacca straits. On the approach to Kuala Lumpur, I was struck by how much industry there is in this part of Malaysia. Endless factories and warehouse units for miles. In places I could spot the odd open cast mine and some forests but mostly it was just rows and rows of buildings.

Highs and lows of feeding the rainbow lorikeets

We finally arrived in Brisbane at the end of our motorhome trip. Six weeks and nearly 6,000 km from setting off in Adelaide. That is not a hardcore trip or a massive distance. It was great fun and gave us a good taste of this part of Australia. Now we had arrived to stay with our friends Bruce and Anita for a few days. We have travelled with them and stayed with them before. They are very understanding when it comes to using their house as a base for a few days. When you are travelling long term you need to deal with things as you go. It is immensely helpful to have somewhere you can send a few things, buy stuff off Amazon and that sort of thing.

Our first job was to clear out the motorhome and then return it. We had been doing quite a lot of cooking in the motorhome. We had accumulated a pile of unused cooking stuff. Salt, herbs, flour, tinned tomatoes, dried lentils and so on. This all got donated to Anita’s kitchen. There was also a pile of bedding and a pillow. Princess likes her pillow and the one supplied with the motorhome was too thin, so we had bought a suitable one that she could put her silk travelling pillowcase on. We have not flown for over five months and it is remarkable how much rubbish you can accumulate. The next leg of our journey is many flights. We need to get back down to strictly 23 kg + 7 kg or less. This means getting a bit ruthless with our luggage.

Bruce and Anita live in a lovely part of Brisbane that backs onto a nature reserve. When we weren’t arguing over to keep, we could take walks in the woodlands close to the house. There are many wallabies and kangaroos here. And a wide variety of birds that you can hear but can be difficult to spot. Bruce took us to where some Curlew’s were living right next to the road.

After a day of sorting, we felt we had done enough and Bruce suggested we all go for a drive round. We went out to the coast. A place called Point Danger. Named by Captain Cook. It is a headland on the boundary between New South Wales and Queensland. The Captain Cook Memorial Light is here. A working lighthouse which is the first lighthouse, in the world, to use a laser light. It did not work very well. The laser was installed in 1972 and although it was massively powerful, the beam was too narrow. In a sense, the light was too precise and this made it difficult for ships to spot. A couple of year later, it was replaced by a conventional electric lamp.

This is also a good place to spot whales. As usual we did not see any although the girl in the café said there were some around earlier. The day after we were there was a big whaling event. A humpback calf was born just offshore. Something that has rarely been seen. We missed all that but we did watch the surfers for a while. This is a famous surfing area. We also watched a dredger at work. Big storms move the sand away from the beach. So, they dredge it up and move it back. The beach is big business and needs to stay in the correct place.

We drove north along the beach to the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary. This is fairly compact sanctuary. Closer to a zoo than a wildlife park. First thing we saw were some koalas. We know better than to call them bears. I imagine these are always a crowd pleaser in zoos. As we arrived, they were moving around quite a lot. Koalas can sleep up to 20 hours a day. To see one moving at all can be quite rare. For a mammal, the koala has a disproportionately small brain. They only eat eucalyptus leaves which are toxic. It is strange existence but they seem quite happy.

We walked through a couple of bird houses. There were some cockatiels, some parrots and a few Gang-gang parakeets. This was easy bird photography. They sit still. I take a picture. Everyone happy.

The koalas may have been happy but the bush-tailed rock wallaby looked thoroughly unhappy. Well, he looked unhappy to me. We had been warned to look out for this type of wallaby when we were out at Kings Canyon but we never saw even a hint of one. I imagined the wallaby to be wishing he was out hopping around the rocks and over the mountains.

Further on were the crocodiles. I doubt these creatures have emotions, just an on-off switch. They just lie there perfectly still and quiet while thinking about killing.

At 4pm it was lorikeet feeding time. The zoo does this every day. It is open to the public at the entrance to the zoo. For a small contribution, you can have a metal tray which will be topped up with a honey and milk mixture. Same time, every day, lorikeets from all around the city know to come here for feeding. Great flocks of them swooping round in a rainbow coloured murmuration. There was a great flock of people too, all holding metal bowls and eventually, there was a great coming together of people and birds. Bruce and Diane both had bowls but it was not going well. For twenty minutes they had both been lifting their bowls skywards in the hope of an avian visitation. Nothing was happening. They were becoming despondent. What was going wrong? Elsewhere, people were being mugged by masses of multi-coloured parrots. In desperation, they moved to a fresh location and refreshed the honey and milk in their bowls. This did the trick. First one bird, then another, then more. I think the lorikeets needed to decide if Bruce and Diane were dangerous or not. Once declared safe, they were in.

We rounded off the day with a visit to Currumbin Beach as the sun was setting. From here we had a good view of the main business district of downtown Brisbane. I photographed a Jetstar aircraft passing overhead – little realising that they were soon to become my least favourite budget airline.

Next day, with our radically lighter luggage, we were flying to Cairns.

Beaches and tracks and getting lost

We took a steady drive up the coast of New South Wales. It was relaxed and easy. We drove for a few hours each day, found a campsite and then went for a short wander around. Usually on a beach.

The day we left John and Sally in Sydney, we drove up the main road, got bored and followed a small road that ran close to the shore. We had hoped for a sea view but unfortunately the ocean, although close, was completely invisible behind a large wall of bushes. We did, however, find a ferry. This was quite exciting – we enjoy a ferry. This particular one was another small, cable ferry that took us from the wonderfully named Mungo Brush to Bombah Point. Shortly after this we arrived at the Sandbar Beach Campsite. This was indeed situated on a sandbar and appeared to be exclusively populated by surfers in VW camper vans. We tried to fit in as best we could. A kookaburra, sitting on an old gum tree, laughed at us.

In the evening, we strolled down to the beach and watched the surf for a while. We also spotted a Sea Eagle. I initially thought it was a White-tailed Sea Eagle and was wondering about its connection with the birds we had seen in the Norwegian Fjords and off Scotland. It was however a White-bellied Sea Eagle which is smaller, has a white belly and is native to Australia. Occasionally, I think I am becoming a birder, but I am not. Fortunately, I have Google to help. Back at the campsite we lit a campfire to demonstrate to the surfer dudes what cool hipsters we were.

Next day, smelling faintly of woodsmoke, we continued our odyssey northwards. After several more failed attempts at finding an interesting coast road we ended up at Port Macquarie. Here we used another little ferry to cross the Hastings River and continue north close to the ocean. The road became a dirt track and we were forced to turn back. We could manage a few easy tracks in the van (although we were not supposed to) but this was looking like AWD territory. Instead, we followed a larger, sealed road that was a bit of a long way around. This road had roadworks. A lot of roadworks. Roadworks with diversions along dirt tracks and over rough, slow surfaces. We might have been as well with the original dirt track.

By the evening, we arrived at another campsite just off the beach. Our evening was a pleasant walk down to some rocks and back.

In the morning, we attempted to drive inland. Perhaps we could approach Brisbane through some hills to the south rather than along the busy coast. Our road turned into a single-track road and then a dirt track. I was thinking, next time, we will hire a 4×4. The question now, was how far do we try and get along the track before we capitulate to our lack of traction. We were crossing a small range of hills. If it rained now, I suspect the van’s basic road tyres would just start spinning in the mud. Over the hill and down into a valley where we rejoined a tarmac road.

With that problem solved, we had to deal with the next one. We were fast running out of fuel. This is not like me. I usually make sure we refill as soon as the tank is half empty. The previous day we had driven a long diversion and today we had not seen any signs of habitation before plunging off into the hills. Now we were on less than quarter of a tank and out in the middle of nowhere. The landscape was lovely. Rolling hills, green forests, fields ready to be grazed but no people. Just the occasional farmhouse. We pressed on and arrived at a small village. After a little poking around we found a small, unmanned diesel pump that. 24-hour automated service. I confidently tackled it with my favourite debit card and failed. “Service unavailable”. What does that mean? I tried several more times and was forced to admit defeat.

From Google maps, the next village looked larger and was only a couple of score kilometres away. We set off. Two kilometres later, we came across a sign saying the road was closed further ahead. There were also some details about times and dates. Some cars drove past us. Maybe we could get far enough to find fuel. Twenty minutes later, we were looking at a road blocked by cones with some diggers working just beyond. A very friendly workman came over and explained to us that the road really was closed. The friendliness of Austrians continues to impress me. Elsewhere the workmen would be more likely to ignore you or, just possibly, give you a pitying glance while shaking their head.

Back at the very small, very old and very battered looking diesel pump, I tried and failed again. In a fit of desperation, I tried my Amex card and much to my surprise, it worked. I only have an Amex card because, by using it, I can maintain a reasonable credit score. If your credit score is low, as mine was, it can cause problems with all sorts of things where your financial reliability is important – such as hiring a car. I rarely use it because many places don’t accept it. Nonetheless, here we were, in a completely obscure place and it was saving us. “Always carry at least two different types of card” might be good travel advice.

Now that we were back on the road, I didn’t want to risk the dirt track over the hills again. We could not continue inland because of the roadworks. The only remaining direction was south-east, back to the coast and to just about where we had set off from in the morning. We chose a different campsite and had a short walk to look at some fruit bats hanging in trees.

Our penultimate day in the motorhome saw us following the main road north but with distractions. There are signposted “Tourist Routes” that loop off from the M1 and take you on the path more scenic. This is a promising idea and we followed several such loops. We found some small, interesting roads. We passed some lakes, followed a river and drove through some pleasant countryside. We also got lost a couple of times. Occasionally we would arrive at a junction where there were no signs for the tourist route. I needed to guess so I just went off down the road that looked most interesting. This is possibly not the best algorithm. Eventually we were parked up at a campsite by the beach, again. We took an evening stroll to look at the waves. Saw a few surfers and a few fishermen and enjoyed our last evening camping for a while.

Tomorrow we would arrive in Brisbane.

An unexpected tour of Sydney, remarkable birds and great wine

Sydney, population ~6m, is the capital of New South Wales. The largest and most expensive city in Australia. Here you can find Botany Bay. Historically famous for Captain Cook’s first landing and later for the establishment of a penal colony. Also, the Sydney Harbour Bridge, famous for being extremely big. And the Sydney Opera House, famous for looking a bit weird.

We arrived late afternoon and met up with our friends the lovely Sally and John. We first met this adventurous couple in Antarctica where they were some of the brave few people doing kayaking trips while the rest of us were safe in the Zodiac RHIBs. They graciously invited us to stay a few days and we were happy to escape the cosy confines of our little motorhome for a short break.

Our original plan had been to skip past Sydney. Tackling a large city without prior knowledge can be a bit daunting. We figured that we could drive over the bridge, photograph the opera and be done with it. John and Sally, long term Sydney residents, were dismissive of this notion and suggested a day trip to the city under Sally’s guidance would be more appropriate. They were, of course, completely correct. The next day, we set off, on foot, for the train station.

It was a leisurely ride into town on the train. The first thing I noticed on alighting was a car that had been smashed by a boulder. Apparently, the large rock was dropped intentionally, from a tall crane, some 22 years ago. I could see no go reason for this so I assumed, correctly, that it was art.

We wandered around the city centre for a while taking in some of the architecture and getting a feel for the place. The Sydney Central Business District (CBD) has more high-rise buildings that anywhere else in Australia. I was certainly impressed as to how much glass was on display.

We were struck by how clean the city was. Australia in general is an exceptionally clean place. Hardly any rubbish lying around. A stark contrast from many other countries and wonderful to see. Often a major city attracts litter and other garbage along with beggars and buildings in a state of disrepair. Sydney however feels cared for and that makes visiting comfortable and more enjoyable.

We boarded a local ferry to Manly. This took us right across the bay. A lovely, relaxed way to take in sights of the city. From the boat we could see all the major landmarks, large cruise ship, several other ferries, a few islands and open water beyond the bay. In Manly, we took a short walk to the beach and watched apprentice surfers for a while. Over coffee, Sally explained how she met John here. Then we wandered back to the ferry terminal and got a boat to the opera house. Along the way, I spotted an Australian Navy aircraft carrier.

The Sydney Harbour Bridge is right next to the opera house. We could clearly see bridge walkers. People who have paid to put on harnesses and walk right over the top of the steel bridge arch. I image the views are great but it is quite a trip and takes over three hours.

We looked around the opera house. I was a little surprised to find that the roof looks quite different from close by. To be honest, I had never studied the roof before but I always had an impression of it being big and white. While it is certainly big, the tiles are off-white and quite intricately patterned. The remarkable design was from a Danish architect, Jørn Utzon. While he undoubtably came up with one of the most striking buildings in the world, the story of how it was built by 1973 is fascinating and not without problems. Ultimately, the project came in at ten years late and 1,400% over budget.

The Sydney Opera House opened the way for the immensely complex geometries of some modern architecture. The design was one of the first examples of the use of computer-aided design to design complex shapes. The design of the roof was tested on scale models in wind tunnels to establish the pressure distribution around the roof shape in high winds. The design is also one of the first in the world to use araldite to glue precast structural elements together. The air-conditioning plant, the largest in Australia at the time, uses the innovative idea of harnessing the harbour water to create a water-cooled heat pump system that is still in operation today.

There are a set of steps from the opera house down into the harbour. These are closed off by some steel railings but you will often see crowds of tourists packed around them. The reason is a wild long-nosed fur seal that often rests on the steps and has become quite famous. He is called Benny as in “Benny on the steps” – a pun on the title of an Elton John song and a fine example of Australian humour.

We did not get to see inside the opera house but I think, should we ever be back this way, that it would be great to attend a performance there.

We wandered off around the botanical gardens. The garden is quite remarkable. All the more so for being in a city centre. The weather had been steadily improving throughout the day. Earlier it was quite blustery and raining occasionally. As we pottered around the plants, the sun came out making it pleasantly warm.

In an older part of the city, we came across some older architecture housing the very expensive shops. We also found a statue of Queen Victoria looking thoroughly unamused.

Next day, we all drove out to Lake Macquarie. John and Sally have a very comfortable holiday home here. It makes a beautiful contrast to Sydney. Quiet, natural and peaceful. Lake Macquarie is not really a lake. It is Australia’s largest permanent saltwater coastal lagoon, located in the Hunter Region about 150 km north of Sydney. We spent most of the day walking around the lake.

The lake is popular for sailing, powerboating, water skiing, fishing and swimming. Fortunately, this does not seem to disturb the wildlife too much and there was an abundance of birds. We walked out to a spit of land where there was an Osprey nest. On the way we saw a black swan and some pelicans. There was also a few Noisy Miner Birds, a native Australian honeyeater. And a few small Little Pied Cormorants. The osprey nest appeared empty, initially. We waited a while and then saw a couple of small heads looking out. Then we spotted the parents. Possibly coming back from a fishing trip. All was well.

Elsewhere around the lake, we saw the inevitable Laughing Kookaburras, some Egrets and many Magpie Larks. There was also a few groups of Rainbow Lorikeet. These are the most fantastically brightly coloured parrots.

The Hunter valley is not just home to some remarkable countryside but it is also the location of many great vineyards. It would have been churlish to leave without exploring a few of these so this is what occupied us on our last day. Unfortunately, the weather came in cool and rainy again. Nonetheless, we dressed warmly – “rugged up” is the Australian expression. Has nothing to do with rugs. And we had a wonderful, relaxed time exploring the countryside and drinking wine. Two of my favourite things to do.

How to catch a bandit and when to fit snow chains

From Melbourne, we decided to head up into the mountains for a few days. We had heard mention of snowy mountains and ski areas. Might be worth a look. We set off in a vaguely north-east direction. First point of interest was the Powers Lookout. A rocky escarpment high above the King Valley. The hideout of Harry Power, a notorious, gentleman bushranger of the 1860s who reputedly befriended a young Ned Kelly before leading him into a life of crime. Power hid up here for 8 years but was eventually caught. For all the bandit history, the views were terrific.

Next day, we arrived in Harrietville and discovered a barrier across the road. We needed snow chains to go any further. There was no snow. The weather was warm and sunny. Barely a cloud in the sky but nonetheless we needed snow chains. The helpful woman at the barrier directed us to a shop to hire chains for the day. I asked if she got a kickback from the chain shop but she just smiled at me. At the shop they were happy to provide chains. They did not bother to show us how to fit them because we were not going to use them. In fact, we would drop them off at their sister shop in Omeo in about two hours. Back at the barrier, we got waved through and off we went up the mountain.

The drive up to Hothem Heights was uneventful. We eventually found some snow on the hillside but not very much off it. Hothem is a ski resort that is upside down. The resort is at the top of the hill and the slopes all go down from it. We spotted one working chair lift and many that were clearly closed because of lack of snow on the pistes. This should be about the snowiest time of the year but it is not working out very well.

On the way down, we saw a wombat. We had noticed several dead wombats by the roadside but this one was alive. I stopped the van and was lucky enough to get a couple of pictures before it wandered off into the undergrowth. Wombats are nocturnal, so I was particularly fortunate to see one at all. The presence of wombats can be verified by their distinctive square faeces. They are the only animal in the world that deposits curiously cubical crap. Their primary defence is their toughened rear hide. Most of the posterior is made of cartilage. It has no tail. When attacked, wombats dive into a tunnel, using their rumps to block a pursuing attacker. Urban legend has it that wombats sometimes allow an intruder to force its head over the wombat’s back so that it can use its powerful legs to crush the skull of the predator against the roof of the tunnel. A group of wombats is called a wisdom.

It was getting late in the afternoon. We pulled into the only campsite for miles around and were appalled to be charged three times the normal amount to stay overnight. The woman explained that this was peak season although the mostly deserted campsite appeared to contradict this. In the evening, we walked down to the river and saw a platypus swimming around. This was at least some compensation for the exorbitant campsite fees. We watched it for a good hour. Swimming about in an area of slack water. Diving every few minutes to eat weed. Unfortunately, we never got a really unobstructed view of the platypus but we had at least seen one.

Next day, we headed north again, towards the mountains again. This time we were completely thwarted by the snow chain restrictions. Every road appeared to require that we had chains. The was still no snow on the road. Or any of the surrounding hills. There was no obvious place to hire chains so although the restriction was not enforced by barriers, we chose to adhere to the rules. The consequences in terms of insurance and the van rental agreement were dire if anything bad happened. We ended up going through the Namadgi National Park. The road was a bit rough in places but it was a lovely drive. To avoid Canberra, we made a sharp righthand turn and set off for the coast.

The next day, while driving north towards Jarvis Bay, we saw a sign for the Jerrawangala Lookout. It was approaching lunchtime, so we set off in the hope of finding somewhere nice to stop. The sign did not actually state how far it was to the lookout. The road became very narrow with many potholes. It turned steeply up a hillside and became more of a dirt track. The track twisted and wriggled its way up onto an exposed ridge and then became a very narrow path between trees. Eventually, we arrived at a small car park with picnic tables. A thin path and walkway took us to the lookout. It was spectacular and worth the half-hour drive up the hill.

In the evening we camped on the south side of Jarvis Bay. It was a pleasant, warm evening. At the far side of the bay we could see a lighthouse built on top of some magnificent cliffs basking in the evening sun. This looked like a good place to visit. We could even spend some time on top of the cliffs looking for whales. At this time of year, whales are travelling north from Antarctica to the breeding areas in warmer seas. Next day, we headed in the general direction of the cliffs. We found a signpost for the Point Perpendicular Lighthouse and then we arrived at a military checkpoint for a weapons range. This was a bit unexpected but we talked to guard anyhow. I was anticipating that we would be turned around however, we were allowed past. We needed to leave our details and promise to stay on the track. A few kilometres further on, we arrived at the lighthouse. This is a lovely building that was an active lighthouse for a hundred years. In 1993 it was retired in favour of a modern, unmanned light, on a metal framework. We met some climbers. They were abseiling off the top of the cliffs and then climbing back up again. They reported seeing whales close to the cliffs an hour earlier. We spent some time wandering around the cliff tops and staring out to sea but saw nothing.

Further north, we stopped for the night and walked up to a whale watching platform. This was a nicely built circular platform on the hillside. Unfortunately, the trees had grown and it was almost impossible to spot the ocean beyond them.

The day before arriving in Sydney, we followed some spectacular coast roads including the Sea Cliff Bridge. This juts out from the cliff so that you are driving directly above the waves. Many people were parked around here to take photographs. The road then climbed steeply up to the Royal National Park and directly beyond that, was Sydney.

High earning little blue fairy penguins

We finally arrived in Melbourne. Diane has a cousin that lives here. Michael. And his wife Debbie. They have not met Diane for thirty years or so. I think she was a little bit nervous. Will we all like each other? Can we even get on for a few days? There was no need to worry. Michael has just retired. He is laid back in a very Australian fashion. Friendly and easy going. Debbie flits around more nervously but is very cheerful and chatty. The rest of the afternoon was mostly about catching up on family affairs. Diane has a lot of relatives and carefully keeps tabs on them all. There was a lot to be discussed. I kept up as best I could.

Next day, we all went to Phillip Island. This is a popular tourist area to the south of Melbourne, known for its beautiful beaches, wildlife experiences, relaxed seaside atmosphere and the penguin parade. It is also where Michael and Debbie have a holiday home. We took in a few sights on the way and stopped to eat chips by the bridge onto the island. The holiday home was lovely. A spacious and comfortable three-bedroom bungalow. We stopped there briefly and then set off to look around the island.

First stop was The Nobbies. This is the extreme south-west of the island where there are some lookout points and boardwalks. Here we got some excellent views of the rugged coastline, crashing waves and sea birds. We also spotted a tiny Blue Penguin in its burrow. Also known as fairy Penguins or Little Penguins. Most of the Fairy Penguins are out at sea during the day. They come back in the evening and walk up the beach to their burrows. The penguin parade. Visitors come to sit in a specially built viewing area to watch the birds coming home. We worked our way around the coast and along a dirt road. A wallaby was spotted along with several Cape Barren geese.

Then we arrived at the Penguin Parade. Diane and I had been considering buying tickets for a seat. That was until we saw the horrific magnitude of the commercialisation. Several thousand people come here every evening. They are bussed in from the mainland. A process which regularly causes traffic jams. A variety of options are available. None of them cheap. For $34 you get a basic seat where you will be looking past many people to see a small penguin. For $130 you get to visit a smaller, less crowded beach. All 2,000+tickets are regularly sold out and if we had really wanted to be there on a Saturday night we should have bought tickets days ago. I found the whole thing rather disturbing. A few people on the beach watching the penguins arrive is one thing. This mass tourist event was something else altogether. The colony supports about 32,000 little penguins so, rough calculation, each penguin earns $1,350 per year. I would cheer the penguins if they decided to go ashore elsewhere.

Next day we continued our exploration of Phillip Island. We saw Black Swans, Purple Swamphens and more Cape Barren Geese with chicks. We visited the $50m Penguin Parade visitor centre. You are allowed in for free during the day. Here there are souvenir shops, a café and some displays. Everything was very modern, well presented and paid for by the little blue penguins. Finally, we popped in at the Phillip Island Grand Prix circuit. This dates back to 1928 and has a venerable history of motorcycle and car races. Currently, it gets used for the MotoGP race series. Back at the house, we admired their three boats and Michael showed us his collection of fishing rods. He has at least 20 rods with reels. Possibly twice as many. I know nothing of fishing and have no idea why he would need so many – but we were impressed.

On Monday, Debbie had to go to work. Michael, clearly enjoying his retirement, took us on a tour of Melbourne city centre. It was a warm, sunny day with a clear blue sky to highlight the towering, glass clad buildings. These appear to compete to be the tallest or to have the weirdest design.

Nestled in between these modern architectural constructs are a few much older buildings. The Flinders Street Railway Station dates back to 1854. The current building, completed in 1909, is a cultural icon of Melbourne. The distinctive and eclectic Edwardian architecture, prominent dome, arched entrance, tower and clocks is one of the city’s most recognisable landmarks. Its grand, somewhat exotic character led to the popular idea that the design was actually intended for Mumbai’s Victoria Terminus and vice versa. Myth has it that the designs got accidentally swapped in the post. Right next to the station is a very nice old pub where we stopped for a drink. We looked at the river, looked at an old shopping mall with extremely expensive shops and we stopped for another drink at the casino. In the evening, Michael, who use to be a professional chef, knocked up a terrific meal with egg-fried rice and baked sweet potatoes.

Next morning, we thanked Michael and Debbie for their wonderful hospitality and pointed our little motorhome towards Sydney.

The amazing jumping seals and how we missed the twelve apostles

We were driving along the south coast of Australia. The weather was not too great and it rained a lot. We were taking our time and investigating interesting places as we went along. Just past Robe, we came across a path to a bird watching platform. As we parked up, we spotted some sort of Kite. This was looking hopeful. A twenty-minute walk brought us to the platform in the middle of a swamp. The rain had become a steady drizzle. A black swan met us. It looked a bit soggy. Drizzle in a swamp will do this to you. The swan is the national symbol of Western Australia. This one seemed unimpressed at being so famous and drifted off into the reeds.

Further down the road we came across a sign to a seal colony. The drizzle had eased and was more of a strong mist. We followed an interesting path with view across a large bay. This brought us, eventually, to a small boat house where seals were playing. Mostly just juvenile seals and very engrossed in their play. It was amazing to watch and very uplifting to see what an enjoyable time they were having. Just offshore a bunch of seals appeared to be having a jumping competition. Flinging themselves out of the water and high into the air. Often launching themselves clear of the sea. Closer to us, on a small partially collapsed jetty was another game. The seals were fighting over prime spot on the jetty. Taking turns to knock each other off. Then posing, momentarily, before being pushed off by another aspirant. We left smiling. It was truly amazing to observe such an expression of the joy of life.

We were heading to Melbourne but still had plenty of time so we took a diversion. We drove due north up to a mountain range in the Grampians National Park. It was interesting to see some hills and made a change from staring out at the sea for hours. Diane love seascapes and would always choose the coast road. I prefer mountains and really don’t understand why people get so misty eyed about a few waves. In this instance we might have been as well staying near the beach. Mist covered the mountains with a solid grey blanket. The road climbed up and down but we could not really see the hills. It was more that we just got a sense they were there.

After a bit of aimless wandering, we arrived at Halls Gap and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by tourists. Since leaving Kangaroo Island we had seen very few people. The campsites had mostly been empty. Halls Gap is a popular area and today was the first day of the school holidays. Suddenly, we were on a packed campsite. Typical of a British bank holiday, the rain was more enthusiastic than ever. The campsite was partially flooded and much of the grassy areas were reduced to mud. Children were running around everywhere. Muddy, wet, excited children. I could imagine how pleased their parents would be when they arrived back at the small family tent all smiling and filthy.

Next day we headed back to the coast. Dropping out of the hills we finally left the mist and the worst of the rain behind us and arrived at the start of the Great Ocean Road. This is actually a war memorial. Built by returned soldiers between 1919 and 1932, it is dedicated to soldiers killed during World War I. It is the world’s largest, or at least, longest, war memorial and a massive tourist attraction. Much of the road hugs the coastline along the Surf Coast and the Shipwreck Coast. It provides extensive views over Bass Strait and the Southern Ocean.

Right from the start, the Great Ocean Road was one of the world’s most scenic drives. Especially if you like staring, misty eyed, at waves. It was also particularly challenging. In places, just a rough, single lane track cut precipitously into the cliff face. These days, it is an easy and safe drive unless you get too engaged with the view and forget to look where you are going.

We visited a petrified forest. I was intrigued. How does a tree turn to stone? It is possible although exceedingly rare. The organic tree cells get replaced by stone via a mineralisation process. This is not what we found. What we were looking at were some rock formations that looked a little as if they had been trees once. In reality, they were created by limestone dissolving in rainwater and filtering through a porous rock layer underneath. A little like the formation of stalagmites. The tree shapes are then exposed by erosion.

Further along the coast we came across London Bridge and the Twelve Apostles. These are all stacks. Towers of rock sticking out of the sea. The remains of coastal erosion. The coast here is steep, sandstone cliffs. Very rugged and pretty. The Twelve Apostles, in particular, are a bit of a tourist draw. We very nearly stopped but then saw the car park, the coaches and the crowds. Driving just a little way further we could follow a small track to the cliff edge. Here we got a fantastic view of the cliffs and had the place to ourselves.

Mostly birds but also a giant Lobster

Leaving Kangaroo Island behind us, we set off for Melbourne. There was plenty of time. We wanted to explore a little of Australia on the way.

First, we needed to do a long loop inland around Lake Alexandria. This was pleasant, uneventful driving. Quiet roads through rolling hills and woodlands. Coming back to the coast, the land became a lot flatter. We walked on the beach and watched some sea birds. We also spotted some cormorants and honeyeater on a fence.

The next couple of days were quiet. Not many people around. Not much happening. Quiet days and quiet evenings. The sea and the birds always ensured there was something to look at. We camped by a lake and got visited by Purple Swamphens. Funny looking birds with the most enormous feet. No doubt these are handy for walking across floating swamp plants. I found myself watching them carefully to see how they avoided tripping over their own toes. This was more interesting that it sounds.

Pelicans provided the interest for one particularly good sunset. This was another camp by a lake where we spent the evening watching Pelicans silhouetted by a fantastic red and orange backdrop. There seemed to be a lot of Pelicans around. Next day, we found even more pelicans. At lunch, we stopped at a delightful place overlooking an inland lake. I took a short walk around and stumbled across the biggest flock of pelicans I have ever seen. A hundred or more all tightly rafted together in the centre of the lake. As best I could tell they were feeding. Possibly they had just stumbled on a large school of fish. It was all over in a few minutes. They split up and flew off in different directions.

That evening, we arrived in Kingston, home of Larry the Lobster. Now we knew that we were really getting to see the sights of Australia.

Many interesting animals and a few squished ones

We stayed a few days in an apartment in Adelaide before collecting our motorhome. A Mercedes Sprinter conversion that made the cabin on the Ghan feel spacious. It is, however, well suited to our purposes. The van is little bigger than some cars. This type of vehicles often find use as delivery vans. I have become a white van man. We can tackle cities, use ordinary car parks and generally get around quite easily. If we do not feel like sleeping in the motorhome we can easily park up at a motel or similar. It offers a lot of advantages even if you do not sleep in it every night. For a start, you always have a backup. If you cannot find somewhere to stay then you can sleep in the van. Means you can be a bit more adventurous in exploring because you do not need to ensure finding accommodation for every night. You also have somewhere to cook or make a brew wherever you go. And you have a toilet and shower in case of emergencies. The bed can be perfect for a mid-afternoon power-nap if you start feeling sleepy.

We headed north to the Barossa Valley, a famous wine making area. It rained. It rained as we drove there and it rained when we arrived. It rained all day so the next day, when it was still raining, we pushed off and headed further north.

Ended up in a curious one-horse town called Morgan on the Murray River. One general store, a campsite, a few houses, two bars and a paddle steamer. There was also a ferry across the river. We had passed from the lush, temperate grasslands of Barossa into a much wilder, semi-desert area in just a couple of hours. The change was quite remarkable. Lovely place to spend a day. The 1907 paddle steamer, called Canally, had been dug out of the mud in 1998 and restored by a group of local enthusiasts. They were clearly enormously proud of it and quite justifiably. We took the ferry and explored a nature reserve on the other side of the river.

Back to Barossa, where it was still raining. We spent a night there, visited a vineyard and then headed for Kangaroo Island. We hopped onto the massively over-priced ferry first thing in the morning.

First thing that struck us about Kangaroo Island was how many dead kangaroos there were. Dozens of them. Roadkill. Incredibly sad to see so many carcasses scattered along the roadside. Dead Kangaroo Island would probably not go so well with the tourist board.
We stopped to climb a series of metal steps up Prospect Hill. It was a good climb but well worth the effort for the view. On the way down, I spotted our first live kangaroo of Kangaroo Island way off in the distance, hopping across a field. It occurred to me that kangaroos might be presented as proof for the non-existence of God. The reasoning would involve something about God’s creatures and the necessity for intelligent design. However, something as ridiculous as a kangaroo that bounces as a means of locomotion, defies any notion of intelligent design and could only come about through a totally random phenomenon like evolution.

We spotted a sign for a seal colony. Following this, we came to a car park where we could pay to go and visit the seals. We bought tickets because we quite like seals. I spotted a lovely blue Superb Fairywren hopping around. The weather was cool and sunny. There were very few people about. Ideal seal visiting conditions. A series of wooden walkways brought us down to the beach. There were a few juvenile seals here. Most of the adults were off on extended fishing trips. The disaffected youths had been left behind and were larking around in the surf. It was a pleasant way to spend an hour.

On the road back we saw an echidna. This was particularly exciting. We had only seen them in zoos before. Funny little creatures, sometimes called Spiny Anteaters, that snuffle around in the leaf litter eating ants and termites. This one appeared unconcerned by us and I managed to grab a couple of photographs before it slunk off into the undergrowth. Echidnas are monotremes. Mammals that lay eggs. Male echidnas have a four headed penis. It is 7 cm long and covered in penile spines. In the mating season, a single female may be followed by a “train” of up to ten males. Youngest at the end of the line. Later, when the egg hatches, the baby echidna, a puggle, remains in its mother’s pouch for 50 days feeding from the pores of two milk patches. The mother builds a nursery burrow once the puggle starts to develop spines. Here the puggle lives, being fed every few days, for seven months until weaned. Random evolution for the win.

Late afternoon, we rolled up at a campsite at the far side of the island. This proved to be a bit of a wildlife hotspot. Kangaroos and Cape Barren Geese roamed the camping area. Koalas watched us from the trees and many types of small bird skipped between the bushes. We stayed here a couple of nights. This gave me plenty of time to wander around and attempt to photograph the wildlife.

Koalas are another fascinating and strange example of Aussie wildlife. They spend a lot of time up a gum tree doing nothing. From a distance, they often appear like a beach ball in a furry sack stuck in the tree branches. I have yet to see one move more than just the gentle stretch of an arm. They sleep, very contentedly, in a tree. If I tried this then I am pretty sure I would doze off and fall out. They must have special types of muscles that they can lock off.

Next day was a bit rainy, windy and occasionally, stormy. We continued our exploration of Kangaroo Island. It is all very well organized for touristing. Drive a while, spot a brown sign, pull into the car park, follow the boardwalks. This technique brought us to a wide variety of viewpoints, strange looking rocks, light houses, caves and a large grain silo with a kangaroo painted on it.
In the evening, we camped close to the ferry terminal. Fairy penguins come ashore here. We went out just after nightfall for a look round but failed to spot any.

How to mine opals with the troglodytes of Coober Pedy

The train noises lulled me to sleep as the movement of the carriage gently rocked the bed. Unfortunately, the motion had the opposite effect on my Princess. Despite ear plugs and a glass of port, she barely got a wink. It would have suited both of us if the train did not move at night. Although I find sleeping on a moving train fun, I would have preferred to have seen the country that we were travelling through. For me, one of the joys of train travel is that it joins places up in my mind. An aircraft trip is completely dislocating. A jolt. Travelling overland you can see the gradual changes in vegetation, the terrain, even the weather. You can experience how far it is from one place to another. You feel the journey and you comprehend how distant locations relate to each other. I mentioned this to Diane but I suspect there was a royal hating for my cheerfulness after a good night’s sleep.

Breakfast was particularly good. A Moroccan dish involving eggs baked in a rich and spicy tomato sauce served with toasted flatbread. Diane opted for a poached egg and was rather disgruntled with the soggy thing on white toast that arrived. Princess is very particular about her eggs. She likes them extraordinarily well done. Cooked to death, would be a fair description. Any part of the egg that has not solidified she refers to as slime. Between the slimy egg and the lack of sleep it seemed best for me to not talk at all. I watched the scrubby bushes go past outside while Diane concentrated on her cup of tea. Fortunately, the long silence was terminated by our arrival at the wonderfully named Coober Pedy. This is an opal mining town in the middle of nowhere and definitely an interesting place. For a start, its primary inhabitants are troglodytes.

Before getting into town, we were coached out to an area called “The Breakaways”. The first thing that struck me about this rather desolate area was, Wow, this looks like the Badlands from Mad Max. Turns out these genuinely are the Badlands. Mad Max was filmed here and the locals are very proud of the fact. One of the proud local guides took us on a short walk around. He showed us some of the flora and the explained the desert scenery with its mesas and buttes. An hour or so later we got back to the coaches where cold champagne was being served. This improved the mood of my Princess no end.

On the way into Coober Pedy we spotted a black snake crossing the road. Not sure what type it was but I liked to think it was deadly. Google thinks it may be a red-bellied black snake. Not very deadly but could still spoil your day. We also passed many, many areas of dirt mounds a few metres high. These were mine shafts. Narrow and not very deep. Drilled to test for opals. Most of them were abandoned. There were hundreds of these. Possibly thousands. Almost no cultivation, no fields, no vegetation. But, in every direction, as far as you could see, mine shafts.

We arrived in town and the coach turned off the road and into a trench. A big, deep trench. Three times the height of the coach. We disembarked at the bottom and stepped through a metal doorway into a mine. A long slope brought us down into the belly of the beast where we found tables laid for lunch. We were in a deep old mine that had been taken over by the Ghan company. Here they had built, in the complex of tunnels, a large restaurant and a sort of demonstration mine.

First came lunch. Diane and I got salad and falafel. We always get salad and falafel. It is quite tasty, don’t complain. There was plenty of wine. Everyone else got served slabs of black, strangely smelling meat. I imagined that this was some weird alien creature that had been hunted down in the Badlands by bald headed warriors wielding streel spears and riding customised dune buggies. It was served with potatoes and carrots.

After lunch, we went mining. Not real mining, obviously, although we were in a genuine mine so there was a level of authenticity. We looked at some tunnels, hammered lumps of dirt from the wall and checked for opals using a UV light. I found a display of explosives but was not allowed to use them. Eventually, having mined long enough to be quite sure that it was not the life for us, we went off to look at some houses. The first miners discovered that, deep in the mines, the temperature remained blissfully cool. Outside it can hit 40°C on a regular basis. Underground, a nice 20°C or so. No air-conditioning required. So, they dug a mine and lived in it and carried on mining. Eventually, they would have a spacious, comfortable house insulated from the climate above. Perfectly dark for sleeping at night and no chance of being disturbed by noise from your neighbours (unless they were letting off explosives). In the morning, after breakfast, you would go to work by simply walking down the stairs from your living room.

This troglodytic existence continues to this day. Most people live underground. Coober Pedy, on the surface, looks a little like a deserted quarry. If it were not for what appears to be a deserted spaceship, there would no evidence of people at all.

Back at the Ghan, we were greeted with snacks and more drinks. This made for a very pleasant interlude before finally boarding the train for the last leg. Tomorrow morning we would arrive in Adelaide after travelling through the night again.

The Ghan, 28 carriages long.

How to make more emus

Last thing to do at Uluru was to watch the sunrise. Diane had another lie-in while I fussed around in the dark trying to avoid making too much noise. There were few people on the coach. Sunrise at Uluru was losing out to a lazy morning and a relaxed breakfast. Still, we few were resolved. Uluru has a reputation for being photogenic in the early morning.

We drove out to the sunrise viewing area. I kid you not, there is a place dedicated to watching the sunrise at Ulura. A series of wooden walkways arranged at strategically different hights on top of a small mound. People from many other groups were already there. By the time the sun poked above the horizon, I think there were a good hundred sightseers.

We all held our breath and then nothing happened. It really was a big disappointment. I am not sure what I was expecting but there should at least have been a few colours. Something to give a sense of drama, meaning and purpose to such an early morning. Perhaps, some days, the scene is glorious and Uluru glows resplendently in the first touches of the morning light. The sun is a fiercely burning massive fusion reaction 1.3 million times larger than the earth but today it was looking timorous and unassuming. The sky got lighter. Sunlight reached the rock. It was really nothing special at all. The small crowd dissipated as everyone headed off for breakfast.

Diane was up by the time I got back. We had a pleasant breakfast, packed and then joined the bus for the trip back to Alice Springs.

A few hours driving got us to a service station for lunch. After falafel and salad, we wandered out the back to see the emus. In many ways this was the highlight of the day. There were a dozen or so birds running around in a large paddock. Emus always seem a bit comical to me. They generally look a bit scruffy, have the most ludicrous expressions and gaze at you with large, staring eyes. This particular group of birds included an amorous couple who gave us a demonstration of how to make little emus.

Mid-afternoon we were back at the Alice Springs train station. Here we checked-in and were allocated a cabin for the rest of the journey to Adelaide. Formalities concluded, bags sorted and cabin located, we joined a coach to be taken for our evening meal. Tonight was another outdoor session, this time at the original Alice Springs telegram station. A historic location where the first bush telegram in central Australia was set up. Everything else came later. The town, the cattle stations, the road, the railway and everything else followed afterwards. The station was built next to a freshwater spring. Later in the year, the spring dried up and was revealed to actually be a seasonal river. None the less, the name, Alice Springs, stuck. Today, the buildings are a small museum which we explored before food was served.

We enjoyed the food as darkness fell. Wine was plentiful and a band helped to liven up the proceedings. It was not late when we were taken back to the train. This suited me well because I had been up since before sunrise. Back in our little cabin, the bunk beds had been set up. I dozed off just after the train started moving. The clacking of the wheels and motion of the carriage lulled me to sleep.

How we walked round the world’s largest monolith

Today we finally got to grips with Uluru. We had been steadily getting closer over the last few days. Now we were totally up close and personal. The road from the Ayres Rock Resort to Uluru is a half hour drive. Along the way are some splendid views but you are not allowed to stop. I think every viewpoint for the great monolith is carefully planned. There are places to watch the sunrise, the sunset, to see the fields of lights and the drones and all the rest of it. Each of them carefully arranged to give a clear view of Uluru in the background. So possibly there is no stopping on the approach roads to avoid congestion or maybe it is to ensure that vehicles do not spoil the view from the official outlooks. If every picture you have seen of Uluru looks as if it was taken from the same place, they probably were.

The first and most obvious observation from getting close to Uluru is of it being a properly big old rock. There is not crack or a fault, a seam or an intrusion or anything to divide the great mass of solid sandstone. From a distance it looks homogenous and smooth. Closer up, a chiaroscuro pattern emerges. After a few thousands of years, the rock develops a dark patina. It blackens under the effects of a sun. But the surface is flaky. Water gets in under the porous surface and causes small slabs of rock to ablate revealing fresh, bright, unscorched rock. The process creates a pockmarked tessellation of light and dark patches that covers much of the surface of the rock. There are a few cracks but they are small. In places the wind and rain have conspired to carve small depressions and holes. During the wet season enormous amounts of water flow off the top of Uluru. This has created many shallow valleys and pools.

We were shown to a couple of these pools. They are of deep cultural significance and there are signs prohibiting photography. We also got shown some rock art and a place where youngsters were taught bushcraft. In the far north-west of Uluru is the place where, back in the day, you could climb to the top of the rock. Only about 30% of the rock protrudes above the ground. Even so, it rises to 348 m. The route is quite steep, some sections up to forty-five degrees. There were chains that you could hang on to. Even so, the route could be quite dangerous. At least 37 people have died on the climb. Some from falling, others from heart attack or the effects of heat and dehydration. Today all climbing is banned. This is on the request of the local Anangu people, the traditional owners of the land. The very last day of climbing was the 26^th October 1991 when hundreds of people flocked to the rock before the cut-off time of 4pm. On the following day, the local hotel closed because they realised, correctly, that if the rock could not be climbed then many potential visitors, particularly from East Asia, would no longer be interested in visiting.

After that, we were essentially left to our own devices. A group of about a dozen of us decided that we should try and walk all the way around the rock. This was fun and gave us a sense of completion. It is not a particularly long walk. Just over 10 km and we had done a chunk of it already. The sky was clear and blue. The sun was warm but not especially hot. Almost perfect conditions for an afternoon stroll. Quite a few other people were walking around the rock. There was not a lot more to see. Possibly the highlight was a boulder that looked like a labrador’s head when seen from a certain angle.

Back to the hotel for a quick shower and then the evening’s entertainment was another outside meal. This time we got to sit at proper tables. The food was served buffet style and was not too exciting unless you are a fan of kangaroo and crocodile meat. There was however a guy playing a digeridoo when we arrived. This was fascinating and sounded terrific. The didgeridoo is an ancient wind instrument developed by the Aboriginal peoples a thousand or more years ago. Traditional instruments are crafted from eucalyptus trees naturally hollowed out by termites and are often decorated with intricate, hand-painted Aboriginal art. The sound is created by buzzing the lips, similar to playing a tuba or trombone. The instrument acts as both a bass and a time-keeping rhythm. Circular breathing allows players to sustain this sound indefinitely. This is an almost impossible sounding technique where you inhale through your nose while simultaneously expelling air stored in your cheeks, creating an unbroken drone. Later, we were given a quick guide to the stars by an expert using a laser pointer that reminded me of a light sabre.

Understanding Kata Tjuta and a spectacular sunset

We are in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Uluru is the monolith formerly known as Ayers Rock. Kata Tjuta is the other immense rock formation in the area. Both formations were created at about the same time, 600 m years ago and in a similar way. Uluru and Kata Tjuta are made of sediment originating in the Mount Currie Conglomerate and both have a chemical composition similar to granite. Uluru is composed of fine grade sediment that formed a single monolith while Kata Tjuta is built of mixed size deposits. After the sediments were laid down, they were compressed and uplifted while the surrounding land was eroded away. Kata Tjuta, also known as The Olgas, is comprised of several domes up to nearly 500 m height. Higher than Uluru. From a distance they look similar.

Day by day we are inching closer to Uluru. The tour company is teasing us. Today we walked up Walpa Gorge, a deep ravine between two of the peaks of Kata Tjuta. As usual, it was a bright sunny morning. We began by visiting a viewpoint where I spotted some Crested Pigeons. There were also some interesting flowers. One of these, a red one, had its flowers at the bottom of the plant. The reason given to me was that the leaves could shelter the flowers from the sun.

Central Australia has been extraordinarily wet this year. One station owner told us that it was a once in ten years event or rarer. The result of this is that, rather unusually, the desert is green and blooming. It barely looks like a desert, at least, not the sort I have seen before. We are out walking in the cool morning looking out on a predominantly green landscape dotted with many types of flowers. This, we are assured, is very unusual.

Getting closer to the raw rock of Kata Tjuṯa, its composite nature becomes much more apparent. Rocks of many assorted sizes have been packed together to form an aggregate. This is not desperately stable and it is easy to spot boulders that have simply fallen out of the cliffs. Uluru, by comparison, is made of a finer and more consistent deposit that has formed a more stable type of rock.

The walk up into Walpa Gorge was interesting. We could not get all the way to the cleft at the top. This was a small disappointment because I had hoped to see out the other side. Nonetheless, it felt like we had penetrated deep into the rock structure. We could get up close and personal with the strange sedimentary deposits.

In the evening we were treated to another of Bruce Monro’s creations. This is the artist who built a large installation out of empty wine bottles. This time it was fields of light. Fields and fields filled with small lights on sticks. Like illuminated tulips. Acres of them. It was quite a remarkable achievement. The evening began at a viewing platform with drinks and snacks. We had yet another view of Uluru as the sun sank down behind us. This time however, I felt the natural world had the last word. There was the most fantastic sunset with an amazing layer of clouds brilliantly lit in red and gold. After that, we did go and wander around the light fields. I amused myself by trying to take photographs without a tripod. The light fields were pleasant but, on balance, the sunset was spectacular.

Does a Witchetty grub really taste like fried eggs?

Getting up at 8 am felt like a luxurious lie-in after the day before. We had an unhurried breakfast before we were taken out to the Karrke Aboriginal Cultural Experience and Tours. This is an Indigenous owned and operated enterprise. Karrke is the Aranda name for the western Bowerbird.

We were introduced to siblings Peter and Natasha who showed us around various displays of bush tucker and bush medicines. I am not entirely sure of this, but I think the old lifestyle would centre around stopping at a place with water and killing some animals. This was the main stay of their nutrition. In between, the group would be moving and often not have the time or the opportunity for hunting. This is where bush tucker would come in. Roots, berries, fruits and other things collected on the go. A supplement to keep everyone going but not the whole diet.

We were shown a wide variety of fruits and berries which could be dried and carried easily. We were also shown how to get the Witchetty grubs out of roots. Natasha assured us that these tasted really nice, a little like fried egg. Diane was not so sure and none of our group was prepared to brave up and try one. A lot was explained to us about the fruits and berries. I was confident that if I photographed them, it would be possible to use Google later to find out the names and specific details. This works quite well for birds. For berries it is hopeless. I guess all dried berries look similar and the only thing I could be sure of from the Google search was that it was usually wrong. So, I present to you, a great pile of unnamed bush tucker.

We were also shown some different types of ochre. A natural clay earth pigment that is rich in iron oxide. The predominant colour in the rock and sand around here is red. Iron oxide in everything. The ochre came in a few different colours each of which could be ground down and used for decoration. Anything from body painting to dyeing cloth.

Finally came medicinal plants. There are not so many of these and mostly they are used by burning them. Pete demonstrated how to stand in front of the smoke. This did not seem so difficult so I had a go myself. The plant being burnt was supposed to relax and invigorate. Not sure if it helped or not but I did smell smoky for a while afterwards.

We had a bit of driving to get on with after this. A couple of hours brought us the Kings Creek Station. In Australia, the term ‘station’ is used to describe a farm or ranch. Kings Creek used to be a cattle station but these days it is more about tourism. You can camp there or rent a luxury tent. There are buggy rides, helicopter rides and horse rides. There is also a service station, restaurant and souvenir shop. We had a cup of tea looked at some souvenirs.

In 1872, the explorer Ernest Giles was pushing east from Alice Springs trying to get to Uluru and Kata Tjuta. He could see both these prominent, rounded features but was ultimately thwarted by Lake Amadeus. At 180 km long, this is the largest salt lake in Northern Territory. The predominantly dry conditions mean that the lake is usually dried out and presents a salty crust. Under this is soft mud and Giles discovered that the lakebed could not support the weight of his horses. We stopped by the roadside for a view over the lake which, although interesting, was not especially photogenic.

Over the last few days, we had been sidling up closer and closer to Uluru, the very large, very famous monolith that used to be called Ayres Rock. Late afternoon we arrived at the Sails in the Desert Hotel, part of the Ayers Rock Resort. We were getting closer than ever to Uluru. It was solidly visible a relatively short distance away.

In the evening we went to sit on the viewing platform of an open-air theatre atop a sand dune. Uluru formed the backdrop. In this lovely setting, just after sunset, we watched a presentation of a traditional Aboriginal story told using drones. 1024 drones with lights on and some big speakers hidden behind bushes. It was fun. We were asked not to take photographs. I sympathised and supported this. I think otherwise we would have watched the presentation through a small sea of smartphones. The story made no sense to me at all but I still enjoyed the show and found myself wondering about how to program and coordinate a drone display. We were given an excellent picnic hamper. It was a bit heavy on the falafel and salad but still went down well with the plentiful drinks.

Working hard on the King’s rim before an exciting flight

It was well before 5 am, it was dark and I was barely awake. Diane had already declared that she was having none of it so I tried not to wake her. I tip-toed out of the room as best I could in walking boots. It was a few hundred metres to the restaurant. The air was cool and crisp. The sun and moon were notable for their complete absence. Stars were twinkling and I was going for breakfast. What sort of nonsense is this.

We were up early to do the Kings Canyon rim walk. I have always enjoyed the freedom of the hills. I was quite looking forward to it. Here we were, deep in the outback, far from civilisation, in a vast open country, about to hike a trail that takes in some spectacular views around Kings Canyon. I was rather surprised by how many rules there were. Only do the walk clockwise. You must start before 9 am. Stay on the stairs and boardwalks. Do not swim in the waterhole. Do not fall off the cliffs. Honestly, there were signs stating that falling off the cliffs can hurt.

Breakfast and short drive later we were in the car park. So were quite a lot of other people. It might be the middle of nowhere, but there are only a few places to go. Still no sign of the sun. We followed the crowds and arrived at the bottom of a staircase. It was rough and made of rocks but easy walking. 100 m pull onto the ridge. Our guide, Andy, set off at quite a pace. I didn’t. Seriously, I know better. Early morning is heart attack time. Early morning with strenuous exercise; doubly so. Every winter, about 100 people in the US die while shovelling snow. This used to be a mystery but now we understand the dangers of early morning strenuous exercise. I pottered up without trying too hard. Alpine pace. We eventually all assembled at the top just as the sun finally put in an appearance. It was spectacular. Bright sunshine on the ridges and outcrops around us.

The next hour was pretty steady. An easy undulating path clearly marked with blue arrows. The sun warmed us although not too much. The views made it all completely worthwhile. The crowds had dissipated. Not so much dispersed in the open wilderness as spread out along the single allowed trail. We arrived at the head of the canyon. This is where stops being a magnificent, steeply walled valley and turns into a crack. Still quite an impressive gap which we descended into using some wooden stairs. We crossed over the river via a wooden bridge. This was fun but I could not help but think a narrow suspension bridge would have worked better. One of those that swings a lot and has a couple of sketchy wooden planks in the middle.

At this point, we could have ascended to the far side of the canyon. Instead, we followed a narrow walkway signposted to the Garden of Eden. A rocky path and a couple more wooden stairs. The Garden is a lovely pool tucked deep inside the cleft at the top of the canyon. The trapped water here can last a long time after the rains have stopped making it another sacred pool. There were birds and a mass of vegetation. The pool was like a mirror to the sky. Fantastic reflections if a little confusing because of their clarity.

We pressed on and climbed the ladders up to the far side. This gave us some terrific views across the canyon. Very strange looking rock. It is a sandstone. The sediment from an ancient lake or sea. But it is soft. Quite easy to break in your hands. It forms layered pillow-like structures where it is weathered by the rain and wind. One place on the canyon wall it is steep, almost vertical and quite smooth. Polished flat and then peppered with small indents.

Only about a third of our group had come on the rim walk. The rest, including Diane, had a more relaxed morning and a gentle walk along the bottom of the canyon. They greeted us with cheers when we arrived back at the car park just before midday. King’s Canyon Rim Walk – 6 km, 4 hours, grade 4.

Diane and I grabbed a bit of falafel and salad for lunch. Then came one of Diane’s favourite things to do – a helicopter flight. The small heliport was conveniently close to the hotel. Four people at a time. Heaviest got to sit in the front next to the pilot. That was nice, I like sitting in the front.

It was a bit of a quickie. A fifteen-minute flight up and around the canyon. We could both see where we had walked in the morning. We could also clearly see the rock formations around the canyon. They looked even stranger from the air. Some sections looked a little like a riverbed albeit on a gigantic scale. The lowlands regularly flood during the rainy season in places this was quite clear. Patches looked just like a dried-up lake. Possibly that is exactly what they were. Fifteen minutes is not very long. Far too soon we were back on the ground. It was, however, an excellent flight.

The program stated, “As afternoon turns to evening, we’ll enjoy sunset drinks and canapes at Light-Towers, an immersive sound and light installation by the acclaimed artist Bruce Munro”. This started off well. Sunset, drinks, canapes. All very enjoyable. Then we ambled along a walkway to see the light installation. It was a series of towers. Each one made of empty wine bottles containing a small light. In the centre of the tower, ethereal music was quietly emanating from a small speaker. Sadly, my missing artistic gene asserted itself again and I was left with a profound sense of “why?”. I imagined the artist had woken up one morning after a particularly good session with friends, seen a great pile of empty wine bottles and thought “what can I do with these?”.

The full outback experience, a long, uncomfortable drive

Bags packed and we were ready to leave Alice Springs. Today we are going to head out into the real outback of the West MacDonnell Ranges and Kings Canyon Resort. Many miles to be covered today. Some of them on unpaved corrugated tracks.

First stop was Ellery Creek. A pleasant, short walk to another watering spot in a gap. The morning was cool and fresh. The creek was green and dappled with sunlight. Again, we were told tales of wallabies but saw none. There was, however, tea and cake.

Next stop was Ormiston Gorge. Here Diane and I went our separate ways. Not because we had fallen out but because there was a choice. I took the high road up many steps to a lookout. Diane went for the low road and a gentle stroll down to the river. It was nice to stretch my legs a little and the views were well worthwhile. I even got to spot Diane down in the bottom of the gorge. At the lookout was one of my favourite signs so far. It stated that you should not throw rocks at the people in the bottom of the gorge. No doubt this reminder has saved many lives.

Diane and I were back together again. We had lunch. Salad and falafel in the Ormiston Gorge car park. Then we got settled into the truck for some serious driving. Several hours of it. The road sections were a bit tedious although I enjoyed watching the scenery roll past. The corrugations reminded me of trips in Africa and elsewhere. Uncomfortable and noisy. Everyone was happy when we arrived at our hotel in the Kings Canyon Resort. In this case, resort meant a campsite, some motel style rooms, a filling station and a combined bar and restaurant. Beyond that – nothing. Scrub bushes, sand, distant hills.

Time for an early night. In the morning, I was going to have to get up spectacularly early to walk the rim of the Kings Canyon.

A sacred rock, two chasms, a thorny devil and how to bake bread

Breakfast in the Alice Springs Hotel was excellent. A good variety of food, proper cappuccino coffee and omelette with chillies. We all assembled at the truck turned into a coach and set off to explore the local area. First stop, only just up the road, was the memorial for Reverend John Flynn at the base of Mount Gillen. His claim to fame is being the founder of the Royal Flying Doctor Service. I guess that is a pretty good one. The 8-ton boulder was requested by his wife. A suitable rock could not be found locally in 1953 so one was fetched from the Devils Marbles (Karlu Karlu) area. Unfortunately, nobody asked permission from the traditional owners of the site, the Warumungu and Kaytetye people. They got upset because these boulders have extraordinary powers and their damage, or removal, can have life threatening consequences. At the same time the people local to Alice Springs, the Arrernte, were concerned about someone else’s sacred boulder on their land. There was much discussion, debate, concern, arguments and even an incident when the stone got painted. In 1998 things were finally sorted out. The original stone when back to where it came from, a suitable replacement was found with permission from the Arrernte. Everyone was happy now they had their rocks back in the right place.

The West MacDonnell mountain range stretches East-West for about 650 km with Alice Springs roughly in the centre. They are not especially high, 1,500 m, but they dominate the landscape and create a variety of interesting features. We began at Simpsons Gap. Black-footed rock wallaby purportedly live here – but we did not see any signs. A short stroll. Some steep rocks and the remains of a river. In the wet season there are rivers all over the place. Most of these stop completely in the dry season. No crocs here. We are too far inland. Many snakes, spiders and other Australian beasts that can kill you but we could at least relax about being crocwise.

Next up was Standley Chasm. Like the previous gap, this is also a place sacred to the Western Arrernte Aboriginal people. It is also a place where water can be found in the dry season. Out here, in the desert, water is massively important. To the nomadic Aboriginals, any sort of settlement, even tents, close to a water source was a threat. This principle was behind many of the early conflicts with European settlers. It took us an hour to walk up to the chasm and back. We were well ready for our lunch, falafel and salad, by the time we got back to the coach.

In the afternoon came the Alice Springs Desert Park. Another of these places that is a combination of a sanctuary, a zoo and a park. The site is orientated around local desert life with a strong focus on birds. We set off following a trail that led us past various enclosures. The first bird area had some cheeky Zebra Finches, a sulking Ringneck and a Triller.

It was hot and sunny. To avoid the worst of the heat we tended to scuttle between the enclosures and the shade of the viewing areas. In the next one we found more finches enjoying a bath. There were also some budgerigars. Long the favourite of Grandmothers around England, these bright birds fly around in the wild outback. These particular budgies were in a cage, albeit a little larger than the one found in the average Rotherham terraced house.

Next enclosure had a perentie monitor lizard in a small, separate section. We also found an oak-titmouse, a red-capped robin and some black-faced woodswallow. At last, we had reached the reptile house. We basked in the coolness as our eyes got used to the dim light. Then I spotted a thorny devil. Incredibly strange looking creatures. Makes me think of Doctor Who monsters from many decades ago. They are, however, very real, very fearsome and fortunately small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.

I spotted a gidgee skink hiding inside a hollow log. In the next tank was a lovely looking rainbow skink. Tiny but very pretty. Then we were back in the great outdoors again. We had to watch the time because there was going to be a bird show and we were assured we would not be allowed in if we were late. One more bird enclosure. This one had a magnificent red-tailed black cockatoo and some tiny bright blue birds. Took me ages to get a photograph of the splendid fairywren. I later found out that the brilliant colours were because it was in its breeding plumage.

The enclosure was quite large. I found several other birds and spent some more time photographing the cockatoos. I also spotted a delicate little brown bird with just a hint of blue on its tail. This turned out to also be a splendid fairywren that was either a female or a male in its non-breeding plumage.

We made it to the bird show on time. It was similar to the one we had seen in the Territory Park, Darwin but still fun to watch. One of the participants was a tiny willie wagtail. Very cheeky and completely unafraid of the larger birds and raptors. An owl was very impressive. It took food from the presenter’s hand and swooped low over the heads of the audience making everyone duck. A black-breasted buzzard turned up and proceeded to demonstrate how to use a stone to crack an emu egg. I was ready for it this time and manage to get a sequence of photographs showing the destruction of the egg.

In the evening we went to a barbeque. I usually try and avoid these disturbingly gruesome and smelly meat festivals however, this time, it was not an option. In the event, I quite enjoyed it. The evening began in an old quarry that has been repurposed. The sunset was terrific and with the encroaching shadow and rising moon, came a pleasant coolness. Our host, the owner of the quarry, regaled us with local stories while simultaneously making bread. This was interesting if nothing else. Turned out that he was quite the raconteur and, we discovered later, a skilled bread maker. As he talked, he mixed flour, water, brandy-soaked raisins, salt and other ingredients. The dough was then kneaded with one hand while he gesticulated with the other.

The main course food was centred around enormous steaks. I know, this is normal for a barbeque. Fortunately, there was also a big pile of baked potatoes that were hot and properly crisped up. Spuds, with some salad and falafel made for quite a reasonable meal. It was served far away from the cooking meat, so thankfully we did not have to tolerate the smell of burning flesh. Also, there was plenty of wine. After dinner came some music, singing and audience participation. Finally, the bread was served. It had been baked in a Dutch oven on an open fire. Now it was served up with a dollop of cream. Delicious.

First two days of an epic train journey

We were going on a train journey of 3,000 km from Darwin to Adelaide in South Australia. The Ghan is one of the world’s great passenger trains. Started in 1929 as a narrow gauge from Adelaide to Alice Springs it was finally extended, as a standard gauge track, to Darwin in 2004. For some odd reason, the track does not quite reach Darwin but stops about 10 km short. To join the train, we had to get up exceedingly early in the morning and assemble in a hotel lobby to board a coach.

The coach delivered us to the station where we checked in and were then served breakfast on the platform. Around 9am the train arrived. 28 cars pulled by two dark red locomotives. My first impression was that it could do with a bit of a wash. The cars were built in the 70s. They are glorious, if slightly dated, stainless steel carriages. The two engines at the front were thunderously loud and caked in diesel soot. We took a small step back in time and were shown to our cabin.

The room was small but adequate. A bench seat turned into two bunks at night. There was a small toilet and shower. The type where you could, if you wanted, sit on the toilet while you were having a shower. The cabin was comfortable enough considering that we did not have to spend very much time in there. We sat there for an hour as the train set off and the countryside began to roll past us. A possibly familiar looking waterfall in Litchfield Park flashed past us and then we off into the unknown.

Lunch was served in the dining car. We had to wait ten minutes before we could be seated. It was cosy. I ended trying to eat with my elbows pinned to my chest. Small trees and endless grassland rolled past. I struggled to eat soup with motionless arms, using just wrist action and a spoon. We chatted with the other couple at the table. “Where are you from?”. “Where are you going?”. The usual stuff. I kept hoping to see a kangaroo. The main course was washed down with a glass of white wine. Even a bird would have been nice but all I spotted was a short, barbed wire fence.

Not long after lunch we arrived at the town of Katherine. Population 10,000. 300 km south of Darwin. Farming country. Many cattle and many mango trees. Mining used to be important but less so now. Tourism is significant. We were loaded onto a coach along with some thirty other people and taken to a cave.

Diane and I like caves. We have visited many. We chose a cave trip because it seemed fun and it would be cool. In the event, it was fun but far from cool. First, we were given a little history of the cave in a small visitor centre. Then we were warned of the bats, snakes and spiders that inhabit the cave. Then we were warned of narrow parts and questioned about claustrophobia. Finally, we got to walk the kilometre or so to the cave entrance.

The cave was quite easy. It was fitted with walkways, handrails and electric lighting. Inside was quite pretty with stalactites, stalagmites and various calcite flowstones. It was mucky. The cave floods during the wet season leaving mud on all the walls and discolouring all the formations.

A few minutes in, I spotted my first deadly spider. Turned out to be a cave cricket. Totally innocuous. Not sure if I was disappointed or relieved. However, there was something strange. The further we got into the cave, the hotter it was becoming. Usually, even in the tropics, caves are cooler inside. The explanation was a hot spring. There was volcanically heated water under the cave. It raised the temperature of the terminal sump to 38 °C or so. As we moved forward the air became warmer and more humid. By the time we finally turned around it was quite unpleasantly warm. On the way out we spotted the discarded skin of a snake. The carnivorous ghost bats and brown tree snakes remained hidden. Or possibly absent. Just before we finally left the visitor centre, I discovered another deadly Australian spider in the toilets. Later research revealed that the Golden Silk Orb-Weaver Spider is generally regarded as harmless to humans.

Back at the train, we settled in for the evening. Dinner was a pleasant affair. The table was no bigger but the food was good and the wine plentiful. While we were eating, someone converted our cabin from a bench seat to two bunks. It had been an early start and a long day so we turned in shortly after dinner. I took the top bunk. Rocked by the motion of the train and soothed by the clicking of wheels on tracks, I quickly fell asleep. Diane unfortunately was jolted by the irregular lurching of the carriage and disturbed by the clanking, rattling and thumping sounds of steel wheels on steel tracks.

In the morning, just after breakfast, we arrived at Alice Springs. I was relaxed and well rested. Diane less so. In fact she was tired, grumpy and had a headache. Here we left the train. Alice Springs was the end of phase one of the trip. From here we would travel, by truck, into the outback. A week later we would be back to rejoin the train. In the meantime, we were destined for the harsh bushland of central Australia. First, however, we had lunch in the community arts centre. Lettuce leaves and falafel. We were starting to look forward to it now. During lunch we were introduced to our tour guide, Andy, and to each other. 26 tourists sharing a truck with a coach conversion, for a week.

After lunch, everyone had and hour or so to wander the art gallery. I tried. I really did. But at my core I think I am lacking the genes needed to understand and appreciate art. I wandered around getting increasingly bored and eventually ended up photographing birds in the car park. Art gallery done, we had a short drive around to take in the Alice Springs area. This suited me much better and I got to take some more photographs. That was it for the day. We were taken to our hotel for the next two nights. Diane was greatly appreciative of the quiet, stationary bed.

How to be crocwise and worship the sun

In Darwin, we had a few days of sitting around getting all our stuff sorted. Then we went to see a crocodile farm. Then we were looking for something else to do so we signed up for a trip to Litchfield Park. This is a large national park to the south of Darwin. Along with a few other tourists, we were going to drive there in a minibus, visit a few locations and come back.

Our day began early. 6 am is possibly the coolest part of the day. Even so, shorts and a shirt are adequate clothing. Up here in the tropics the four seasons are simplified to just two; wet and dry. The dry season has just started so everyone thinks it is cool and pleasant. Except for me. I think it is still hot and sweaty. Possibly the wet season would kill me dead in just a few hours. This said, at 6 am, in my shorts, it was not too bad. The minibus was gloriously air conditioned. I dozed peacefully until, an hour later, we arrived at the termite mounds.

Magnetic termite mounds are so-called because they are long, thin and aligned to the cardinal points. This shape and orientation keeps the worst of the sun off them. The tiny termites stay cool and happy inside. They look a little strange, however. Like large flakes of rock stuck into the ground. Elsewhere, tucked into the trees, a different type of termite had been building the more familiar “cathedral” mound. Some of these were quite large. 3 m or more.

Next stop was an outlook where we could gaze across the park wilderness. In the wet season, much of this gets flooded and crocodiles roam through the stumpy trees. Now the rivers were receding taking the reptiles with them. Dry bits were quite safe, we were told, but some of the pools might be a bit “croccy”. A short stroll took us to a lovely pool with a thundering waterfall. Strictly no swimming here however on account of possibly crocs.

Next up was a swampy area. We were allowed to carefully wander around here while lunch was set up. I found a few birds and a monitor lizard. Lunch was nice. Falafel and salad. Later we discovered that this is the standard lunch for vegetarians. Fortunately, we both like falafel.

Another, even larger series of waterfalls kept us busy in the afternoon. A network of wooden staircases took us between several plunge pools. This area was much more jungle like and densely packed with trees. Still no swimming. Sometimes you can swim here but not until at least four weeks after the last croc is spotted or caught. For now, it was too early in the season.

Last stop of the day was a small series of pools where swimming was allowed. These were positioned above a significant waterfall. This topology meant that crocs could not get to the pools at any time of the year. Crocodiles can jump, we had seen them, but they cannot climb. Many people were here enjoying the cool water and relaxing without the worry of losing a limb. We dangled our feet in the cool stream for a while.

Back in Darwin, we rounded off the day with a visit to Mindle Beach. An evening market is here on Thursdays and Sundays. The stalls are mostly food. Everything from momos and smoothies to kangaroo steaks and local gin. As the sun began to set, we wandered out of the market and onto the beach. There were many people. A thousand or more. All sitting around with some food or a drink watching the sun set. Our local star did its thing admirably. Brilliant red and yellow skies to silhouette some passing boats and even a camel train. There was a collective hush as the last limb of the sun vanished and then applause. Sun worship is alive and well.

Next day we had to repack our bags ready for the long train ride.

Jumping crocodiles and the truth about handbags

We are in Darwin for a few days. We have hired an apartment where we can slow down for a while and get our lives organised. Here we can cook for ourselves and plan our own days. Darwin is in the north of Australia and close to the equator. It is always hot here. The dry season has just started. For the last six months it has been rainy and humid with many thunderstorms. Now it feels cooler and the skies are clear. That is what they tell me. I would agree that the skies are clear but it still feels thoroughly hot to me.

First off we went out to explore Darwin a little and discovered a trove of street art.

Darwin is crocodile central. During the wet season, the crocs can travel along the swollen rivers and across the flooded plains. They get everywhere. Once the dry season arrives, the tourist spots that are “croccy” need to be made safe. This mostly involves trapping. Sadly, most trapped animals end up in the handbag factory. One guide explained to us that a captured crocodile was once tagged so that it could be tracked. It was taken a long way away and released into the ocean. After a while of swimming around it appeared to get its bearings and then headed straight back to the tourist location where it had originally been caught.

A thousand or so people are killed by crocodiles each year around the world. The vast majority of these fatalities occur in rural and impoverished regions of Africa and Asia where people and crocs live in close proximity. Nile crocodiles account for the most injuries. These crocodiles are considered the most prolific predators of humans among wild animals. Saltwater crocodiles are responsible for dozens of fatal attacks every year, particularly in regions like Papua New Guinea and Indonesia. Australia is infamous for its massive apex predators however, fatal crocodile attacks are relatively rare. Records show an average of 1 to 2 fatalities a year nationally, with most incidents occurring not far from Darwin.

There are two principal types of crocodile; saltwater and freshwater. Salties and Freshies according to the local vernacular. Salties have a gland in their mouths which allows them to expel salt. They can live in salt or fresh water. The males are the biggest problem. They can grow to over 5 m long and be quite aggressive. Freshies and female salties rarely exceed 3 m. It may be that the males can grow even bigger. Some fifty years ago, the crocodiles had been hunted almost to the point of extinction. This is a common story. It surprises me how often I write how this or that species was almost wiped out. Anyhow, the government stepped in, made the crocs a protected species and now they are doing quite well. Like most endangered species, the trick is to leave them alone. This does mean however, that there are no really old crocodiles. Male salties continue to grow throughout their life. These days the most mature crocs are sixty years old and 5 m long. They can almost certainly live longer in which case they may well get to be bigger.

Protected or not, there is a big market for crocodile skins and meat. This has led to the establishment of crocodile farms. Initially this was to satisfy the demand for skins but, more recently, crocodile meat has become known as a fashionable and healthier (for the human, not the croc) alternative to pork. As with most animals, the Chinese will use it in their traditional medicine although they are not great eaters of croc meat.

Turns out that farming crocs is not completely straightforward so the business is often combined with tourism. An argument can be made that farming reduces the risk from poaching. It can also be combined with a program to support the wild population. Similarly, a better understanding of crocodiles through their captive handling may also benefit the wild population.

We went to visit a crocodile farm called Crocodylus Park. It does not advertise itself as a farm. Rather it is “Darwin’s premier wildlife park”. There are a lot of crocodiles along with dedicated breeding pens and other facilities. There is also a small shop which sells souvenirs and handbags.

When we first arrived, we were asked if we wanted to see the jumping crocs. This sounded too good to miss. We crossed the attendant’s palm with silver and proceeded to a small, flat-bottomed boat along with a few parents and many small children. Now, consider that this is a farm, so they must feed the crocs. Each mature snapper gets about a kilo of raw chicken each day. If you dangle that chicken on the end of a pole, the croc will learn to jump out of the water for it. People will pay to see this. Now, you are making money out of your crocs in two ways. Happy days. The reality was not so exciting as I had hoped. The boat had a metal cage around it. This kind of makes sense but when combined with all the small children it made taking worthwhile photographs almost impossible.

The rest of the park was quite interesting. There were many distinct types of crocodile in many different stages of development. Diane got to hold a small, rather disaffected youth of a croc with a taped-up mouth. Even the little ones are good for solid nip and this one looked up for some insults as well. We saw some injured crocs as well. One female was missing part of her lower jaw.

Mostly the park is crocodiles but there were a few other animals. Some were Australian and others simply there for novelty value. On the Aussy side there were some wallabies and dingoes. Representing the rest of the world we spotted a handful of African meercats. Extremely cute but also a bit lonely. A South American capybara, looking long way from its home. An ostrich. Remarkably large when you get eye to eye with one. A very strange looking monkey that I chose to call Colin. Colin the Cotton-Top Tamarin from Columbia.

We managed to wander around for three hours but then the heat was starting to get to us. There was a small crocodile museum that we enjoyed visiting because of the air conditioning. Then we were done and headed back to our small apartment and more air conditioning.

Culmination of a great voyage and a triumph for Only Fans

Turning our backs on the cannibals of New Guinea, we had two sea days before disembarkation in Darwin in Australia. Finally, we are close to the end of the voyage. Since leaving Valparaiso in Chile, we have covered thousands of miles. We have crossed the whole Pacific Ocean. We have visited some wonderful remote islands and encountered many interesting cultures and communities. We have spent many days at sea staring at an endless blue horizon and now it is just about over.

Time to get down to some serious boat building. There was a competition to build a boat. The vessels would be judged on the last sea day. Philip had constructed a basic hull from some water bottles. I added some superstructure and the propulsion system. Diane created a figure to skipper the ship. Susan made the signage. A proper team effort. We had won the daily trivia contest, a week earlier. Our prize was two electric fans. You can wave the fan in your face to keep cool. I mounted two of these on the boat so that they would push it along. A trial run in the bathtub, a bit of ballast and we were good to go.

We named the boat “Seabourn Only Fans”. A nod to the drive mechanism. On the day, when all the boat names were announced, there was a ripple of amusement. Others were puzzled as to what the joke was. The captain was chief judge and obviously a man of the world. He pointed out that if Seabourn actually named a ship “Only Fans” that it might cause some misunderstandings.

Our rivals were a mixed bunch. They included some very decorative entries and a rocket made of tin cans that must have taken weeks to build. In the crunch, our boat was the only one with propulsion. While the others floated or sank in the swimming pool, ours cheerfully steamed up and down. We won the competition.

Our prize was a small rucksack stuffed with Seabourn merchandise. Three soft toys, more fans, caps and so on. We had to leave most of it. Our lives are based on a 23 kg suitcase. One in, one out. If I had taken the very cute kangaroo with joey then I would have needed to take out two shirts and some socks.

Next morning, we arrived in Darwin. Usually, the ship will kick you off as soon as possible. This time however we had a day in Darwin. We were quite happy to have an extra night onboard and to go on the included tour. As usual, this involved getting up a little earlier than we really wanted and being bundled into a coach. We were taken out to the Territory Wildlife Park. Something between an park, an animal sanctuary and zoo.

Time was a bit limited. I think really, we could have spent an entire day there but we only had a couple of hours. First stop was the aquarium. This was quite well laid out and gloriously air conditioned. Obviously, there were a lot of fish tanks. There was also a tunnel where you could watch the fish from underneath. A few fish I could recognise from our snorkelling trips. I was quite pleased with that. There were a couple of crocodiles in a larger tank. The tank seemed small however for such enormous beasts. I looked the largest crocodile in the eye and thought it seemed bit bored. Not too surprising. Darwin is crocodile central. There are crocs everywhere. Some in parks but most just swimming around hoping for hapless tourists to wander into their grasp. In the centre of the city is an indoor crocodile display. You can pay to go into the “cage of death”. It is not a cage and you will not die, however, it is a plastic tube that allows you to swim next to the live crocodiles. Right next to crocodile tanks is a shop selling crocodile skin handbags and shoes.

Next up was the nocturnal animal display. Another air-conditioned building. This time it was dark inside. Initially I could barely see a thing. Over time a few tanks and cages came into view. We spotted some rodents, some snakes and some tree dwelling animals. Even after ten minutes, it was hard to spot anything. Photography was quite impossible. I tried but the best I could manage was a blurry picture of a mouse.

Rushing on, we came to an open-air place called the “flight deck” to watch a short show about birds. This turned out to be a small amphitheatre where we could all sit in the shade of a high roof. A young and very enthusiastic girl gave a presentation. Essentially, she fed various birds as they appeared and talked to us about them. The birds all knew their roles and were being let out by someone out of sight. It was quite an impressive show and gave me chance to get a few nice photographs.

A stork, some pretty lorikeets and an Australian Bustard were each marched out, fed and sent away. Then came a lovely barn owl which appeared to enjoy the attention flew right over people’s heads several times. An emu appeared which gave the presenter a chance to introduce an emu egg. Possibly not a real one. It was explained to us that these eggs are very tough to crack open. Next came a Black-breasted Buzzard who proceeded to demonstrate how it uses a rock to crack open the egg. Their beaks and talons are not strong enough so they have learned to throw a rock at the egg. One of the few cases of tool use amongst birds. Apparently, some birds have a favourite rock they use. Studies indicate this is an innate, hardwired behaviour. Not a learned skill passed down from parent to chick. They will even attempt to use rocks on egg-shaped objects like balls. This is probably what we witnessed. Finally, a Brahminy Kite swooped into view. It flew over us several times while catching pieces of food thrown into the air by the keeper.

A short walk brought us back to the entrance area. Here we spotted a Blue-tongued Skink and a keeper feeding a Fruit Bat from a bowl of fruit. Back on the bus we got taken to the world-famous Humpty Do Hotel. We could tell it is world famous because a sign on the wall proclaimed as much. The sign did not indicate just what the hotel was famous for.

Our last night on the Seabourn Pursuit was noticeably quiet. Many people had already left. Looking over the balcony I thought I spotted a small shark. It turned out to be a Diamond-scale Mullet. We are done with ships for a while. Time to hole up in Darwin and find our land legs.

How to avoid fainting when you meet the indigenous headhunters

Last year we cruised around part of Indonesia. We were heading towards Agats in New Guinea when the ship had to divert to Thursday Island, Australia because of a medical emergency. We never got to see anything of New Guinea. I guess there are only a few places in New Guinea that are good for expedition ships to visit because today, on a different ship run by a different company, we were heading for the same small village.

On the previous day, we passed through the Torres Straits. The channel separating Australia from Papua New Guinea is 150 km at its narrowest point. Although it is an international shipping lane, the straits are shallow in many places and littered with small islands. A few of the islands are inhabited. The indigenous people are distinct from the Papuans of New Guinea and from Aboriginal Australians. However, they are related to both. Despite being quite an interesting area, photogenically it is hopeless. Dull grey clouds. Small, undistinguished islands and very few birds. The only photograph of any worth was one Diane took of the pilot boat leaving.

In the morning, the ship parked well away from the coast. There is a river delta here and the shallows extend a long way. The expedition team wanted everyone to arrive at the same time so they launched all the zodiacs. It took an hour to get everyone into the boats and another hour to reach the coast. It was hot and Seabourn made two rather unfortunate mistakes. On the previous day, they had explained that there was only a single, rather unpleasant, toilet in the village. In the morning, they explained that the sea was a bit choppy so people should wear waterproofs to avoid getting wet in the zodiacs. Many people boarded the zodiac in a state of dehydration and wearing far too many clothes for such hot conditions. It was over 30° C with a blazing hot sun. From our boat of ten souls, one had to be sent back with the doctor in a support boat after only twenty minutes. Another poor woman fainted as we arrived close to the shore. Getting a bit wet in the boat was, in fact, a benefit and good hydration was absolutely essential.

As we approached the shore, war canoes came out to greet us. When I say “greet”, what I really mean is a lot of fierce looking warriors chanting, shouting, banging oars against their war canoes and stamping their feet. Stamping your feet in a dugout canoe probably takes a little practise.

Initially, there were just a few canoes. This was impressive. It went on to become even more impressive as more canoes full of fearsome natives in the full traditional regalia of a magnificent war party turned up. Some of the painted men were wielding weapons. I noticed that the oars had a paddle at one end while the other end was sharpened to a point. The oars were spears.

Slowly, the sixty or so war canoes herded the two dozen zodiacs into the river entrance. The RHIBs were all bunched up closely together. The canoes formed a line right across the river. There was no gap for escape. Still chanting, screaming and stomping they steadily advanced. We were forced bit by bit, further and further upstream until the village finally came into view. Then the drums started.

The Asmat people were known as headhunters and cannibals. Captain Cook was the first person to land here. He put a small expeditionary group ashore but they rapidly retreated sensing danger from the locals. Much later, missionaries attempted to dissuade the natives of their headhunting ways. It was difficult. The traditions were deeply embedded and resilient. Many beliefs and rituals surrounded taking the heads of your enemies. Stories of headhunting raids persisted into the 1990s. Some of the people chanting and waving weapons at me might well have tasted human flesh.

The rhythmic, hypnotic pounding of the drums was joined by singing from the hundreds of indigenous people on shore. Woman, children, the chiefs and many others adding to the cacophony from ethe canoes. In front of another line of canoes appeared. A second army of warriors. We were pinned between two advancing forces. The only sensible thing to do was tie up the zodiacs and get our cameras out.

The two opposing forces held a mock battle in front of us. Their skill in controlling the canoes is exceptional. Just to balance a canoe while standing up is probably beyond most people. To do so with several other people in the same canoe, while paddling, while shouting and while waving weapons in the air is quite remarkable. The groups paddled past each other at full speed missing each other by miniscule amounts. It was truly spectacular.

Battle over, we made our way, boat by boat across the river to a landing zone in front of the enormous Men’s House. This is a large building which is home to the bachelors and also where older men pass down cultural traditions, skills and laws. It is the spiritual hub and the store for sacred items, masks, and carvings. At one time they may have kept their enemies’ heads here. The riverbank was slippery and muddy. Getting safely ashore was a bit of a challenge. I got helped up by one of the painted men that, only minutes before, had been waving a spear at me.

The area floods regularly. Most of the buildings are raised on short stilts. Walkways link the buildings together. We wandered around for a short while and looked at some of the craftwork on offer. Asmat art consists of elaborate stylised wood carvings and is designed to honour ancestors. Many Asmat artifacts have been collected by the world’s museums. One of the most notable are those found in the Michael C. Rockefeller Collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Michael Rockefeller, 23, member of the ludicrously rich Rockefeller dynasty, disappeared close to where were. He was on an expedition in 1961 collecting art when he vanished in mysterious circumstances. He may have been killed and eaten.

The walkways led us round to the front of the Men’s House where we settled down to watch the dancing for a while. The drums were beating complex rhythms while the dancers gyrated. Everyone was painted. Some of the dancers wore elaborate masks. Eventually, the dancing finished and the locals used the space to lay out more artwork and other goods for sale.

A large tray of sago palm grubs was brought out. These grubs are several centimetres long and considered a delicacy. They were offered live and wriggling. A few brave people tried them. Did not really fancy them myself.

Diane said she wanted to get out of the sun and went to find somewhere to sit down. Everywhere was very crowded, very hot and very noisy. I followed Diane but got delayed by someone who had fainted and was being helped to the floor by two of the expedition team. By the time I caught up with Diane she had fainted as well. Many people were fainting with the heat. Not just the older guests but also perfectly fit looking people and some members of the expedition team. Diane was not looking very well. We decided it would be best to get back to a zodiac which would take us to the ship. This proved to be harder than it should have. The ground was muddy and I was having to hold Diane up. However, the worst part were the people that did not want to relinquish their place in the queue for the boats. Very inconsiderate. We finally got to a boat and with a bit of help, got Diane in. Soon as we pushed off, there was a small, delicious cool breeze. I found some electrolytes that Diane could drink. That helped enormously. Finally, with the spray over the front of the boat, she started to come back to life.

It was still over an hours driving to get back to the ship. Fortunately, about halfway there, we came across another zodiac from the Seabourn Pursuit. They were serving chilled champagne. The perfect antidote for hot afternoon.

How to say “Do not eat your grandparents” in 840 different languages

Papua New Guinea is the most linguistically diverse country in the world. At least 840 languages are spoken. I cannot even begin to imagine how this works. English is the language of commerce and the education system. The primary lingua franca of the country is Tok Pisin (Pidgin). PNG is also a megadiverse country. This is a technical expression. There are just 17 megadiverse countries worldwide and they house most of Earth’s species. Approximately 5% of known living species are in PNG. Approximately a third of these are endemic, not found anywhere else. It is a place of volcanoes and jungles. Barely explored rainforests hiding a myriad of tribes. Each tribe has its own customs, traditions and behaviours. Possibly its own language. Cannibalism was practiced here until recently. Very recently. Perhaps as recently as 2012. There is still an issue with Kuru, a rare, incurable, and fatal neurodegenerative disorder. Deceased family members were traditionally cooked and eaten, which was thought to help free the spirit of the dead. Kuru, a spongiform encephalopathy, is transmitted through infectious prions. These are particularly concentrated in the brain which was traditionally eaten by women and children.

All this verdant jungle requires a lot of rain, most of which was happening on the day we arrived. It was seriously throwing it down. Getting off the ship and into a small minibus was more than enough to get soaked. We were docked alongside in the town of Alotau, the capital of Milne Bay Province, in the far south-east of PNG. 14 minibuses arrived to collect pretty much every guest and take them on a tour. Stepping off the ship was like stepping into a shower. Warm and extremely wet.

First stop was the town market. This was surprisingly interesting. A wide range of fruit and vegetables were on sale. I could recognise most of them but not all. Peanuts, groundnuts, still on their roots. Yams, potatoes, spinach like greens, bananas and tobacco. The tobacco leaves were dried and then plaited into ropes. Various craftwork was on display including many brightly coloured bags, carvings and clothing.

Next stop was the cultural presentation. Fortunately, they had a large, covered area for this. The rain was keeping the temperature and the mosquitoes down. We were given a coconut to drink from. It was all quite comfortable. It was all quite dark as well. Between the grey, sullen sky and the open sided building, there was not much light for taking photographs. We watched some dancers. We watched a demonstration of cooking. As far as I could tell, a woman peeled a potato and put it in a pot. Everybody applauded, nonetheless. There was another demonstration of how to prepare a coconut. I was quite impressed by the demonstration of making fire. Doing this with just two sticks and some coconut husk on such a damp day was no mean feat. There was some more dancing and we were done.

Outside were a few stalls selling local craftwork. There was also a fruit from a palm oil tree just lying on the ground. Palm oil is an edible vegetable oil derived from the reddish pulp of the fruit. Although native to West Africa, it grows very well in PNG. Palm oil is the most efficient oil crop to produce, yielding 6–10 times more oil per hectare than alternatives like soybean or sunflower. Most of the world’s palm oil comes from Indonesia but it is gaining traction in PNG.

A stop at a local viewpoint was cancelled because of the lack of a view. We did stop at the war memorial. The battle of Milne Bay is commemorated. This was the first serious Japanese defeat in the Pacific part of WW2. Back at the ship there was a terrible queue to get back on board. I wandered off and found some Pacific Swallows sitting on a gutter. Then it started raining again. I photographed some rain and then went back on board.

That was it for Papau New Guinea. I think this is probably a truly fascinating place. Hot, uncomfortable and full of malaria, but still interesting. Sadly, our trip moves on so one soggy day is our lot.

Iridescent blue holes, a sunken ship and yet more fish

Espiritu Santoe is the largest island in Vanuatu. It supports a population of 37,000. The only real town is Luganville, which is where we docked in the morning. During World War II, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, the island was used by American naval and air forces. It became a large military supply and support base for a few years. The SS President Coolidge was a converted luxury liner carrying 5,000 troops. It hit a sea mine coming into the harbour area because nobody thought to mention that two of the three entry channels had been mined. The skipper ran the ship aground to avoid capsize or sinking and all but two hands were saved. The shipwreck is now a popular diving spot. Further up the coast is a place where the Americans dumped most of their used military and naval equipment. This is now also a scuba diving site known as Million Dollar Point. In highly fictionalised form, this island is the location of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific.

Vanuatu has more freshwater blue waterholes than any other place in the world. Found hidden amongst the lush emerald rainforest, these iridescent blue holes are a direct result of Vanuatu’s unique geology. When it rains, water from the islands’ volcanic mountains flows underground into limestone caves, which corrodes the limestone and creates underground streams. Eventually, these streams resurface as freshwater springs, or what we know as the blue holes. The waters in these blue holes are incredibly clear, creating a dazzling luminescent effect that seems almost too perfect to be natural. That is what the guidebook says. We joined a group to go have a look at one.

A twenty-minute drive in a tiny minibus brought us to a bridge over a river. Here we got into canoes. Four people to a canoe with a man to paddle at the back. We did not have to do anything. Just sit there. The trip took about ten minutes. I quite enjoyed it. Floating along on clear, fresh water through dense, rich jungle. I didn’t see any birds or animals although we could hear birds. We arrived at the blue hole. A platform had been built around one side and this is where we got out. The water here is great for swimming. It is clear, clean spring water. Cool but not cold. Diane and I had brought our snorkelling gear but I think Diane was put off by the temperature of the water. I thought it was perfect and jumped straight in.

We had spotted a couple of small fish as we had come up the river. However, I was quite surprised at how much fish life there was when I started to look. Once I got away from the platform, where everyone was swimming and splashing around, there were a lot of fish. Big ones, small ones and flat ones. Underneath the overhangs and where trees were dipping into the water. Deeper down, I came across a whole big shoal of fish. No idea what any of them are. Google appears to struggle with these. It comes up with answers that do not seem confident. There are fish experts on the ship but they are hard to find during the day. Most of the fish can live in freshwater and seawater. I had a good half hour swimming around. We were all called out of the water. A short walk brought us back to the microbuses.

It was only lunchtime when we arrived at the ship. Still a few hours before we sailed. So, we got together with Philip and Susan and went to hire a taxi. We had no idea where we could go or what it would cost. A gang of taxi drivers converged on us. They were all waving sheets with pictures of potential destinations and they were all talking, loudly, at the same time. Many of the destinations were impractically far away but we eventually came up with an idea. After much discussion, we settled on a destination and a driver and a price that was less than the replacement value of a new car.

First stop was a petrol station where our driver bought fuel for the trip. We were only going a few kilometres so he only filled up with a couple of litres. On the map we had chosen a roughly circular trip with a short excursion along a spit of land. What we discovered was not a road but a very rough track. The driver very slowly and carefully made his way around all the potholes. The noise was terrible. He explained that a hubcap was loose. The reality was that the vehicle’s suspension was completely shot. We made it to the spit of land. It was private property and we could not go far. We stopped to look at some beach and I took photographs of a lad fishing. He had a weighted net which he would throw into the water and then gather back in. Back in the taxi we arrived at a large pothole full of water. Our driver did not want to tackle this. We turned round and headed back.

That was it for Vanuatu. Now we had three sea days as we headed for Papua New Guinea.

How to conquer fear and prove your manhood

While we were having lunch, the Seabourne Pursuit repositioned a short distance. We dropped anchor just off the Vanuatu island of Pentecost. A short zodiac ride brought us to the grey, volcanic beach. We were welcomed warmly and then got to sit around for a while until everyone had arrived. We were all here to watch the Land Diving (Nanggol). Boys and men jumping off wooden towers up to 30 m high. They have two tree vines wrapped around their ankles. These are just the right length so that, if all goes correctly, the jumper just grazes the ground with their shoulder.

A tight rope walker appeared. He was rather good. A vine had been set up a few metres above everyone’s heads. He walked along the rope. Walked backwards, turned around and balanced on one foot. That part of the entertainment concluded, we were herded up a fairly steep grassy slope. Benches had been set up around the base of the tower. I spotted a shady area a little further up the slope which looked ideal for taking a few photographs while staying out of the sun. As I made my way up there, I was stopped by one of the expedition team. “Are you part of the Image Masters group?”. No, I wasn’t. Image Masters is an optional Seabourn program. If you sign up, the ship’s photographer will spend time with you to help improve your skills. This had initially piqued my interest until I spotted the eye-watering cost. Anyhow, the shady spot under the tree was apparently reserved for these acolytes. Now, I am fairly sure Seabourn paid handsomely for us to attend the land diving. However, they did not actually purchase the hill and this was a public event. I explained this to the team member in terms that were much more polite than I was feeling. In the interests of keeping the peace, I did not go any further. Later, I noticed many people choosing to ignore the Seabourn rules. I also discovered that it was not the ideal position because of the way the cloud and sun were working and I went elsewhere.

The dancing, drumming and chanting started. A large group of people on the hill to the side of the tower. Rhythmically stepping from side to side. Many of the men had sticks like spears or javelins. The women held colourful bunches of variegated leaves. The divers were all up here and part of the dance. So were quite a few other people and the women. The sound of the drums and the chants rang out clearly across the hillside.

The origin story for Nanggol begins with a woman. She disliked her husband’s behaviour and ran off into the forest to hide. A vagueness surrounds the source of her dissatisfaction; however, she was definitely fed up of him. Her husband followed so she climbed a tall banyan tree. He climbed after her. She tied vines around her ankles and jumped back down. Her husband jumped after her but did not tie lianas to himself. Because of this oversight, he plummeted to his death. In respect for the escaping wife, the women of the tribe created the sport of land diving. The husbands, however, were not comfortable with seeing their wives in such positions, so they took the sport for themselves. Later, specifically designed wooden towers replaced the tree. The men continue to perform land diving so that they would not be tricked again

The nanggol ritual is associated with the yam harvest. It is performed annually in April or May. A good dive helps ensure a bountiful yam harvest. It is believed that land diving can enhance the health and strength of the divers. A successful dive can remove any illnesses and physical problems associated with the wet season. Also, land diving is considered a sign of masculinity It demonstrates the boldness of the warrior. Men who do not choose to dive or back out of diving are humiliated as cowards.

The time of yam harvest is significant because tower construction is best done during the dry season. The lianas have the best elasticity during this time. In 1974, Queen Elizabeth II came to see the spectacle of nanggol in the middle of the wet season. The villagers were persuaded to jump anyhow but the vines were not elastic enough. One diver snapped both lianas, hit the ground hard and broke his back. He later died in hospital

During the period of preparation for nanggol, the men seclude themselves from the women and refrain from sex. Women are not allowed to go near the tower. The spirit of the original woman who dived off the banyan tree still lives in the tower. She may seek vengeance, leading to the death of a diver. The men often prepare for their possible death. They will conclude any unsettled business or disputes. The night before the jump, they sleep beneath the tower to ward off evil spirits. The men must not wear any lucky charms during the dive.

The ritual begins with the least experienced jumpers on the lower platforms and ends with the most experienced jumpers on the upper platforms. This means that the first person to jump, before a large and expectant crowd, is a young boy. For boys, land diving is a rite of passage. After circumcision at about 7 years old, they can participate in the ritual. When a boy is ready to become a man, he performs nanggol in the presence of his elders.

The first lad to jump was obviously very nervous. He did well. After a couple of shy hand waves at the crowd, he hopped off the platform and landed nicely. This got him a round of applause. The next lad was equally nervous and had to jump from a higher platform. Each time somebody jumps, the platform on which they were standing collapses to help break the fall. So, each successive jump is higher than the last. Then came a lad who could not do it. He looked completely terrified. I felt sorry for him. It reminded me of at least one occasion when I was very young and very scared. After a long pause he climbed back down. I hope he was not treated too badly.

The construction of the tower takes several weeks. Up to thirty men help build it. They cut trees to construct the body, clear a site for the tower, and remove rocks from the soil. Several platforms stick out 2 m from the front of the tower, supported by several struts. During the jump, the platform supports snap, causing the platform to hinge downward and absorb some of the force from falling. Vines are selected by a village elder and matched with each diver’s weight. The vines need to be supple, elastic, and full of sap in order to be safe. The ends of the vines are shredded to allow the fibres to be looped around the ankles of the jumpers. If the vine is too long, the diver will hit the ground hard. If the vine is too short, the diver might collide with the tower.

Before dawn on the day of the ceremony, the men undergo a ritual wash. They anoint themselves with coconut oil and decorate their bodies. Men wear nambas. A traditional Vanuatu penis sheath. We had already encountered the chiefs wearing nambas in the morning. The two tribes on Malakula (2^nd largest island in Vanuatu) are called the Big Nambas and the Small Nambas. They are named for the size of their nambas. Women wear traditional grass skirts and go bare-breasted. Only the men are allowed to dive, but the dancing women provide mental support.

In the mid-nineteenth century, missionaries came to Vanuatu and persuaded the natives to stop land diving. Being missionaries, their tactics for persuasion were probably very direct and unsubtle. By the 1970s the missionaries had gone off to annoy someone else and a righteous anti-colonialism spirit was arising. Nanggol is now seen as a way to demonstrate and reinforce cultural identity.

I moved to the other side of the seating area to get a better view. Each successive jumper was getting older, more experienced and higher up the tower. Each successive jump was more serious. Finally, we got to the very last jump. Right from the highest point of the tower. It was impressive. A long, long way to fall. Must take nerves of steel and the confidence of conviction in the tower, the vines and all the preparation. After a wave at the crowd, he clasped his hands across his chest, leant forward and pitched headfirst off the platform. It really was a long way to fall. I had time for several photographs as he plunged towards the ground. The was a snap from the platform and then the whole tower whipped forwards. He touched the ground and then was pulled into the soft soil below the tower. A perfect jump.

You may have noticed a similarity between nanggol and bungee jumping. The first modern bungee jumps were made in 1979 from the 76 m Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol. The students, Kirke and Keeling of the Oxford University Dangerous Sports Club, came up with the idea after discussing the “vine jumping” ritual of Vanuatu. Organised commercial bungee jumping began with the New Zealander, Hackett, who made his first jump from Auckland’s Greenhithe Bridge in 1986. Since then, bungee jumping has become a world-wide, lucrative business. The cultural appropriation has never been recognised or compensated for. In 1995, the people of Pentecost Island, with the support of Vanuatu’s attorney-general declared that they would endeavour to get royalties from bungee jumping enterprises because they viewed the tradition as stolen. I have no idea whether anything ever came of this.

With that we were done. The jumping had taken all afternoon. Everyone made their way back to the beach. The sun was starting to set as we headed back to the ship.

Hypnotic rhythms and deadly volcanoes

Another sea day and we have arrived at the Vanuatu island of Ambrym. The island is roughly triangular. 50 km wide. The centre of the land mass is dominated by a 12 km wide caldera containing two lava lakes. The caldera was formed around AD 50 by one of the largest volcanic explosions in recent geological history. Several times a century, Ambrym volcano has destructive eruptions. It is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. The island is also a particularly important bird conservation area. There are many rare, special and endemic bird species here. This all sounded extremely exciting and interesting. As we approached, I was scanning the volcanic cone for signs of smoke or other activity.

We went ashore to watch the locals perform a dance.

The Rom Dance of Ambrym is a sacred, ancient ceremony performed by men in elaborate banana-leaf costumes. The tall, conical masks represent ancestral spirits. They become the ancestors and must be burned afterwards because they contain the powerful spirits of the dead. Ambrym is considered to be the black magic epicentre of Vanuatu. This dance is a ritual that tells stories of good versus evil and is traditionally connected to yam harvests and initiation rites, such as circumcision. The ceremony honours ancestors and wards off evil spirits. The dancers are completely covered in banana leaves and wear brightly painted masks. It is a pulsating, hypnotic dance using highly repetitive drum rhythms.

Off to one side were a group of women dancers. The Rom dance is men only. It is fierce and war like. However, since we were also being welcomed to the village, the women were dancing their own thing underneath a large tree.

Tamtam drums are massive wooden slit drums. Made from a hollowed-out hardwood tree trunk with sealed ends and a longitudinal slit. They are struck with a short, solid drumstick. Technically, these are not drums because they lack a membrane stretched across the top. They are idiophones, where the entire instrument vibrates. On most islands of Vanuatu, the drum has little to no decoration. It is played horizontally on the ground. On Ambrym the drums are set vertically into the ground. They are decorated with faces representing ancestral figures. The distinctive shape of these large eyed figures has become iconic of Vanuatu as a whole and is represented on their banknotes.

The ceremony is considered a profound and rare experience, often regarded as one of the most significant traditional performances in Melanesia. Not quite volcanoes and rare birds but sometimes you just need to make the best of what is available.

We were arranged around the edge of a performance area where we sat on rough benches. It took the best part of an hour for everyone to be ferried ashore and helped up the short walk to the arena. Eventually, we were all ready and then the drums started. I quite liked the monotonous rhythm of the drums. The dancers very slowly danced their way into the arena. Village chiefs, wearing almost nothing, formed a group in the centre. Costumed and masked dancers surrounded them. Everybody was swaying to the incessant beat of the drums and stomping their feet. The ground vibrated with the rhythms.

The dance went on for a long time. It went through several phases but I have no idea of the meaning of each section. Eventually, the dance finished and we were invited to photograph the dancers and the chiefs. However, we were given a strict warning to avoid touching the dancers, the masks, the costumes or the drums. In fact, we were not even to get too close to them. The dance had awakened ancient spirits that were now in the costumes and masks. Extremely dangerous. As soon as the photographs were finished the dancers slipped away. Even before we had walked back down to the beach, the dancers were busy burning the costumes, masks and everything. The big drums are not burnt but they are treated with respect and nobody touches them until the next dance.

On the beach was a small band playing cheerful music. A few vendors were selling local craft items. Fruit and coconuts were being handed out for refreshments. We ate some pomelo. A large grapefruit like citrus fruit. Extremely sweet, juicy and with a fantastic taste. We see them in the UK supermarkets occasionally. Unfortunately, by the time they have arrived in Todmorden, they are a dried up, tasteless, sad reflection of the real thing.

We headed back to the ship for lunch. Diane had found two small children that she wanted to adopt. Unfortunately, they were not allowed onto the zodiac because they did not have lifejackets.

After lunch, I heard on the radio that three tourists had tragically died on an Indonesian volcano when it erupted. They were part of a group that, ignoring local advice, were hiking in a restricted area close to the crater rim. The eruption was expected. It had been building for days. The locals were anticipating that it would be a big one and it was. Many people were rescued from around the volcano. It seems likely that others are missing. They sneak into an area that has been closed because it is dangerous. They do not tell anyone where they are going with their drones and cameras. It can be difficult to account for them later.

Fascinating fish, intriguing coral and hidden venom

Next day was the end of another leg. We hauled in at Lautoka, Fiji’s second largest city. The morning was spent getting one set of passengers off the ship. In the afternoon, a different set of passengers was embarked. Meanwhile, those of us that were continuing the voyage, the in transit passengers, were sent off on a trip to get us out of the way. It was not a great trip. We have done some coach trips that set the bar low and this one was right down there. We were driven to a marina. Given some fruit. Shown how to open a coconut. Driven to a shop and finally brought back to the ship. This was stretched over nearly four hours. The shop, a multi-floor upmarket emporium, was aimed exclusively at tourists to the extent that prices were all in US dollars.

Now the ship was full of strangers again. We spent much of the afternoon doing safety drills, listening to safety briefings and generally being bombarded with information that we had already received twice before. Outside, big black stormy clouds were brewing. Rainy squalls were all around us.

Next morning we were intending a landing at another small Fijian village called Nabukeru. This time the weather was against us. For the most part, we have been remarkably lucky with the weather on this trip. Today it did not work out for Nabukeru. The swell and wind were just a bit too much. We repositioned to an alternative landing site on the north coast but this was deemed to be just as bad. A group of locals, meanwhile, had come out in their small boat to see what we were messing around at. They were bouncing around in their small white boat without any care for the sea state or wind. They shouted “Bula” to us in loud, cheerful voices. This is the Fijian greeting. Often delivered as an explosive shout with wide open arms. All to no avail though. We waved them goodbye and headed all the way back to our landing site of two days previously close to the village of Yasawairara. Here there was better shelter from the land and we could finally put the zodiacs out.

The rest of the day was just about hanging around the beach and the village. For Diane and I, it meant two more snorkelling trips. While many others were lying on the beach or buying souvenirs in the village, we were in the water.

The visibility had improved a little. This helped with the photography. I had found a setting to do with focusing. This helped as well. Unfortunately, I also managed to put the camera in a low-resolution jpeg mode. This did not help. Once you are in the water, it is a bit late to start messing with settings. It is difficult to see well enough for this, so I just tend to assume (hope) everything is set correctly and off we go. Since then I have been studying the manual some more. Partly to help get the right setup but also to find a way to lock everything so that I cannot inadvertently mess it all up when I jump I the water.

My ability to identify fish is still woefully inadequate. Like with bird identification, Google helps a lot. There are also some fish experts on the ship. One thing I have learned, is to not touch things underwater. There are many reasons for this. Much of the coral is quite fragile and also has sharp edges. Possibly worse than this however, are the wide variety of poisonous creatures. The Lined Surgeon fish looks very nice. Bright colours. Easy to spot. Very photogenic. But possesses sharp, venomous spines, or “scalpels,” located on both sides of its tail base for defence against predators.

There was a wide variety of fish on the reef. And a wide variety of corals. I know even less about corals than fish. Corals, somewhat surprisingly, are animals. Although they look like plants or rocks and are sessile (fixed in one spot), they are, in fact, animals. Individual corals have a stomach, mouth and tentacles used for capturing food and defending themselves. They also have a symbiotic relationship with algae. The algae live in the tissue of the polyps and provide oxygen and food (glucose, glycerol, amino acids) through photosynthesis. This process also gives the coral its vivid colours. Over thousands of years, the calcium carbonate skeletons of the coral polyps build up to form reefs. Some of which are enormous.

I saw several schools of yellowfin goatfish. During the day, they often form large, inactive schools for protection. This is great. They stay still so that you can photograph them.

Chevron butterflyfish are very pretty. They feed almost exclusively on the polyps and mucus of the corals.

Surgeonfish are generally herbivores that consume turf algae. They are often found grazing on coral and rocks.

Doublebar Goatfish have a big spot around their eye – making them look like they have big eyes.

A school of Indian Mackerel swept in. These are strange looking fish. They are a reasonable size (20 – 30 cm) and were swimming in a school of 30 or more. They were moving fast and my first impression was that they had plastic bags on their heads. On closer inspection, they were swimming with their mouths open. These fish are ram feeders. They swim with their mouths wide open to strain plankton and macroplankton from the water using their gill rakers.

Lying on a patterned section of coral was a lizardfish. These are ambush predatory feeders. Normally they camouflage themselves against the sea floor. This one apparently did not realise that on the regularly patterned coral, it stood out like a sore thumb.

Finally, there was a sabre squirrelfish. These are nocturnal and this particular one was hiding in a hole. I waited patiently for it to come out. Good job I did not reach in for it. They have small spines that secrete venom for protection. While not deadly to humans, their stings can be painful. Do not touch things underwater.

Cultural presentations, fish and the danger of being keel hauled

Lomaloma is a small village on Fijian island of Vanua Balavu. We arrived there just after lunch and got ferried ashore by zodiac. A tour of the village consisted of walking down the small main road to the post office. Then we looked at the church, the hospital and the school and came back for the cultural presentation. I often find these presentations a little tricky. This one began with sharing Kava. A few of the onlookers were singled out to sit cross-legged and drink out of the coconut cup. Kava is a mildly psychoactive local drink used as a welcoming ceremony. Next the children were pushed in front of us. Along with a begging bowl. The children were made to sing a song while the Americans donated money via the begging bowl. Diane and I headed back to the ship fairly soon after this and then I received a call.

I am in trouble. I am on the naughty step. I am standing outside the headmaster’s study. I have been summoned by Guest Services to the Hotel Manager’s office. The Hotel Manager is tall with white hair and is clearly a wizard. The assistant captain is also there. He is young, small and sports a prominent ginger beard. I don’t know his name. In my mind, he is Gloin Redbeard. Gandalf rather cryptically tells me this is not about yesterday’s incident. So why am I here? The incident has been reported and logged. Someone’s version has been logged. Gloin reads me the rules concerning zodiac operations and the importance of holding hands. I wholeheartedly agree while wondering if the crew member received a reminder to let go of guest’s arms. We all shake hands and I am allowed to leave. I still don’t know if the offence was that I arrived in the boat with someone still attached to my arm, or calling them a dollop, or both. But I am free. I have escaped keel hauling, flogging, walking the plank or being turned into a newt. Time for a celebratory drink.

Next day, we were moored off from the wonderfully named Yasawairara, another small Fijian island village. Yet again, we were all invited ashore for a walking tour and a cultural presentation. This time it went much better. Straight out of the zodiac, I met an island chief called Prince Philip. He shared with me a large cup of Kava. It made my tongue slightly numb and tingly. The walk around the village was slightly more interesting. There were some goats on a rock. We skipped the dancing part of the presentation and went snorkelling.

The expedition team had set up two zodiacs. We could snorkel between them by following a reef wall. This was up to 10 m deep and included a wide range of different types of coral.

The water was often a lot deeper than we had experienced before. This was fun but made photography difficult. Visibility was not so good either. Photographing fish is not so straightforward. I am used to looking at a scene through a viewfinder. Now I need to watch a small screen on the back of a camera, through goggles that are typically a bit misted up. Fish are twitchy, nervous things that vanish at the slightest movement. I end up stalking them. Hanging motionless in the water in the hope that they will ignore me and get on with their fishy lives.

I am also having to learn how to use a new camera. Like most cameras, this has a myriad of complex settings. It does not seem very practical to start messing with the camera controls in the water. I spend some time reading the manual. Then try fiddling with a few settings. Jump into the water and see what happens. Fortunately, we have quite a few more opportunities for snorkelling on this trip. Hopefully, this will be enough for me to get the hang of it.

Lush plants, colourful fish and the dollop incident

Tonga is a Polynesian kingdom of more than 170 South Pacific islands, many uninhabited, most lined in white beaches and coral reefs and covered with tropical rainforest. 45 are inhabited supporting a population of 100,000. It is a constitutional monarchy. They have a real king. King Tupou VI. There is also a strong democratic movement but like most kings – he does not want to go. The monarchy has taken criticism for some bad decisions including, in the 1990s, when Topou IV considered increasing national revenue by allowing Tonga to be used as a nuclear waste dump. There was also a scheme to register foreign ships which came unstuck when the ships were shown to be engaged in illegal activities, including shipments for al-Qaeda. Male homosexuality is illegal. The economy has a large nonmonetary sector and a heavy dependence on remittances from the half of the country’s population who live abroad. The royal family and the nobles dominate and largely own the monetary sector of the economy. Especially the telecommunications and satellite services. Tonga was named the sixth-most corrupt country in the world by Forbes magazine in 2008. Tonga has one of the highest obesity rates in the world. Tourism is relatively undeveloped although the government see potential and are trying to encourage it.

Cruise ships visit the Vava’u island group occasionally for whale watching. We dropped anchor outside of Neiafu, the second-largest town in Tonga, population 4,000. It is the wrong time of year for whales so instead we were bussed to a botanical garden. The garden looked to me like an area that had just been allowed to grow wild although there were signs nailed to a few trees. It was hot, humid and the mosquitoes were biting.

We wandered around for a while. There were a few interesting plants and an impressive spider. Everything seemed very lush and green. The plants enjoy this weather even if I don’t.

After half an hour or so and three laps around the garden, we were taken down to a building on the beach. Here, we were given some fresh fruit and there was a cultural presentation. It was not very good. We were so crowded into the small, wooden building that it was difficult to see what was going on. There were dancing girls but even so I wandered off down to the beach to photograph some birds.

Back to the ship for an early lunch. We clambered onto the zodiacs from a concrete jetty so there was no need to get wet. It was a very easy two steps down into the boat. Even so, there were five expedition team members helping guests onto the boat. You are required to hold their arms in a fisherman’s grip and follow their instructions. A few guests are quite challenged in the mobility department and essentially get manhandled into place. As I stepped onto the boat, in the approved fashion, one of the people holding my arm forgot to let go. I don’t know if they were daydreaming, gossiping or what but the effect was to swing me around as I arrived in the zodiac. Nothing bad happened. I caught my balance and sat down. I did however remonstrate about hanging onto to me unnecessarily and called the offender a dollop. This was to have consequences.

The ship was repositioned to a nearby, uninhabited island and we went snorkelling. It was only a small island which sported a tiny, brilliantly white beach. Looks lovely but bits of broken coral can shred your feet if you are not careful.

Diane’s confidence at snorkelling is growing all the time. We jumped into the water without any messing around. Just past the beach, the water got quite deep. We could follow the slope around the island. Here there were masses of coral and many fish.

I keep thinking I should try and learn the names of a few more fish. The reality is that I am quite happy looking at them as if we were swimming in a giant fish tank. It is also fun to try and photograph them. It still feels strange to be operating a camera underwater. I keep expecting it to pack up at any moment.

There were several blue star fish, some sea cucumbers, a few clams and some feather stars. These are curious creatures. Look a little like a type of plant but they are actually more of a star fish. They can, if the urge takes them, detach from the coral and swim around.

We spotted a few Moorish Idol. A distinctive yellow and black fish. It is popular in marine aquariums although notoriously difficult to keep because it is a fussy eater.

In the evening I saw a flying fox.

I have found shocking new proof that Jesus smoked spliff

Samoa is another island country. This time just four islands, two of which are uninhabited. 200,000 people live on the other islands. We arrived at the capital and largest city of Apia at the north of Upolu Island. We docked at a place that was called the cruise terminal. However, it looked just like any working cargo port to me. No facilities for passengers but a lot of containers piled up all around the place.

As is the way, we were loaded into a variety of local buses and sent off on a tour. My first concern was as to how our driver could see where he was going. The windscreen was plastered in little mirrors, numerous silhouettes of curvaceous women, brightly coloured fluffy material and a variety of certificates and notices. To see the road, he needed to squint through the remaining, small gaps. I hoped that his utterly enormous bright green gear stick helped in some way.

First stop was the cathedral. We got there without hitting anything. The church was a moderately simple wooden building. Smartly painted in white and blue. Adorned with many intricate stained-glass windows. I was impressed by one design in particular. There, sat amongst the disciples was a Samoan. You could tell he was Samoan from the traditional tattoos. He was looking very relaxed. Laid back, eyes partially closed. Very comfortable. He holds a fan to keep cool and is smoking a big, fat doobie. This explains much that is conventionally considered supernatural. Photograph from Susan. Thank you.

Then we got dropped off at the vegetable market and told we had an hour. It was a little over 30°C and extremely humid. Not the ideal conditions for spending an hour looking at vegetables but we gave it a go. Because of variations in altitude, the farmers can cultivate a broad range of tropical and subtropical crops. Many of these were on offer in the market. Taro used to be a major source of income for Samoa. A fungal blight devastated the plants in 1993. From a peak of 50%, taro now accounts for less than 1% of export revenue. The roots can be roasted or boiled. Other tables were laden with coconuts, papaya, avocado and citrus fruits. There were bananas still growing upwards from their stalks and prickly skinned soursop. This has an aromatic pulp used to make healthy juices, smoothies and ice cream.

It took about half an hour before the heat and humidity combined with the excitement of raw vegetables was getting to be too much for us. Back at the small, grubby bus we found most of the other members of our group taking advantage of the air conditioning. It was not especially cool in the bus but it was better than sitting outside. Since everyone had come back early, we left early to head up to the museum.

This was the Robert Louis Stevenson museum. After writing Kidnapped and Treasure Island he came here at the end of the 19th century for his lung health. It did not work and a few years later, at just 44 years old, he dropped dead in his purpose-built smoking room. We were shown around a replica of his bed, his wife’s bed, his mother’s bed and somebody else’s bed. We were also shown the only two fireplaces in Samoa. At 30°C it was easy to understand why fireplaces are not really needed. Quite possibly, neither of these have ever been lit but they do provide an nice, homely feel for a family originating in Scotland.

Round the back of the museum a seating area had been set up so that we could watch a cultural presentation. This started with a guided description of the tattoos on the back and legs of a large local lad. Then came the music and the dancing which involved a lot of shouting. The details were all meticulously recorded by a veritable army of phone wielding tourists.

Back at the ship, we had a few hours before departure, so we went snorkelling. It was only a few minutes’ walk to a small beach. We were charged $5 each to enter one of the smallest, least impressive beach areas I have ever visited. I have not visited many beaches. There may well be many worse. Diane opted out of getting into the water. The approach was steep and rocky. Great scope for minor injury or worse. I carefully picked my way down to the water and played with the new camera for half an hour. There were quite a few fish around and after much searching I manged to find some coral.

We were comfortably back on board before the ship sailed. A tug escorted us out. I doubt the Seabourne Pursuit, our ship, needs a tug. However, I imagine that port rules need to be followed and the tug probably needs the money. As the sun began setting, Samoa receded into the distance and Tonga was calling.

Ruminating on the irrational fear of coconuts while in a country of islands

The Cook Islands are a group of 15 islands, population 15,000, forming an island country. The country is self-governing while in free association with New Zealand. This means that New Zealand acts on their behalf in foreign affairs and defence issues but only when requested by the Cook Islands government and with their advice and consent. Cook Islands has no armed forces but the Police Service owns a patrol boat provided by Australia. The government is a unitary parliamentary constitutional monarchy. King Charles III is their monarch but I don’t imagine he has much say in island affairs. Maybe just pops in occasionally for a cheap holiday.

The economy is based on tourism. They advertise the country as an affordable, exotic South Pacific archipelago with no crowds. No building is taller than a coconut tree. There are no high-rise hotels, traffic-lights or stop signs. Just unspoiled natural beauty; lagoons ringed by stunning coral reefs teaming with life, isolated beaches, rainforests, waterfalls, caves, unique bird life, and so much more.

We anchored outside the reef at Aitutaki Island. Diane and I went ashore by zodiac and had a short walk. It was hot. A bit too hot for me. We wandered up the road for half an hour and then took refuge from the sun at a table by the beach. The road was not particularly interesting. There were a few small shops and houses. All widely spaced with well kept gardens. Many of the gardens contained graves. Some of which were quite elaborate. I imagined children being told to go out and play by their great-grandparents. The beach was much more interesting. There were some birds fishing along the shore. Little crabs were running around. They rushed to hide down holes in the sand if you went anywhere near them. We went back along the sand under the shade from coconut palms. Carefully, of course, to avoid danger from falling coconuts.

A full-sized coconut weighs about 1.5 kg. If one fell on your head, it would probably hurt. Following a 1984 study on “Injuries Due to Falling Coconuts by Dr. Peter Barss “, exaggerated claims spread concerning the number of fatalities by falling coconuts. By the early 2000s, the urban legend of death by coconut had grown to 200+ fatalities per year. Barss was awarded an Ig Noble Award for his work. A press release from Club Travel, a UK-based travel insurance company, selling travel insurance for Papua New Guinea, stated that coconuts were “ten times more dangerous than sharks”. The truth is that occasionally, rarely more than once a year, people do get killed by coconuts. Sometimes it is their own fault. In Pennsylvania, a man died while trying to crack open a coconut with the butt end of a loaded revolver. The gun discharged and he got shot in the abdomen.

We arrived back at the docks unscathed. In the afternoon was a snorkelling trip. I grabbed my new camera, Diane grabbed a blue pool noodle and we were good to go. After transferring to a local boat, we were taken out into a large lagoon. Here we made a brief landing on Honeymoon Island to admire the white sand. Looked nice but was made of broken coral so it was sharp and unpleasant to touch. A short way offshore we went snorkelling off the boat.

This time my photographic efforts were a little more productive. There was plenty to photograph. Big lumps of coral reef interspersed with giant clams on the seabed. The clams look amazing and often have intricate patterns on the mantle parts. Giant clams are bi-valve filter-feeders. However much of their nutritional needs are supplied by zooxanthellae. These are photosynthetic single-celled organisms that live in symbiosis with the clam. Around the edge of the mantle are primitive eyes. The clams can weigh over 200 kg and live for more than 100 years.

I also spent a lot of time looking at fish. Small fish all around the reef. Some are actually eating the reef. Some eat other fish. Some eat parasites off other fish. Some eat algae. The reef is a whole complex ecosystem. The fish come in all shapes and sizes. Some are quite shy and hide in the reef. Others are very bold and in your face. I am trying to learn the names of some of these fish but it is a steep learning curve. All too soon we were back in the boat. I usually wear shorts and a t-shirt for snorkelling. By the time we were back on board, half an hour later, my clothes were completely dry.

Nasty black pearl secrets and why real vanilla is so expensive

Raʻiātea is the second largest of the Society Islands, after Tahiti, in French Polynesia. We arrived there early in the morning and tied up along side a large quay. After breakfast everyone came out to mill around on the dockside for a while before we were herded into groups. Our flock was shepherded round the corner to a small, local boat. Our new captain introduced himself and then sang to us while he guided the boat to a medium sized island. Then we got into some 4×4 vehicles and were taken to a black pearl farm.

They showed us how they make the pearls. Take a mature, black-lipped oyster and kill it to remove some of the mantle tissue. Take a freshwater scallop from the Mississippi, kill it and send it to Japan. They will reduce it to small, round, smooth beads which get sent to Tahiti. Take another local, black-lipped oyster but try not to kill this one. Instead, prise it open a little bit. Make a cut into its sex-gland and insert the bead from Japan along with the tissue from the donor oyster. The nacre that the gland secretes will cover the nucleus and form the pearl. Takes about two years during which time the oyster lives in an underwater rack. Finally, you can kill the oyster and retrieve the pearl. Inspect the pearl and hope it is a good one. This is Tahiti’s $10m black pearl business. Seems a cruel and unnecessary vanity to me however the number of people worldwide that will pay handsomely to decorate their necks with oyster gonad growths is enormous.

Next came a vanilla pod plantation. This was far more pleasant. The pods come from a type of orchid which grows as a vine. Measured by weight, vanilla is the world’s second-most expensive spice after saffron. Growing vanilla seed pods is particularly labour-intensive. At this plantation, the vines were grown up small trees. Each flower must be pollinated by hand. This can only be done in the early hours of the morning when the flowers open for about an hour. The plantation is carefully controlled for moisture, nutrients and pests. Other types of trees and a lot of manual labour are used to create the correct balance.

Artificial vanilla products contain vanillin. This is produced synthetically from lignin, a natural polymer found in wood. Synthetic vanillin is a byproduct from the pulp used in papermaking. The lignin is broken down using sulphates. Vanillin is only one of 171 identified aromatic components of real vanilla fruits and a poor substitute for the genuine thing. Diane voluntarily tested the veracity of this statement by eating a pot of genuine vanilla ice cream.

The tour went on. We were driven up to a viewpoint and fed some fresh fruit. On the way we saw avocado trees, various citrus trees, mango, papaya, the ubiquitous coconut palms and many other plants. It rains a lot here. Most days apparently. And it is hot. Pushing 30°C most days. The plant growth is lush and verdant. Our captain magically reappeared at the top of the hill. He whipped out his small guitar and proceeded to teach everyone to dance. Fortunately, for me, this did not last too long. Then we were off back to the coast and his small boat.

Last part of the trip was some snorkelling. This was particularly exciting because I had a new toy, the underwater camera, to play with. We were taken out close to the edge of the reef by a small island. On the island was a bit of a resort with deck chairs and a bar. However, we did not go there. We simply stopped several hundreds of metres away and got in the water. Thirty minutes later I had taken a lot of photographs and encountered a Tahitian stingray. I know little about rays but I did spot a long tail with a spike which I suspected, correctly, was venomous. I gave it a wide berth. Later I looked through my photographs and was a bit disappointed. I was not despondent though. There was bound to be a learning process.

Eventually, we were back on the ship and sailing away. The sunset was gorgeous. Gorgeous but quick. This close to the equator, once you notice the sun beginning to set, there are only minutes before it has actually set and darkness falls. I grabbed some pictures of the beach and vegetation in the golden light. Another cruise ship, the Star Breeze, passed us on the way to occupy our recently vacated berth. We were on our way to the Cook Islands.