New Month, New Experiences, New Love, New Zealand!

New Zealand didn’t start well.  I’ll be honest.  I lost my phone.  Somewhere in Christchurch there is a taxi driver whose back seat ate my phone.  True story.  Nevertheless, New Zealand has made it up to me this past week.  I’m officially head over heels in love.  Let’s start from the very beginning shall we?

Christchurch:

Being our first stop on our kiwi tour, much was expected from young Christchurch.  We were to be slightly disappointed our first day as, in all truthfulness, there isn’t that much there.  The main tourist activity that McCulloch and I wanted to do was the Antarctic centre, so we did.    It was tremendous fun.  You don’t often hear much about the Antarctic, everyone always seems far more interested in the North Pole, so it was interesting to learn some more about the frozen continent that floats so close to New Zealand.  The most entertaining factor of the visit was our trip to the Antarctic itself.  Donned in warm jackets, we headed out into the snow and the beautiful scenary in front of us.  Granted, the ‘beautiful scenary’ was a poster covered wall and the ‘Antarctic’ was a man-made room, but at least the snow was real!  Here we were plunged into the centre of a -18.7 degree wind chill.  Amy declared throughout the whole thing that this was merely ’shorts weather’ (cocky Canadian haha) but I was freezing.  My denim skirt and leggings are apparently not ‘antarctic’ attire and thus I near on froze.  Safe to say I won’t be moving to the antarctic any time soon!

The following day we met up with two of our Oasis family, Jay and Rach, who live in the city.  Playing tour guides for the day, they generously chauffered us up to a look out point over Christchurch, the beach and the arts centre.  We then spent the evening eating and gossiping over a bottle of wine.  It was great to see them and hopefully we will see them again before we leave New Zealand. 

With the arrival of Monday morning, came our departure from Christchurch in our car, ‘Sunny,’ as we headed into the mountains to visit Hammer Springs. 

Hammer Springs:

Hot springs were what attracted us to this mountain location.  The thought of natural hot springs tumbling from the mountains was just too appealing to ignore.  After a brisk morning walk through the cold mountain air, we equipped ourselves with waterproof camera and swimmers and headed to Hammer Springs spa. 

Whilst it was incredibly relaxing and the views were simply breathtaking, it was almost too ‘man-made’ for my liking.  In my mind I had images of naturally formed rock pools with waterfalls of natural hot spring water flowing into them.  The plastic bath-esque tubs were not quite fitting the picture…..but hey, beggars can’t be choosers!  The surroundings were stunning though and more than made up for the slightly ‘touristy’ take on the hot springs.  Sitting outside, in spring water, surrounded by mountains blanketed by tropical rainforest was an amazing sight and in itself made the trip worth while. 

Kaikoura:

Not being ones who like to hang about, Amy and I loved and left Hammer Springs after a day and headed to Kaikoura, where the mountains meet the sea.  Our coastal drive on a clear day was simply breathtaking.  I’ve never seen such views or a sea as turquoise.  This country is beautiful and our coastal drive proved it.  Driving for four hours with such views just isn’t a chore, in fact its more a pleasure and a past time that both Amy and I are enjoying. 

Kaikoura was very, very small but we were there for one reason and one reason only, to drink with Adam and Dave.  Our male counterparts (who we’ve spent time with in every country we’ve been to so far) were meant to be on the North Island, but spent two weeks drinking in Queenstown, managed to cross paths with us once more.  The four of us, before heading to the pub and playing pool, discovered a road/sea side Seafood BBQ where we immersed ourselves in crayfish, scallops, whitebait and other such fish luxuries. 

The following morning however, as much as we do love Adam and Dave, our real reason for visiting Kairkoura descended upon us – our wild dolphin swim.  Granted, at 4.30am in the morning my reaction was ’screw the dolphins.’  Who in their right mind willingly gets up at 4.30am to go swimming the ocean that is freezing in the heat of the day?  Us apparently.  We headed out, decked out in hooded wetsuits, onto the ocean in search of the Dusky Dolphins.  Having been told numerous times that how many we saw depended on the dolphins, we weren’t really expecting much.  If they had any sense they’d be sleeping like we should have been.  But apparently, like Amy and I, dolphins have no sense either.  30 minutes into our journey found ourselves surrounded by the Dusky dolphins, these ‘acrobats of the sea.’  Everywhere we looked there were fins, tails, noses…..there were hundreds of them.  As quickly as we could we all slipped into the water and became part of the dolphin pod.  The experience was unbelievable.  All around us were these dolphins and we were their entertainment.   Singing to them through our snorkles as we had been informed to do, the dolphins were attracted to us and, once you gained eye contact with them, you could swim in a circle with them until you got too dizzy to continue.  A dolphins idea of  a joke I presume.   It was unforgettable….never in my life did I imagine that I would be swimming in the ocean at 6am with over 200 wild dolphins.  Never.  

Abel Tasman:

Journerying from the East Coast to the North West corner of the South Island, we hit Abel Tasman national park.   It was here that Amy, Lofty and I set out on a 7 hour, 20km trek through the national park.  I honestly think it was the closest to death I have ever come.  Seriously.

 We started well.  All of us were full of energy and enthusiasm.  The picture perfect views kept us entertained for the 4 hour part of our hike to Anchorage, our half way point.  An hour previously, we had emerged ourselves in the crystal clear waters of Torrent Bay for a chillax.  The water was freezing, especially compared to 30 degree waters in Australia, but the colour and clearness of it meant it just couldn’t be ignored. 

After Anchorage, the pain hit.  As we had been walking down a hill towards Anchorage beach, I had slipped on some leaves and jarred my already tempermental knee.  It wasn’t happy.  But there was no other way back.  It was the final hour that was the worst.  I knew that if I stopped, even for a second, I would not move again for a very, very long time.  So, I powered on through leaving Amy and Lofty behind.  Finally, I arrived at the finish point and promptly collasped whislt I waited for Lofty and Amy.  Needless to say that night we didn’t do very much at all.   The pain the next day, even two days later, was intense.  I would say the views and beauty made it all worth while….but right now I’m not so sure.  Ask me in a few days. 

Franz Josef Glacier:

Now we are in Glacier country, down the West coast.   This morning, bright and early, Amy and I headed up to Lake Matherson by Mt Cook to photograph ‘the most photographed lake in New Zealand.’  It’s famous for its mirror like reflections of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman behind it.  It truly was spectacular.   Looking at my photos now it is almost hard to tell apart which is the reflection and which is the mountains themselves.  The beauty was nearly overpowering and on more than one occasion forced you to stop dead and simply stare.  The path round the lake was full of motionless tourists struck dumb in awe.  

Tomorrow, Amy and I brave the glaciers.  Due to my knee being unhappy with me, I am only doing a half day, Amy a full.  We’ll let you know how we get on…assuming we aren’t too sore to write. 

First Impressions:

I love this country.  I have been here only a week and already I know that I prefer it 110% to Australia.  Every inch of the New Zealand that we have seen so far is picture perfect and is as close to paradise in so many ways.  I feel at ease here.  The visions around us can literally make you speechless.  Now that is power if ever I saw it. 

The Countdown Begins

The worse thing about falling in love whilst traveling is having to leave.  The relationship begins with an expiry date already in place, a countdown if you will, marking the impending end of something magical.  No matter how much you try to fight it, the countdown continues to tick and there is nothing you can do to stop it. 

I had to leave yet another loved one today, another piece of my rapidly diminishing hearts left behind.  Today was the day I had to say goodbye to Australia.  Yes, our relationship was bumpy, some may even say tempestuous and violent.  Australia didn’t always treat me well, but that doesn’t mean I loved any less.

Now, as I float thousands of feet above the ocean and gaze down on a clear blue canvas, my mind and heart can’t help but reminisce.  It was bound to happen.  You always think of loved ones at moments like this.  Inevitable really.  

Did I really love Australia? Perhaps not on the same scale as Africa, the Orlando Bloom of all countries, but yes, I loved Australia.  You know you’re in love when the visions around you are, at times, powerful enough to bring tears to your eyes; when the memories make you smile, laugh and cry. 

I won’t deny that there weren’t occasions when I felt I had lost my faith.  It’s hard when you get the battering that we did.  But sitting here now, I can’t help but smile.  This simple action alone makes me realise that weather is weather.  You can still make memories and fall in love over stormy waters.  No weather front is strong enough to destroy that hope, that chance, that feeling. 

The harbours of Sydney.  The beaches of Perth.  The isolation of Cape Tribulation.  The vivid colours of the Great Barrier Reef.  The people of the Whitsundays.  Australia Zoo of Brisbane.  The surf of Byron Bay.  Tsonga’s rise to (almost) greatness of Melbourne.  All of these are memories I take with me in my heart from Australia.  i can’t narrow my experiences down to favourites.  I just can’t.  It’s not possible for me. 

So far on this trip, I find myself falling over and over again.  The feelings that embrace me everyday make me feel like I’m living, really living life.  As we move through the air towards New Zealand, I can hear the countdown beginning to purr in my ears once more.  Now though, it’s not only a countdown to leaving what I’m sure will be another new love, but also to the end of my trip.  We’ve passed our half way point.  Hearing that all too familiar hum and staring at the world below me, has made me realise that I don’t want to miss a thing.  Not a single thing. 

A Complete Guide To Jammy Dodgers

Jammy Dodger: 

• shortbread biscuit with jam filled centre.
• person(s) with a supreme amount of luck.

A jammy dodger is many things.  They are the people who win first prize in a raffle and that prize is a car.  They are the people whose bags always come first off a place.  They are the people who lose $5 but find $50.  They are the people who are always picked out from the crowd.  A jammy dodger is someone who repeatedly finds themselves in the right place at the right time.  As recent events have proved, a jammy dodger is Amy and I. 

Yes, after the antics of January 27th 2008, I can safely crown Amy and I Queens of the Jammy Dodger Circuit.  Thank you, thank you very much.  As well, the events also forced me to recognise, and I shall do this briefly, previous dodger-esque moments:

1. Nairobi: standing in the midst of a throng of tired passengers, all aching to get through passport control, Amy and  I were pulled randomly out by an employee and taken around a corner to a brand new desk.  No crowds.  No queues.  No wait.
2. Blue Mountains: being placed in the front seats of the steepest railway ride, a position everyone was clamouring for.
3. Gin Gin: walking away from our car accident unharmed.  In fact, I had worse injuries from pole dancing on our Whitsundays boat 2 days previously. 
4. Melbourne: winning $300 in the Crown Casino on Blackjack despite being the worst gamblers in the world.

It must however be stated, that the greatest example of our artful dodger capabilities occurred on January 27th – the day of the Australian Open Men’s Grand Slam Final.  (WARNING: the following content may be hazardous to your health.  If you suffer from green eye, envy, jealousy or just a general lack of happiness for others, it is strongly advised that you stop reading now.)

Amy and I, whenever a TV was available, had been watching the Aussie open avidly.  So when we realised that we were to be in Melbourne for the men’s final and that ground passes were only $20, we decided that we simply HAD to go.  The morning of the final, with Tsonga stars in our eyes, we were fully prepared for our day of sitting in the grounds watching the match on the big screen outside of Centre Court.  We had embraced it and set about decking ourselves out to better suit the Garden Square atmosphere.  We purchased $2 facepaints and Australian Open t-shirts, and after monopolising the mirror in the ladies room, we emerged with French flags on our cheeks and t-shirts on.  Feeling excited we took to the grounds in search of Garden square stadium to find a patch of grass with our names on it.  Little did we know what a bargain those facepaints would turn out to be!

As we walked around the grounds, jabbering excitedly as only we and parrots can, we were in our own little world.  That world was interupted by a simple, “Excuse me girls…where did you get your facepaints?”    Amy and I stared momentarily at the two male strangers in front of us.  I broke the brief silence by informing them that they were our facepaints.  They looked disappointed.  I felt sorry for them.  “Would you like us to paint flags on your faces?” I offered.  Their faces lit up. 

“Really?” they stammered, looking from Amy to myself.

“Sure, why not? Unless you’re supporting Djokovic?” Amy and I challenged. 

“Tsonga all the way!”  They had won us over and out came the paints. 

As we both artistically (I’m Camp Beaumont trained don’t you know!) painted their faces, they asked us where abouts in the stadium we would be sitting.  I laughed.  We informed them that we were in fact poor backpackers who had mere grounds tickets and therefore, grass for seats.  

“Well,” said one, ” I guess it’s our job to repay the favour and figure out how to smuggle you in!” 

“You’ve got seats? Lucky!” I whimpered, impressed and rather envious. 

“Oh no,” said the other, “We’ve got something much better than seats.”

Amy and I were intrigued. 

Turns out, this ’something better’ was a super box.  A  SUPERBOX!!!!  With the help of their wives and 18 of their closest friends, Alex and David succeeded in smuggling Amy and I up the security guarded lfts and into their private box! 

The view was amazing.  The three course meal was exceptional.  The free bar was welcomed.  But more important that all of that, we were going to see Tsonga defeat Djokovic in the flesh! Not on a screen!  

Unfortunately, Tsonga didn’t beat Djokovic.  But even this defeat didn’t rain on our flashpacker parade.  We got to watch on eof the greats Gran Slam Finals from a superbox that costs $1200 per person!  The day was surreal and amazing, a dream yet reality.  I still can’t quite believe it. 

As we found our way back to our hostel that night, back to bunkbeds and reality, I found myself think only one thing.  My mind simply pondered the power of $2 facepaints.  Who knew? 

Coffs Harbour

Be warned: another short, possibly rubbish, blog to follow. 

After Byron, Amy and I headed with baited breath to Coffs harbour to visit with my neighbours from Sexy Surby – Irene and Leigh.  We had heard the weather was great and we felt that perhaps our luck was changing.  Our hopes were dashed when we arrived to rain, rain, rain.  Saddened, we crawled into bed.  I’m not ashamed to say that I prayed for sun the next day.

Turns out, someone was listening and the following day was glorious.  Irene picked Amy, myself and our baggage up from the hostel and took us to her place up in the hills.  After a welcoming cup of tea and Leigh’s return from the gym, the four of us headed up through the rainforest and banana trees to the view point over Coffs harbour.  It was beautiful.  The colour of the sea was exactly how I’d imagined it to be the whole way down the east coast – now I was finally able to see it for real.  After sufficient amounts of photo taking, the four of us headed down to the famed Coffs Harbour for a spot of lunch and a climb over Mutton Bird Island.  Then, the truly spectacular part of the day was upon us – tennis.  Amy, Leigh and myself headed down to tennis courts for a sport of tennis.  Having not played in years it took me a while to remember how my legs worked, but once I got going there was no stopping me.  Actually…there was seeing as I lost 6-4 in a set to Amy and then 6-4 to Amy and Leigh in our mixed doubles match.  But hey, the point is that I did exercise and didn’t die!  Wahey!

Thank you to Irene and Leigh for a wonderful day.  We had a fantastic time and are so glad that we made it down to see you.  Leigh – I will take you on at tennis upon my return.  Get practicing!

Surf’s up!

“Are you ready?” asked Steve, staring straight ahead.

Nervously, clinging to our boards a little tighter, Colin and I nodded.   Breathing deeply, the three of us approached the edge of the shore that was being beaten into submission by the 8ft waves.  Suddenly, body-boarding at 7pm at night on Byron Bay’s famous beach didn’t seem like the best of ideas.   But hell, we were only young once hey?

Turns out, we spent more time trying to stay afloat and not drowning than we did actually catching some waves.  Being the weakest of the three, one arm was permanently attached to my body-board, the other to Colin or Steve’s hand, as the current threatened to sweep me away.   After 45minutes of try-hard boarding, we each scrambled out of the ocean and collapsed on the shore.  The sea had punished us enough for leaving Amy to cook dinner…..we surrendered and began our tredge back up to the hostel, our heads hung low, my bikini bottoms full of sand.

Having arrived in Byron at 12pm that afternoon, Amy and I had spent the day exploring the extremely quaint, bohemian town.  All around us were new age stores manned by aging hippies as well as an abundance of half naked backpackers carrying surf boards.  Everyone seemed to know everyone and newbies were welcomed into the throng of Byron with open arms and the offer of copious amounts of weed.  Do not fear, Amy and I were good girls.  We merely succumbed to the other ‘drug’ that was abundant in the area…..alcohol.

We met up with some old friends – our Irish lads from Melbourne/Sydney and Kara & Rob (our Canadian saviors from the Whitsundays.)  We all went out that evening and had a few (too many) bevvies, ending up in the classy establishment of Cheeky Monkeys where the dance floor is actually tables.  Dangerous, yes.  Fun, definitely.

The following day, with the irish boys at work, myself and Team Canada headed down to the beach (as shock of all horrors it wasn’t raining!) to catch some surf.  Again the current was strong and the waves were huge.  But I still managed to ride a few waves.  Amy managed to accomplish what seemed to her the impossible in Jeffrey’s bay and stand up too which was fantastic to behold.  Her smile spread from ear to ear.  The main difficulty was the sand bars.  No sooner had you mounted your board and were riding the wave in than you hit and sand bar and were catapulted off.  Very annoying I must say.

Our time in Byron was only short, thus the shortness and crapness of this blog (there is only so much you can write about surfing!), and I wish we had more time.  Yet, considering we initially didn’t think we were going to make it at all, we were lucky to have experienced it in the first place.  Surf’s up.

Crikey! Now that is what I call a zoo!

Until I visited Australia zoo, home of the crocodile and original wildlife warrior Steve Irwin, there were a handful of wildlife related escapades that I never thought I’d experience.  Cuddling a koala bear would be one.  Handling a crocodile would be another.  Meeting a homosexual Cockatoo would be the third.  But I won’t jump into that right away.  I’ll save that story for later!

In all honesty,before visiting the zoo a part of me, the cynical part of me I imagine, the part that I keep buried between the ‘vegetables are nice’ and ‘boybands are cool’ parts of me, was worried that Australia Zoo would be a commercial nightmare.  The place where tourism cliches go to die.  I imagined being charged $10 for a coke or $20 for breathing in the same airspace as a wombat.  I expected spotty, surly teenagers who, when wishing me a ‘have a nice day,’ made me want to kill myself.  I prepared myself for small enclosures that claimed to have animals in them, but the areas were decidedly vacant.  What I got, could not have been further from the truth.

Every member of staff we encountered during our expedition we encountered with a smile on their face.  All of Steve Irwin’s proteges seemed to genuinely adore their jobs and enjoy intereacting with the crowds.  I swear the animals too seemed a tad smug as they wandered round their huge enclosures with a ‘Steve Irwin loves us’ smile.  There were no spotty teens, empty enclosures or breathing charges in site.  Amazing.

Our first stop was the Koala encounter.  Chris and Amy were just about sick of my ‘I want to cuddle a koala!!!’ whining and so they wanted to shut me up as soon as possible.  At least, that is what I gathered from the way they picked me up and ran with me across the park to the encounter area.  As Amy and I queued, we watched a little concerned at the way the claws seem to cling.  They didn’t just grasp.  They clung.  Even burly men (is there such a thing?) wearing thick, long sleeved t-shirts were gasping as the koala ‘hugged’ them.  Amy looked at me, eyebrows raised as she eyed by bare arms and shoulders and said:  “You wanted to cuddle the damn thing.  Good luck with that!”  Thankfully though, it was no where near as bad as I expected.  As I was introduced to Andie and she was handed over to me, I took a sharp intake on breath as her furry arms wrapped themselves around me.  No pain.  No cuts.  No blood.  No Sarah screaming as she promptly drop kicks the furry bundle.  In fact, it was comforting.  Andie was so soft, almost cashmere soft.  Her claws were simply resting, but the support I gave her meant she didn’t have to cling.  I can but assume that previous visitors were simply weak and I am infact the definition of burly.

After I had been forcefully made to hand the koala back to her keeper (apparently running away whilst still clutching said koala is not ‘koala encounter acceptable’…), we headed in the direction of the arena that made Australia Zoo and Steve Irwin famous.  The reason why people flocked day after day to Australia Zoo.  The place where people wait in anticipated silence, let’s be honest,  for a crocodile to eat a human being.  The Crocoseium.  Dum Dum DUUUUMMMM!

Since the death of Steve Irwin, the show has changed somewhat.  Being the original wildlife warrior, the cast and crew of Australia zoo, now use the Crocoseium to spread Steve’s word on wildlife conservation.  During the show we didn’t just meet crocs.  Asian elephants tugged at our heartstrings first of all, then we were introduced to a crate full of snakes.  In all honestly, you can’t really do much with snakes so the appeal vapourised fairly soon after they were carried out of the box.  Next, we had a bit of a bird show – many a different bird (parrots, cockatoos, herons etc) walked, flew or were carried into the arena for our viewing pleasure.  We were also well versed in the ‘Crikey!’ shouts by this point.  But where were the crocs?

Turns out, it was only one croc.  But this was enough entertainment for me, and I assume for the ‘trainers’ as well.  These two guys seemed incredibly nervous throughout the entire ordeal.  Understandable really when they have a giant crocodile watching their every move.  They bravely demonstrated how territorial a croc is when it comes to water, how they can jump from the depths of the river at the drop of a hat, and how they eat.  The main trainer, for storytelling sake we’ll call him Fred,  did most of the talking whilst his man (Barry) watched his back.  You constantly heard mutterings of ‘Watch your back mate…..’ coming from Barry asFred informed us of various crocodile facts, with intervals of heavy breathing and sprinting.  I must say that, after watchiing the speed at which a croc can move in and jump out of water, I have crossed ‘Next Steve Irwin’ off my list of possible careers.  I rather like my body the way it is – intact!

Now I guess is the right time for some comic relief.  Yes Chris Downey, it is time for the tale of the Cockatoo.  We first met Anthony when we boarded the Safari Tram after lunch with the destination of the Tiger Temple.  The three of us climbed unassuming into the front seat of the tram.  Imagine our shock when we look up and see, not a man in the drivers seat, but a beautiful, white Cockatoo.  Apparently animals have to work to earn their keep at Australia Zoo!  Or so we thought.  “He’s only playing,” was the explanation from his owner Sarah (great name!).  Why she felt the need to explain to us that the Cockatoo was not in fact driving the tram I do not know, I imagine we could have figured that one out for ourselves!  Anthony, as the Cockatoo was called, stayed with us for the duration of our journey.  It was during our various stops that we began to realise that this was one Cockatoo who, in fact, liked a Cock-or-two.  Any male member of staff who approached the cab of the tram was met with goggly eyes, preening and a bit of a show…and I’m not talking about Amy and I, or even Chris.  Yes sir, Anthony the Cockatoo definately liked his male members of staff.  He fluffed his feathers.  Batted his eyes. Blew kisses.  “I never get a look in,” moaned trainer Sarah, “He just loves his men…he has boyfriends all over the park.”  I decided not to pipe up and suggest that there are names for birds like that.

Over the course of the day, we visited wombats (possibly the coolest creatures I have ever seen….they are just pigs with cuter outfits!), tigers, elephants, dingoes (one didn’t steal my baby), cassowaries, lizards, dragons, otters, emus, koalas, kangaroos, birds, tasmanian devils, sexually charged tortoises and of course crocodiles….lots and lots of crocodiles.  We even encountered the ghost of Steve Irwin….scarily though, Amy and my faces look just as pale….!  We had a great day.  As zoo’s go, this is a pretty damn good one.  Its wonderful to see, if a little tear jerking, that the memory of Steve Irwin is kept alive so well and with so much enthusiasm.  Seeing what he did for wildlife and how much he loved every living creature, reflects in his zoo and he should be very proud.  Our day was full of remarkable encounters, lots of laughs (and even monkey impressions) and will live on in my memory forever.

I figure there is only one way to end this blog and that is with one great, big ‘CRIKEY!‘

The Karate Kid of all Jellyfish!

Being a backpacker, especially an English one (there appears to be a surplus of us in Australia), there are a few standard activities we are expected to fulfill out here:

1. Sydney Fireworks – CHECK!
2. Neighbours Night – CHECK!
3. Great Barrier Reef – CHECK!
4. Fraser Island.
5. Sailing the Whitsundays.

The latter expedition was finally upon us. After an overnight Greyhound down from Cairns, we arrived in Airlie beach. I believe our first remark upon alighting the bus was, “Well…it’s not raining!” A fact that remained true until the following morning. But alas, I digress.

Airlie beach is one of those places that wouldn’t be on a map, let alone a backpackers list of places to visit, were it not for the collection of island it babysits. As a town, where every other shop is a travel agent, it doesn’t have much to offer (except apparently multiple ways for you to leave the town…). But the prospect of lounging on a mega-yacht (not a yacht, a mega yacht!), under the generous sun, surrounded by crystal clear, turquoise waters kept us sane.

As it stands, we got screwed. From the moment the Anaconda III set sail that Friday evening we were doomed. Doomed if only for the fact that we had not 1, not 2 but 3 Canadians on board. Apparently this increased our chances of rain by 80%. Turns out, never doubt a skipper.

The following morning we arrived at Whitehaven beach for what should have been 2 hours sunbathing. In reality, it was 2 hours of beach cricket in the pouring rain. But then the ball broke. It was a devastating loss.

Something however, in those few minutes spent in the speed boat returning to the yacht, clicked. Who cared about the rain? We were on a boat. Surrounded, shockingly, by water. We were going to get wet. It was inescapable. The location and impending snorkeling made it so. Ergo, many of us embraced being human fish, remained in our togs and resided on deck 99% of the trip. The 1% being sleeping time. Even human fish need to sleep.

As fish, we relished in the opportunity to snorkel. Donning our exceptionally sexy stinger suits, masks, snorkel , fins and noodles, we (minus the divers i.e. snorkelers with a time limit) took to the reefs. The colours were perhaps not quite as rainbow-esque as in Cairns, but the sights were still wondrous to behold. Floating (with the aid of my noodle!) above these reefs almost felt like trespassing. A whole other world was residing under the sea and being allowed to witness a part of that life is humbling…if a little dangerous…..

Now, I don’t mean dangerous in a ’shark is using my leg as a chew toy’ way. I mean jellyfish dangerous. I mean the reason we had to wear a stinger suit dangerous. Firstly though, before this story proceeds, I must introduce you to Rob and Kara: engaged, Canadian (don’t count it against them….lol), source of our ongoing weather problems, and a great laugh. I had tremendous fun playing human fish with these guys, but Rob was the cause of our jellyfish escapade. Beware – Anecdote alert! And so the story goes…..

While snorkeling the outer reef with said Canadians, Amy was diving, I came across a jellyfish. The natural instinct was to throw my head out of the water, fan myself away from the jelly whilst shouting, “Jelly fish! Swim Away!” at Rob and Kara. A second later, Rob surfaced and we had the ‘argument’ that was our downfall. He pulled me closer to the jellyfish region as he spoke those immortal words that began our head to head:

“It’s a squid.”

“No, it’s a jellyfish,” I countered.

“It’s a squid.”

“It’s a jellyfish!” getting a little more heated.

“It’s a squid!”

“It’s a jellyfish!”

Then, Rob yelled.

“I’ve been stung!!”

“Ow…me too!” I wailed.

“Me three!” Kara whimpered.

“So it IS a jellyfish….it’s stuck on my arm.”

God bless Rob. The moral of the story I guess is to always trust the English. Oh, and Jellyfish (especially Karate Kid ones that can attack three people in one go) = Pain. Remember that.

Despite our Team Jellyfish bad luck, pity did not the weather take. In fact, it got worse. A lot worse. As we headed back to the islands we struggled to find them. Eventually, they were located hiding under the dense black cloud and torrential rain that was situated ahead of us. Most people (dare I say the sane ones?) headed below deck after the Grinch…sorry, Skipper Tim, warned us that this was going to be hard rain. Team Rain as we were now called, with the added members of Flip and Thomas, decided to brave it. We were all in our togs, it was hot and stuff under deck and it was only rain….right?

Wrong! Hard rain my arse. Razor blades would have been a better description. But still, we braved it. Granted, I believe it was probably more out of fear of slipping overboard that bravery, but we rode it out none-the-less. Hell, we even all enjoyed a Sarah-Kara sandwich (the boys attempt at protection again the rain!) and witnessed a water tornado! Not your usual Whitsundays sights and deck dwelling activities, I grant you, but we had a great time. I don’t think the smile left my face. Until I saw Rob’s bum. I lost it for a second there.

Anyhoo, true, our Whitsundays experience probably wasn’t quite what an English backpacker expected. But hey, when you’re traveling with a Canadian there’s an 80% extra chance of rain. I guess I just need to man up or get off the boat. I choose, and will always choose, manning up.

Anyone else Lost?

Arriving in Cairns was like being transported to the set of ‘Lost.’ Except, in our TV series, there was no Jack, no Kate, no Mr Echo and no creepy ‘Others.’ It was just Amy and I. Alone. On this seemingly desert island.

Of course we were really alone, no was Cairns a deserted island. It merely appeared to be. Surrounded by mountains blanketed with glossy green trees and without a house in sight, you’d be forgiven for thinking we were the only people arriving by jet plane.

As we sped through the quiet streets of Cairns it became clear that we were worlds away from Sydney. Gone were the high-rises, the bridges and the tree-less streets. Being surrounded by natural beauty was a welcome change….except the humidity…the perma-sweat wasn’t welcome.

Neither in fact was the rain. Yes, it was raining. In fact, from the moment we woke up in Cairns it rained. Constantly. Bearing in mind Amy and I changed our plans to avoid the rain, the sheer intensity of the showers was ironic to say the least. Or is the expression sod’s law?

We intended on our first day in Cairns to explore. We like exploring. We enjoy it. But it was raining. We don’t enjoy rain. So, after a few hours of wandering around the city and tackling the Esplanade, we gave up and went to the movies. The things you experience when you’re traveling hey!

My visions of Lost (and of frolicking with gorgeous Jack in the sand….) came rushing back to me when we ventured up to Cape Tribulation and into the rainforest. Turns out, in a rainforest, it rains. Go figure. Anyhoo….it was beautiful. I felt like Jane in Tarzan. When surrounded by enormous vines, twisted branches and trees the heights of houses, it is hard to breathe through the beauty. Simply staggering were the views we saw through the mist and the clouds. My skipping through the forest and childishly jumping in puddles was tarred slightly by the mention of leeches….gotta hate the leeches.

When we arrived at Cape Tribulation beach, Sarah and I (we met another Sarah….popular girls) stood and had a moment. Staring around at the blue sea lapping on the deserted golden beach, surrounded by green hills, we felt alone, we felt paradise…we felt Lost. Luckily the path back up to the hotel helped us find our way back. If only things were that easy in the show.

The following day, we accomplished something that very few people get to appreciate. We were able to walk from one National heritage site to another. We crossed from the Cape Tribulation rainforest onto the Great Barrier Reef. It’s what people come to Cairns for….to visit the GBR and I was finally getting to experience it.Luckily, out at sea the weather changed from rain to sunshine. This made the visibility under the sea 100% better. Snorkelling with my ADD buddy and my noodle, I was able to admire the colours facing me. Both the coral and the fish were just beautiful, it was as if a rainbow had exploded in the water. It was beautiful. Oh, and I found Nemo. Just in case you were wondering where he vanished too after the film disappeared from our screens.

Next stop Embankment – please mind the gap!

By now I’m sure most of you will have heard about our car gymnastics on the way from Rockhampton to Brisbane. For those of you who don’t know, here is a brief summary:

Escaping the floods that were building up in our wake, Amy and I battled on down south and found ourselves renting a car in Rockhampton. After 2 hours of driving we pulled over and swapped drivers, allowing me time to nap and regain my senses after the stupidly straight, boring roads. After a half hours dreaming I woke up to yet more straight roads and to the relaxed sounds of Amy singing. However, no more than a minute later we found ourselves in a spin. As we’d taken a soft,but blind corner, our back wheels spun out on gravel sending us careering into a flood marker. We bounced from one marker to the other before being sent into a spin. Across the road we spun before rolling down the embankment on the other side of the road. The gaggle of trees stopped us, roof down.

We were both very lucky. We know that. A few km’s faster and it could have been a very different story. What baffles us, especially Amy more, is what actually happened. She wasn’t speeding, in fact she was under the speed limit the police officer told us (who had literally been doing speed checks half a k before we crashed) and she was paying complete attention. ‘Shit happens,’ was the PC’s explanation. This afternoon in hospital we were both checked out – Amy for her dizziness and headaches and me for my back and neck pains. A fractured neck was feared for the most part, but thankfully (after hours of lying flat on my back in a brace staring at the ceiling) the x-ray’s came back clear and I was discharged with express instructions to take it easy. So we will.

As it stands, I am scratching ’stunt driver’ from my list of possible careers paths. Too much like hard work.

You better Sydney believe it!

My favourite place in Sydney was Darling harbour.  I was always there.  In fact, it became a bit of a joke in a ‘Where’s Sarah?’ ‘Where do you think?’ capacity.  Amy got dragged along for the ride.  I’m not sure how thrilled she was.  some might call me predictable.  Some boring.  Me?  I just liked the place.  In Darling Harbour you could find everything you could ever want in one place – beauty, views, water and entertainment (playgrounds for kids and alcohol for adults…and I guess playgrounds too.)  There was the aquarium and arcade, where we spent a significant portion of my birthday.  Apparently we also went there for food and drinks in the evening….but that’s a hazy memory and I’m going on what I’ve been told.  Children’s play areas, paddle boats (also visited on my birthday), Imax, fountains – honestly, anything you can think of you could probably find in Darling Harbour.  Except goats.  Or cows for that matter.  So don’t ask.  I just loved the diverse and varied atmosphere that Darling Harbour owned.  It was where Amy and I sat under a (blue) Christmas tree and sang carols on Christmas eve.  Jason, Hilary, Amy and I had our Christmas dinner there.  Adam, Dave, Amy and I spent an afternoon in the arcade.  Many an afternoon was spent wandering the mall or just plain drinking.  It was by far my favourite place in Sydney.  But I think you may have grasped that concept by now….so I shall move on. 

Circular Quay, home of the infamous Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House, was nice.  However, it was always busy.  God only knows what attracted every tourist in Sydney down there every day….I’m still wondering….anyone would think it held famous landmarks!  I personally only visited Circular Quay a couple of times, partly because it was a trek and a half and partly because it just wasn’t as magical as Darling Harbour.  Yet, there is no denying the beauty it does behold.  It truly was a breathtaking sight to witness, at last, the Opera house and the bridge.  But in all honesty, why keep going back there?  Once you’ve seen them once, you’ve seen them a million times.  They don’t change.  Or is that just me? 

Manly, about 30minutes by ferry from Circular Quay, was beautiful and very high up on the list of my favourite places.  Imagine you’re typical seaside town, fill it with tanned, half naked backpackers and you’ll have Manly.  Sound like your worst nightmare?  I thought so too initially when I saw the queue for the ferry.  My mind quickly changed once I stepped onto the dock.  The beach was bursting at the seams with tourists trying to go that one shade darker and children swimming or body boarding.   Amy and I spent a lovely, relaxing day in the sun.  We did venture into the water a couple of times until there was not only a blue bottle jellyfish warning but also a shark warning.  After that, the water didn’t seem so appealing.  Funny that.  A group of us also headed up the Manly for a beach day and this time we stayed out a little longer and immersed ourselves in the cafe culture that makes Manly the relaxed place it is.  The only hassle was battling for a place on the ferries.  I swear, anyone would think that, come ferry time, some flesh eating virus was taking over the island and this boat was our final option.  Children were literally flying over our heads from one parent to another.  I swear someone tried to bite me.  It was a circus.  But I guess, in the end, a relaxing day on the nicest beach in Sydney might just be worth the teeth marks. 

After a few beach days in Sydney post-New years, Amy and I (minus our male counterparts Adam and Dave, who failed to make the early wake up. Losers.) headed out of the city and up to the Blue Mountains.  On the train journey up, I spent the time envisaging sun kissed mountain tops, set against a startling blue and cloudless backdrop.  What did we get?  Cloud, rain and goosebumps!  Completely underestimating the fact that we were to be climbing mountains and forgetting our luck with the weather, Amy and I were donned in shorts and vest tops.  Not exactly warm and as it turns out, completely inappropriate clothing for the Blue Mountains.  Yet, despite our blue legs and numb fingers we did manage to tackled the steepest railway in the world, the cable car and the sky-way.   All of these did provide us with spectacular views over the mountains, despite the weather.  I only have one thing to say though…..they weren’t even the slightest bit blue.  I’ve always said that Australians were random with their names. 

The Chinese Zen Gardens were also visited by Ms McCulloch and myself.  Due to the post-new year blues (a.k.a HANGOVER), we decided that the quiet, tranquil gardens were a much better option than remaining in our alcohol fuelled hostel.  The gardens were simply beautiful.  The lakes, trees, pagodas, art work all swept you far away from the centre of Sydney.  Were it not for the high-rises surrounding us and the extremely Aussie staff running the place, I would have almost believed I was in China.  Almost.  It was a place that I could have sat in for hours.  But Adam and Dave rang and offered us food.  A girl can’t turn down a meal. 

 Our final days in Sydney were spent milling around.  In my opinion we were there for too long (granted not through choice) and the city simply became just that, a city.  It ceased being the magical mystery that everyone used to talk about visiting.  It just became…well….Sydney.  Even Darling harbour began to lose its magic.  I will always remember Sydney.  Many great memories and friends were made there.   Christmas, New years and my 23rd were all spent wrapped within its arms and that will always make Sydney special.  Personally though, the harbours are what make Sydney stand out the most for me.  They are simply stunning and I can’t imagine many other harbours ever rising to meet them on the pedestal on which they now sit.  Sydney will always be a place I look back on fondly, I dont’ think I couldn’t even if I tried. 

Now in Cairns, I feel like I am travelling again.  The unknown (and bad weather!) is once more upon us.  Adventure….HERE WE COME!