one leg each

The Silence of the Lambs

Argentina is famous for many things, no more so than it’s amazing beef, however this pursuit of glory does seem to have had an adverse effect on other areas of its culinary repertoire. 

While it is still a mystery how the general public aren’t grossly overweight due to their massive red meat intake, we realised that we’d soon be returning home with sizable hogs  unless we mixed it up a little, something that proved a bit of a waste of time!

While attempting to broaden our horizons we tried Mexican (Stodgy and tasteless) Italian (Very stodgy and tasteless) and even Fondue (Rubbish!) So why is the food so bland? Well some of the blame can be attached to a fear of anything remotely spicy – even black pepper is treated with widespread contempt and is only available in the imported food section in the supermarket. This is a country of Italian immigrants, but apart from awesome ice cream the culinary comparisons were looking a little embarrassing.

A lemon pie ice cream , oh yes...

After a few failed attempts at home-cooking, we gave in and took ourselves out for a Carnes Mix Parillia, to put and end to all this crap food.

La Tablina 

La Tablina was smart and atmospheric and we decided on a slightly gluttonous order of the famed Patagonian Lamb, flanked by bife de Chorizo and bife de Lomo, you know, just to be on the safe side. We’d also heard great things about the Papas Fritas Provencales, so they joined the ranks, for research purposes only you understand.

The whole 9 yards 

When you’re spoiled by such outstanding beef, there is a danger of becoming blasé about it, but even by their very high standards this was excellent. The Bife de Chorizo (Sirloin) was cooked perfectly, pink all the way through, and the crispy fat was cooked so well that it tempted even Faye. The Bife de Lomo (Fillet) was also superb, but all were upstaged by the star of the show, the Patagonian Lamb. It was simply out of this world, to the point that all previous Lamb seemed dull by comparison. We started with the bones, the meat falling off it at the merest suggestion, so tender and sooooo dammed tasty.

This was around half-time... 

After our experience with the Frog Scratchings in Vietnam, we both knew that eating essentially just animal fat, is naughty but extremely delicious, well the crispy lamb fat that complemented the dish raised the bar higher still. It was cooked to a perfect crisp - achieved by stretching the spread-eagled lamb across a bed of flame red coals - the ideal accompaniment to every succulent mouthful of Lamb, or beef for that matter! If this wasn’t enough the chips were a match for the meat, cooked in white wine and finished with garlic and parsley, they ranked as easily the best on the trip so far… and believe me, we’d tried ‘em all.

Lamb phat

Leaving the restaurant I was tempted to fall to one side and have Faye roll me out, such was our intake of food, but manners got the better of me and we just made our way out, slowly passing the Parillia (Grill) to catch the aroma of more Lamb being prepared… it was certainly all I could see, smell and taste as I fell asleep that night!

Patagonian Lamb... done!

A matter of opinion

The foundation of the world is built upon nothing more solid than opinions… what happened to facts? From the stock market, to the fashion, music and film industries – everything in life it seems, is based on nothing more tangible than subjective thought. It was certainly the main reason I gave up my job and decided to doss round the world for a year!

The interesting situation you find yourself in when travelling, having being stripped of your usual trusted sources of information - friends, media, whatever – all you’re left with is a guide book and a bunch of random people you’ve never met before.

A bunch of randoms... and Kim and Will 

The trick, of course, is to trust the opinions of people who shares similar values, however identifying such people is no mean feat when you’re making these friends (and probably forgetting them) in a matter of hours!

Thankfully, there was one place that seemed to unite opinion – Patagonia, in southern Argentina. This remote and desolate area is home to some truly amazingly bleak scenery and very few people, not a great start. Throw in a combined bus journey time of 46 hours (2 admittedly very comfy buses) and there has to be something pretty special at the end of the road, thankfully The Perito Moreno Glacier and the Fitz Roy mountain range step up to the plate.

The thriving metropolis of El Chaltan 

Now the idea of sitting on a bus for 2 days only to stand and watch a 60m high wall of ice move 7cm a day, probably sounds like some form of torture, but in reality the sight of this awesome natural wonder proves impossible to take your eyes off! Walking to and from the various viewing decks, you have to listen carefully to the cracks of ice, audible from some 500m away – and then it happens, an almighty thunderclap as a huge chunk of ice falls, travelling some 40ms down into the green glacial water below, the resulting impact causes waves to thunder towards the shores. The 5 hours we spent taking in the ethereal blue glow of the glacier seemed to fly by and we left having seen the most surprisingly thrilling sight on the trip thus far.

Trust me, it's more exciting in the flesh

Is trekking fun? No one does it in England right? Well The Fitz Roy range seems to change people’s perception the world over, it was certainly another place that garnered universal praise from fellow travellers. The small frontier town of El Chaltan was only built to secure the boarder from Chile, but you can understand the need to cock the proverbial leg – the magnificent surrounding scenery is one of the few places that lives up the Lonely Planet hyperbole.

Cerro Torres

The town was virtually closed for the season and we’d been told by various people that ‘you won’t see anything’ because it had snowed, but luck was on our side as we arrived to perfect blue skies and no wind, allowing us an rare sight of these dramatic mountains. We trekked for 2 days and some 50ks but getting our first glimpse of the mountains up close certainly leaves a lasting impression!

Probably our best picnic spot so far... 

Argentina is nothing like we’d imagined it, but trust me it’s somewhere that exceeds all expectations.

The 'Real' Gaucho Grill

Horse riding in Patagonia was all Robs’ idea. I think he fancied himself as a bit of a John Wayne or a Clint Eastwood: Man and beast alone against the rugged Patagonian wilds. Ha! Brokeback mountain more like!

Brokeback Bert 

I was a bit dubious, it’s been a while since I had last mounted a trusty stead and the day before we had completed a 26k (very hilly!) bike ride so the derriere was already starting to protest. But I needn’t have worried, arriving at el estancia felt like coming home and once in the saddle the horse whisperer in me took over…. ah, if only! I have about as much horse riding experience as I do speaking Spanish ie nada! and naturally I was stuck with the naughty, aptly named horse “el torro” (bull), who was fond of doing all those naughty horse things that leave novice riders hanging on for dear life, like bucking his reigns, galloping when we were supposed to be walking and riding straight towards massive trees that he just about managed to duck under but which nearly swiped me from my seat!

   Sulking like a spoilt 13 year old - "i want that one daddy!" 

 
El Torro

Luckily the Great Outdoors awaited and the landscape was vast, rugged and straight out of a Wild West film, as a result I think that more than one of us had our internal soundtrack set to “Rawhide!” Apart from Rob, who confessed his default setting was Black Beauty….in slow mo (even poor old Heath would be turning in his grave at that one) Our guide and ranch owner, the enigmatic Carol Jones, is a bit of a legend in these parts as her grand-father aided and abetted that old rouge and his mate Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid when they were on the run in Argentina, way back when the stuff of Wild West films was just normal every day life.

Wild West Argentina  

As any Gaucho will tell you horse riding is hungry work and 2 hours in we pitched up at a spot that looked like it had played host to a few asados (that’s a BBQ to me and you) in it’s time. A basic fire pit with some makeshift seats made from old tree trunks awaited us – lunch was on its way! Carol and her compadre, el gaucho produced some large squishy packages from the saddle bags only to promptly disappear off into the bush to scavenge for fire wood whilst we all sat bemused around the old ashes.

 
El fire pit 

Argentinian Asado is perhaps one of the most exciting things we have come across in all our travels – Ozzie BBQ? pah! You can find them in even the lowliest of towns and they are always good. A combination of amazing quality beef and excellent bbq-ing technique that created a crisp, smoky delicious outer shell whilst the inside is jugoso and as bloody as hell!

Such was our fascination, that the previous evening with the help of a Texan, (another nationality with a claim to the BBQ crown) we had even tried to recreate the magic at our hostel and it had taken us 3 hours to light the fire and get the coals to the right  temperature so I was interested to see how they were going to achieve the perfect asado within the lunch hour!

 

I needn’t have worried, we were in the hands of professionals and soon we had a roaring fire, and from a bush el gaucho produced a grill that he planted in the ground over a patch of earth next to the fire. Once the wood has started to turn white hot he scraped off the top layer and spread it on the ground under the grill et voila! We were ready for the meat….

 
Whoop! there it is!

From out of the saddle bags came 4 different cuts of meat which, put mildly, looked like the sum parts of half a cow. The boys were dribbling in anticipation and everyone unconsciously undid a notch on their belt. Except the vegetarian, who we all agreed needed to get a life!

 
Aussies take note... 

Lunch was served with a plastic cup of red wine and a light salad of dressed cabbage – no point in filling up on peripheries when there was a bonafide meat feast with your name on it. I wish I knew what the cuts of meat were but unfortunately my Spanish wasn’t good enough to divine the details. I do know that they were fresh from the cow on the very ranch upon which we were riding and all totally delicious and yet completely different. Amazing.

So there we have it. Yee-haw! Our day in the life of a cowboy. And I think Rob will agree that even if he didn’t exactly get to ride like a cowboy, he certainly got to eat like one. No-one ever said that Brokeback cowboys can’t enjoy a good steak!

"Dear Jim...."

It was the ultimate childhood wish to the be-tracksuited Saturday night Santa Claus: “Dear Jim, I’m from Boro me like, a horrible smoggy town in the north etc etc (you had to have a good sob story to be in with a chance with Jim). Please can you fix it for me to swim with dolphins?”

 Predictably, Jim didn’t fix it for my 10 year old self, but  he did teach me a valuable lesson – In this life, you have to paddle your own canoe! 

And so it was, 20 years later, that I find myself, not in a canoe exactly but about to realise a life long dream nevertheless (up yours Jim!): The dusky dolphins of Kaikoura were in the bay and ready to play!

We were lucky, it was an awesome day: sunny, clear and bright. Unfortunately this had no bearing whatsoever on the absolutely Baltic sea temperature. We were kitted out from head to toe in some sort of moon monkey waterproof outfit, complete with a Micheal Jackson-eque fitted jacket which tapered into a velcroed crotch and a gimp-like snood. Unfortuntely, no pictures of this appear to have survived (not wanting to detract from the dolphins!) and so you’ll have to take my word for it!

If my experience from the west coast of Oz taught me anything, it’s that I hate cold sea water. But then again hundreds of dolphins aren’t waiting to say hello every day of the week either. The dolphins won out.

 
Lorrall Dolphins 

 We ploughed in and immediately I felt like I was having some sort of panic attack, couldn’t catch my breath, was floundering all over the place etc etc .But it was just a reaction to the cold and once my body was completely numb I could get on with the matter in hand!

Face in the water, hands by sides whilst emulating a dolphin with a butterfly kick and “singing” them a little song into the snorkel were all apparently fool proof ways to attract the dolphin to you, personally I think they were just having a good laugh at the spectacle on the boat..but by jove it worked!

The first one zipped past from behind, so close I could have reached out and grabbed his fin and gone for a little ride. Amazing. And a little squeal of shock and pleasure may have come out in the process.

  Go flipper go!

 Then I caught the attention of two who wanted to play. The idea was to try and catch their eye and swim in circles, then they apparently swam around you. These guys were going round and round with dizzying effects!

They were literally hundreds of dolphins around and so it wasn’t long before all the excitement got them back-flipping, front somersaulting and just jumping straight out of the sea and into the air. But my best bit was being on my own at the front of the boat, with about five or six dolphins just zig-zagging round me, like we were in our own private little game.

 Upside down and roundabout

In the end we hooked up with three different types of dolphin: dusky, common and hector and coming face to face or more to the point eye to eye with these amazing animals and seeing intelligence behind those eyes was quite simply amazing. A highlight worth the wait, so in the end I had Jim to thank for that!

5 things i've learnt about New Zealand

1. NZ – it’s weird but wonderful.

Arriving into the land of hobbits everything felt very strange. This was no doubt compounded by the fact we were staying in a converted Jail on the outskirts of Christchurch, but even so our first taste of New Zealand, was just, well weird. The first 2 towns we visited were Christchurch and Akaroa – the first felt like an English Theme City, with punting on the river Avon and neo-gothic university buildings while the second was a fake French costal town replete with the Tricolore at full mast, Rue’s instead of roads and boulangeries dotting the main street – we didn’t come across ay French speakers… The people however are great – a fine example being caught speeding only for the police officer letting go the $80 fine on the condition that I spend the money on taking Faye out!! Even when Faye had a nasty case of food poisoning our Kiwi hosts were on hand to stoke a fire and let her recuperate in one of their historic cabins. But c’mon, the accent though – it’s not the most aurally pleasing, Fush and Chups, sucks instead of 6 and my personal favourite being the Clussic Huts radio station who’s DJ’s “aren’t famous or anything, but at least they turn up”!! Ha ha, Gold.

 
Proceed straight to Jail, do not collect £200.

2. Awesome scenery, not to everyone’s taste.

Nothing so far on the trip has divided us more than the New Zealand scenery, is it beautiful or just a lot of brown hills? However it is amazing how much they’ve packed into the South Island though, the scale of the mountains certainly belies the countries size. I have definitely been impressed – it’s certainly barren in places, but the amazing turquoise lakes Tekapo and Pukaki made for a stunning sights and the drive from Queenstown to Glenorchy made a lasting impression too.

Faye is unimpressed by the NZ scenery... 

3. Queenstown, the Kidults playground.

Whose idea was Queenstown anyway? A mind-boggling array of adventure adrenalin activities unlike anywhere we’d been before! It got off to a blinding start by just having some other people - it was by far the most commercial town we’d visited but I think we were both in agreement that we needed an injection of life to supplement the mountains. The problem is there is so much temptation you could easily burn £500 in a few days here – a wicked imagination couple with awesome natural surrounds makes for the ultimate big kids playground. The menu of thrills was certainly mouth-watering! We opted for a starter of Luge racing, followed by a main course of Bungy Canyon Swing all washed down with a glass of green glacier water in the form of the Shotover Jet Boat! AMAZING - The Canyon Bungy Swings is easily the scariest thing I’ve done, having to push yourself slowly backwards on a chair into a 110m canyon is just not good for the heart – all the time brilliantly teased and tormented by the staff.

Genuinely thought i'd shat myself...

4. We’re not very good at hiking.

This is what people come to NZ for but previously when we’d taken a wrong turn on a trek It had never been our fault, but on attempting a 4 hour return trip up the side of Mount Cook (800m accent) I realised, that maybe we just aren’t very good at this. The path lead steeply up the side of the mountain before splitting in 2 – no signs to direct us, we took the path that went straight up - a small mistake. 20 mins later we were scrambling through bushes, hauling our self up the mountain with only a few dead ferns to hold on to, it took us clinging onto the side of the sheer mountain face, as it began to hail, that maybe, just maybe this isn’t the right path. Whatever path we had followed it wasn’t aimed at a causal walker crowd, but we did make it to the top, the cloud cleared and all was forgotten.

The view that we had made such hard work of... 

5. Don’t leave it too late to book your campervan!

I’d done my research (and maybe a bit too much mincing) without actually pressing the ‘book’ button – but we’d gotten such a good deal in Oz by waiting till the last min… oh dear. Everyone meet Quasimodo, now Bruce was no looker but c’mon…

Quasimodo - a lesson for us all. 

A 1991 Ford complete with 70’s look wood interior is one thing, but old Quasi was turning into such a dog to drive that it started to turn me into a green eyed monster every time we arrived at a campsite! Yeah I’m still not over it.

South Island done… EVERYONE says that the North bears no comparison, is it just the racist jibs about the amount of pacific influence up there? Or is it really the poor relation?

To be continued…

Fleurs Place, NZ

NZ got off to a bit of a slow start. Part Sydney hang-over, part culture shock. I heard lots about how “beautiful” NZ was, so I wasn’t really prepared for the unending parade of brown hills, wheat fields and anachronistic towns, that may have made me feel homesick, had I been born in the 1850’s.

One of our first stops was at the Moeraki boulders, perfectly spherical specimens which looked like they had just been washed up on the beach. There is a whole natural history erosion story behind their unique formation, but I prefer the Maori version of events which has cast them as food baskets washed ashore from a ship wrecked canoe – much more romantic and blog-worthy!

 Moerakai boulders

 Anyway, the boulders were a nice break from the brown and feeling on a roll I suggested calling into a place, Fleurs Place  to be exact, just for a little look-see as I had heard it was something special in the fish department, before heading off to Shag point for some penguin and seal spotting.

Faye trying to p-p-p pick up a penguin 

Fleurs Place is in Moeraki village, a tiny blot on the landscape with a lighthouse and little else, but perched on the edge of a shaggy cove is the charismatic but slightly ramshackle converted fishing shack. We went for our look-see at about 3pm, way after lunch and the place was still packed. I had to go! Especially after seeing the signed photo of Rick Stein enjoying his fish supper nestled into a cosy corner. We had a little chat to Fleur and she squeezed us in for the second sitting.

 

 The converted fishing shack/gold mine of Fleurs Place 

 We arrived all excited at around 8pm and settled in for a drink at the bar, whilst unashamedly eye-balling the mouth watering creations coming from the kitchen – we weren’t alone, everyone was doing it! And it created a lovely warm environment based on “I’ll have what she’s having! Oh, and what’s that over there…..”

Fleurs Place was the most uncontrived place we had seen so far and fitted in so perfectly with it’s surroundings, which is probably why it felt so homely, comfortable and right. None of this “punting” on the river with straw boaters for Fleur, this was an organic creation, born from the NZ way.   

The menu stated that the “fish was fresh, local and caught that morning, gutted by the fisherman and washed only in salt water- this is why it tastes so good” And boy did it taste good!

After all the hype, it would have been only natural to have experienced an anti-climax when we did actually get to eat, but far from it, the food way exceeded our expectations.

I ordered the green lipped NZ mussels mariniere. When they arrived, it felt like I had been transported to the land of the giants, only in this land, mussels reigned supreme and I was a mere Liliputian attempting to conquer the giant molluscs set before me (Ok, so I have mixed up my literature but you get the picture!) Oh, and it was the most superlative combination of seafood, vineyard and dairy ever to grace to a plate.

 
Moules and Warehou at Fleurs Place 

Rob had a local fish called Warehou,cooked maniere with a lime and caper sauce which came beautifully presented in a highly polished abalone shell. Well, let’s just say, I didn’t hear any complaints from that side of the table!  

So NZ was looking up! It had just banked the best meal of the holiday so far, maybe there were some little gems tucked behind these brown hills…..

 
 Nice brown hills in NZ 

 

 

Meet Bruce

Arriving on the east coast of Australia from WA was like arriving on a different continent. We were greeted out of the airport by a hot and humid morning, the mist floating mysteriously on the top of the very green rainforested mountains. I didn’t even know they did green in Australia!

Arriving at the hostel in Cairns was like a jolt back down to earth. We felt it immediately, without the car our wings had been clipped, and the only sight-seeing we would be doing was the prescribed trip that Greyhound bus schedules are made of. I had already had one long and arduous relationship with the Bruce Highway several years earlier and was keen to limit the use of that particular piece of tarmac on this visit. This trip was about getting off the beaten track man! and that demanded a car, nay it demanded a Campervan. We get that and freedom and the open road are ours!

That was when we met Bruce. We weren’t too sure about him at first. He was bright Orange after all! Hardly cool, plus he was more Campercar than campervan, but he was on budget and came with a DVD player, so we would just have to make our peace with the rest!

 Meet Bruce 

Not all relationships are love at first sight, and it wasn’t until day three that our little ménage a trois really clicked into place. We’d been driving through the Atherton Tablelands during the day stopping off at waterfalls, lakes and places to eat cheese. By nightfall, we found ourselves at Mission Beach and were able to park up our van under a palm tree and make ourselves at home for the night, just in time for a sunset vino. This was holiday brochure material right here!

 
bed on the beach 

 

before the mozzies arrive... 

It was here that we discovered what every other traveller appeared to be programmed with upon landing: The free camp spot homing device. As the driving distances are so vast between each town in Oz, the roads are littered with free rest areas which come equipped with toilets, drinking water, picnic tables and BBQ’s – which begs the question: “Why pay to camp somewhere when all this is on offer for free?” “A shower” is the answer to that question! But there’s nothing quite like an early morning beach shower, shamefacedly “G’day-ing” the dog walkers as you lather up in earnest!

rub a dub dub 

The search for the backpackers holy grail (free camp spot) took us to some of the most scenic and most random places I have ever stayed in my life from the millionaires row view of Arlie beach in the morning, to the Queensland tropical rainforest at the platypus bush camp…

 
"Good Morning!" Bruce comes up trumps with the early morning views 

To the less glamorous destinations of a childrens’ play area; (where we were prayed on drunks looking for some sport after a night on the tiles – or maybe they were vigilantes trying to rid their little country town of the new village peados in their bright orange van!) a race-course and my personal favourite, next to a “Garage World” opposite an industrial estate.

 
Our peado hang-out 

But luckily, we never reached the lows of one poor fellow who I found one morning under the picnic table of our truckers lay-by, rolled up in a carpet with a Woolworths cool bag for a pillow.

So along with tapping into our inner Tudor, (Queen Elizabeth the First had one bath a month, whether she liked it or not) there were other privations to get used to –  making a Maccas happy meal last three hours whilst abusing the free internet at McDonalds; (no town is too small or insignificant for Ronald to set up camp) starting and ending the day with the sun, (you can’t drive at night in Oz, unless you want some ‘roo carnage on your hands) which is fine, until your DVD player runs out of battery and you are lying in a make-shift bed in the back of a car, in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and it’s 7.52! Ok, so it’s not exactly Bear Gryls, but we all have to start somewhere! But for all that, I’ve never had so much fun in my life! If you would have told me last year I would have been this stuff, I would have shuddered in horror and not have believed it. So Bruce, we salute you. You have been a real eye-opener! 

I am Tyler Durden

Byron Bay, a lovely sunny afternoon around 2pm...

So we're walking back to Bruce (our slightly embarrassing but highly practical campercar) and what do you know, but one of our side windows has been smashed! We obviously look straight inside but nothing appears to have been taken, but a more thorough search reveals that 2 of my bags are missing... oh dear.

Bruce, ahem.. you gotta love him

I suppose it could have been worse, but these hateful little creatures still managed to steal my passport, i-touch, brand new headphone & sunglasses - whats more my contact lenses and anti malaria tablets too - so a mixed bag of swag for the little cretins!

There are of course those who'll mock and tell you that you shouldn't bring anything valuable with you when travelling for this very reason - bollocks! I'm not about to endure a combined travel time of 3000 hours without some form of distraction.

Just to make things worse we met a suitably annoying 'free spirit' bloke who's philosophy was that if it happened to him "Well they probably needed it more than me". I'm not blind to the social economic problems of the world and what drives people to petty crime, but that was MY F$&KING I-POD, GET YOUR OWN!

This event did mean I was immediately stripped of 2 of the 3 bags I was carrying, which lets face it was probably too many... did I really need all his stuff anyway?

Did I secretly want this?

Will I later realise that I smashed our window and stole my own things??

Do I secretly want to be Brad Pitt and have naked punch ups in pub basements???

Tyler 

Will this set me free from the shackles of commercialism, finally being able to embrace the free spirit traveler vibe, slip on some Thai fisherman pants and stop washing????

Annoying backpackers 

Nah I think I just want my i-touch back.

The Wild Wild West

When I think about WA, a hot and isolated place with a raw, rugged beauty springs to mind. So I was ready for the blazing sun minus the ozone layer, the huge expanses of red, rocky barren earth and the small unassuming outpost towns that seemed from a forgotten age and had a ghost-like quality but what I wasn’t counting on, especially in the south, was the chilly nights (enough to warrant a fire in summer!) and gale force winds. Not to mention a sea temp that was reminiscent of the North Sea…in winter – and we wonder why they call us the Wingeing Poms! So we were about to discover that WA wasn’t all beach bums and bikinis, it was a pretty unique environment and not a particularly hospitable one but that’s not to say we didn’t like what we found, we absolutely loved it. It was just a question of toughening up!

One of the first things that struck us on our WA tour, as we travelled south through Margaret River and down to Denmark, was that it was like entering a living, breathing natural history museum. The passage of time was etched right there into the trees and coastline – all you had to do was take a look. In a “grass is always greener kind of way”, I know the Aussies like coming to Europe to experience our ‘history’ – Architecture, Art, the Ye Olde Taverns…. but to us, Australia’s natural heritage seemed way more impressive simply because these natural wonders had survived this climate and harsh conditions and were still going! Take the Karri trees for example, these trees, indigenous only to South Western Australia, are 400 years old. Some of them have even been half burned down in bush fires and they just keep on growing right round the dead timber like some amazing unstoppable force of nature. The Aussie equivalent being a trip round the Tower of London and meeting Anne Boleyn on the way round, still alive just with her head a jaunty angle!

Gloucester Tree 

 

  The view from the top of The Gloucester Tree 

But it’s not only the Karri trees that favour WA as their exclusive home. We soon realised that a lot of the fauna, flora and landscapes that we were about to discover were unique to this specific environment and that this was a truly special place.

“Geology Rocks!” at least, that’s what Ross from Friends thinks. I never quite got where he was coming from until we made our way south towards The Gap and The Natural Bridge. Quite unassuming names for a coastline which was carved out of granite during one of the earths major evolutionary stages, when Gondwana (the ancient supercontinent of Asia, Australia and Antartica) was wrenched apart, separating Australia from Antartica forever, 450 million years ago.  

We just stood in absolute awe, taking it all in, or at least trying to take it all in. To be honest, it was a bit mind boggling, especially when we found out that identical markings from the split are also still in tact, thousands of miles away, on the sister piece of granite, in Antartica.

 
 Natural Bridge (As the earth continues to evolve, The Natural Bridge will crumble and fall)

Fall into The Gap 

Next we headed North, past Perth, and onto Cervantes, a town best viewed from a speeding car. Luckily for Cervantes, they play host to The Pinnacles, which were worth applying the brakes for.We entered The Pinnacles at sunset, but felt like we had been transported to the moon, such was the other-worldly effect of the limestone pillars scattered across the dessert floor.The Pinnacles were formed several thousand years ago when shelly sand dunes were cemented together by percolating rainfall, which is a slightly less romantic description for the effect that these captivating shapes had at sunset. So I’ll let the pictures do the talking….

 

  The Pinnacles

After The Pinnacles, we had a haul ass drive up to Kalbarri. You know how it is, you get in the zone and the miles start flying past and your surroundings become a bit of a blur. This is exactly the state I was in when Rob shouted: “Oh my God, look at that!” To my right, was a bright pink lake. The Lonely Planet had really dropped the ball in neglecting to mention this! It was one of the most startlingly beautiful spectacles I had ever seen and we couldn’t take our eyes off it. Luckily a wildly careering Jackaroo doesn’t have too many obstacles on a deserted outback road.

The Pink Lake

The unofficial quest to find the oldest living organism in WA culminated in a visit to Hamelin Pools, just outside Denham. A half hour round trip on foot in the blazing sun, (imagine being in a sauna with a hair dryer on) which left me bright purple in the face a good hour afterwards, delivered the Stramatolites - The first life form on earth, without which oxygen breathing mammals (ie us!) would not even exist. Surely this could not be trumped!

The Stramatolites

It was a little bit like: “Is anyone else just seeing a load of rocks in the sea?” But despite my purple face and near exhaustion, I managed to find some appreciation for these ‘living fossils’ - a girl doesn’t get to see a breathing rock every day of the week after all, especially one which experts thought were extinct until the late 1950’s and which dated back 3500 million years.

And so it was time to hang up the Akubra, and shed our cowboy boots for another day. Our tour of the Wild West was complete and there was a steak with my name on it waiting in the air conditioned heaven of chez Bradbury. So long WA, it’s been a pleasure. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No country for young men

Arriving in Australia was a shock to the system such are the immediate differences with Asia (and perhaps the festive booze on the plane could have had something to do with it…)

Kids on the flight were concerned about the new look Santa

Festive high jinks 

Welcome to Australia...

-You can drink the water straight out of the tap!

-You don’t feel like you’re getting ripped off by the locals!

-Look a hot shower!

-My God, something that resembles a solid deposit in the toilet!

Taking our guided tour through Perth felt like a visit to a 1940 hollywood movie set, everything is so clean and smart - you can almost smell the paint drying on the brand new gleaming houses. Gone was the dirt and grime of cities like Saigon or Bangkok, Perth was buffed to a high shine!

 
 Perth on typically sparkling form

The difference that that really hurt us was is the cost - it took precisely 2 hours to realise that our superficial money saving in Asia would be hopelessly swallowed up by the harsh reality of travelling in Australia - seriously when did the Aussies grow the balls to charge over £6 for a pint!? Do these upstarts realise where we were from!??

Perth is the most isolated city in the world (something the locals seem secretly proud of) and it sprawls along the coast for miles - everyone craving the cooling effect of the ocean and the famed Fremantle Doctor. This is the name given to the afternoon sea breeze that brings the temperature to a more sociable level of 35 – without it it’s highly unlikely Perth would have such a population. So maybe it’s no surprise that the breeze is spoken about so much by the locals, seriously people LOVE to talk about the weather here, especially the wind, it seems that English traditions extend way beyond just cricket and drinking.

Our WA adventure began in earnest when we left the protective womb of The Bradbury’s air conditioned pad and hit the road, the plan was to head south to the famed surf breaks and wineries of Margaret River, before calling in at the south coast town of Denmark and finally trekking north along the Brand Highway up the Coral Coast to Exmouth.

This was as good as it got for me... 

With our new found realisation that our Great British Pound was in fact feeble, any ideas of living the high life were quickly replaced with camping, a diet of beans and drinking as much cheap red wine as we could get our hands on! This change in tact was refreshing though, we were on our own for once.

WA is billed as being The Real Australia and the landscape certainly lived up to my expectation with a beautiful blue ocean pounding against some truly rugged coast line, bizarre rock formations and the ever present red earth giving ‘life’ to scrubs and maingy plants – you really do have to wonder how people have survived here for so long, it’s a harsh environment that could easily punish the naive.

Kalbarri National Park  

This beauty seems to come at a cost, with dangers lurking around every corner, the island being patrolled by killer sharks in the ocean, crocodiles in the north and venomous snakes and spiders in the bush. Despite this the locals seem to shrug it all off and there is a general acceptance that ‘She’ll be right’ even if it is a Tiger shark swimming past you when you fish… “oh it’s ok, the sharks are well fed in these parts.” The only danger Aussies do seem afraid of is the sun, oh how we mocked when we arrived from Asia with golden tans and observed the pale locals move from shade to aircon and back to shade – we now know why.

The weather as you head north in Summer is brutal - 40 degree in the shade, a serious lack of water and people on the road does make you wonder how you’d feel breaking down or blowing a tyre on one of the deserted ‘highways’ - Real Aussies seem to like their roads like they like their men, straight and silent. The people you do meet are everything stereotypes are made for, narly old men who have zero use for shoes, friendly but slightly scary large women, gap tooth feral hicks, there certainly seems to be a lack of metrosexuals here – it’s all too obvious why Ches and Jake are more at home in London!

This country demands respect, but what is refreshing is that your experience of it isn’t guarded by a nanny state – the dangers (Whether it crossing a fast flowing creek, a 10k trek in the bush or 4x4 trip in the outback) are there for all to see but it’s up to you to if you want to take them – just don’t come crying to us when you hurt yourself you big Sheila.

The Troll Cup spurring Faye on...

A trip into Francios Peron Nation Park seemed like the perfect place to test ourselves against the harshest of climates and prove that pommes do more than whinge. This national park was only accessible by 4x4 with the sufficient ground clearance and with their tyres lowered to 15psi. It wasn’t a tourist hotspot so we were told to bring at least 20L of water because any ‘issues’ might take a while to resolve.

We set off into the park, not passing a car in either direction with the sun a cool 39 degrees outside and immediately I wondered if this was a good idea. Driving on the soft red sand was hard, the car squirmed about and struggled to find grip, sliding left and right, eventually slowing down and getting bogged in a hole. Shit. Only 10mins in and the car was stuck. Outside was scorching, the sand seemingly burning right through my thongs, as I tried in vain to dig the car out of the newly created hole… the back wheels just dug in further.

Thankfully within 10mins (It felt longer) a car full of Aussies came to our rescue, wandered over (naturally sans shoes) and kindly pointed out that the 4 wheel drive wasn’t engaged on our front wheels! While looking at me with a mixture of embarrassment and concern they set us on our way, even going so far as advise us on where it gets really bad up ahead… they’re all so bloody nice.

 
Skipjack point, Francios Peron Nation Park

Touring the park became a massive challenge but so much fun, sliding around on the sand seemed to be easier the faster you went, or that’s what I reckon anyway. All this heat was taking its toll and we were desperate for a swim, but having already spotted an assortment of sharks, Manta Rays and Sting Rays from the headland we proceeded with caution even though we were in a safe swim area. I starred into the water for a good 5 mins while standing in the shallows, just to, you know, double check… and there it was, a shadow lurking only 2m away – I stepped back as the shark swam along the shore and around the reef… maybe swimming at Shark Bay wasn’t such a clever idea.

Awesome Manta Rays 

The drive out of the park was riotous, we didn’t see another car for 6 hours so no chance of any more local help - this aint a place to get stuck in. Finally out on a proper road I now know it takes more than walking around in bare feet to be called a Real Australian.