An Aussie Chrimbo

On landing in Melbourne on 22rd December, our chauffeur (Dad) conveyed us to our lodgings, namely my aunt Gill's beautiful house in the leafy suburb of Ivanhoe. The photo also shows Banjo in the foreground, one of the two adorable Jack Russells in residence.

A couple of days later Gill and husband Rob hosted the Bowers family Christmas, laying on a marvellous spread for some 21 people! Unfortunately, we don't seem to have taken any photos during the feast, just some afterwards when I've decided that wearing the table decorations is a good idea (nothing to do with the excellent local vino).

On Boxing Day, we jumped into a rental car with Dad, his girlfriend Catherine and her son Jonathan and toddled off to Guthega in the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales for a few days. After the 10 hour drive we arrived at Doorak - the ski lodge where we were to stay (of course it's summer here at the moment, so there's no snow).

As we climbed into the mountains, the lowland bush gave way to sparser forests of snow gum, one of the 700 Eucalyptus species that dominate the Australian flora. The gnarled trunks embrace emergent rocks and huddle low to the ground in an effort to cling to the unforgiving mountains.

Bush fires in 2002 stripped huge stands of snow gums of their greenery. Being infrequently subjected to fire, snow gums regenerate more slowly than their lowland cousins. The new shoots of the snow gums grow from the roots, leaving the defoliated limbs as a spectral reminder of the old forest.

In places the extent of that fire is starkly obvious, like here at the boundary between burnt (right) and unburnt (left) forest.

Over the following days we did some gentle hiking through the bleak landscape of Mount Kosciuszko National Park, in which the lodge is situated. The weather changed by the hour, bouncing from fierce sunshine to rain and even sleet at times.

To cross the Snowy River on one walk, the menfolk gallantly pulled the ladies across on the “flying fox” (well, we do have to make them feel needed in this liberated age).

Further up-river, we crossed again on a wobbly old suspension bridge.

Our evenings were spent at base (there's nowhere else to go!), either having a barbeque on the balcony or being fed like kings by Catherine from the communal kitchen.

One chilly and blustery day we climbed Mount Kosciuszko - the highest peak in Australia, again crossing the Snowy River en route. The first European to climb the peak named it after an admired compatriot, the Polish freedom fighter General Tadeusz Kosciuszko.

At just 2238 metres (7310 feet), it hardly ranks among the highest peaks in the world, but the haunting beauty of the landscape makes the diminutive Kosciuszko a fitting crown for this ancient continent.

We arrived back in Melbourne from Guthega late in the afternoon on New Year's Eve. Andy and I quickly showered and changed and headed into town for the fireworks display. We arrived at the Yarra river in town in time for the first round of fireworks at 9pm. Having realised there was no booze allowed in the the streets, and no chance of beating the scrum to get into a pub, we decided to head back to Ivanhoe for midnight, where we shared a very civilised glass (or three) of wine with Gill and Rob, and watched the hugely entertaining fireworks in Sydney on TV!

As we couldn't start our van search on New Year's Day (being a public holiday), we headed out on the tram to the beach suburb of St. Kilda to do some sightseeing. The photo shows the famous entrance to the Luna Park funfair.

Our van-hunting started in earnest on Jan 2nd. After 3 or 4 days of viewing the good, the bad, and the oh-so-ugly (we even blew one up on a test drive!), we settled on a commercial Ford Transit (an empty van) with 145,000km on the clock. Andy beat the dealer down to a good price, and we drove it away, complete with roadworthy certificate and registration.

The Salvos (that's the Salvation Army in English) supplied us with wood with which to construct an interior for the van, in the form of a wardrobe and bookshelf unit.

Andy toiled tirelessly for several days to construct an elegant and functional interior, in which a table and bench arrangement collapses to form a bed.

There is also a kitchen unit with lift-up work-surfaces and built-in stove (a photo should appear here soon...). Using Grandma's sewing machine, I ran up some cushion covers for the sections of sponge mattress that make up the bed-cum-bench seat cushions, as well as some curtains. And hey presto, a camper van is born! We call the van Dame Edna because she's an Australian Tranny. Ha ha.

You'll be pleased to know that getting the van together wasn't a case of “all work and no play”. One weekend, Gill and Rob took us out of the city to their lovely vineyard for a picnic.

Another night we went to see my very talented cousin James (Gill and Rob's son, on the left in the photo) playing keyboard with his jazz/funk band.

We hope to hit the road in a day or two. We'd really like to thank Gill and Rob for their awesome hospitality – it was so good we'll be back for more when we return to Melbourne in June!

Soggy down under

The weather was kind to us as we continued down the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand, allowing us to take a few tramping forays through lush jungle and along rugged coast.

Our next major stop was the Franz Josef Glacier, which gradually creeps down from the peaks of the Southern Alps, loaded with rocky debris. Here a rain shower rolled in, which barely abated until we left NZ. The powers that be had closed the path to the face of the glacier for some flim-flam safety reasons, so the position from which this photo was taken was the closest we could get. Had we stood on that spot 100 years ago, we would be buried under glacier ice. On the other hand, 40 years ago we would have seen no ice from this point at all, as the glacier had retreated up the canyon and out of sight (pity the scientists who study climate change).

To get a closer look at a glacier, we headed 20km up the road to Fox Glacier. Here, the powers that be had only advised against approaching the glacier, without prohibiting it.

So we clamboured down the valley wall to get our close-up with the ice (the ice is that grubby wall of stuff behind Andy). Incredibly, as we watched for about 30 minutes, we could actually see the grubby mass of ice at the front of the glacier creep down the valley. Occasionally large chunks of rock would slide from the top and crash to the ground ahead of the glacier (needless to say, we didn't stand too close!).

The rain was constant for the next few days. We took a hike to a remote beach to try to spot some penguins, but it seemed they didn't like the rain either and were hiding out. All we saw was this moron impersonating a penguin.

A day and a half after arriving in the town of Wanaka, the rain lifted, and we were finally able to appreciate the tranquil lakeside scenery (as well as the giant hand).

When the sun did finally come out we were able to go on a day's canyoning trip, which we had been postponed from the previous day due to the deluge. We were driven out into the mountains, where we climbed up a steep hillside with our guide and another couple of tourists, before jumping into a canyon.

The first step was to learn how to abseil on a practice slope, before going over the edge to abseil for real down the side of a waterfall.

And then another waterfall...

And so on...

And the waterfalls we didn't abseil, we slid down.

And the waterfalls we didn't slide down, we jumped!

Some of us may have got a little over-excited!

After the thrills and spills of canyoning, we chilled out for a while around Lake Tekapo, whose extraordinary turquoise colour is attributable to sediment washing down from the glaciers. The lupins were also putting on an impressive display for us (beautiful despite being an introduced and invasive species).

When the rain started again, we found amusement in the small town of Geraldine. In the back of his wife's knitwear shop, we met a fascinating amateur mathematician who had set up a cottage industry in puzzle-making. His other crowning achievement was that he had made a half-scale copy of the Bayeux tapestry in mosaic out of pieces of the wife's knitting machines!

Being insatiable geeks, we spent a good couple of hours trying out his geometric and numeric puzzles, with Andy setting a new record for completing one of them in the quickest time ever.

Our time in New Zealand ended with a day in Christchurch. After a pleasant stroll around the botanical gardens and compact city centre, we handed the rental car back and caught our flight to Melbourne.

Christmas and New Year in Melbourne will be coming up next. Happy 2009 my darlings!

Antipodean antics

Needless to say, we were pretty pooped after our trans-Pacific flight to Auckland. We picked up the hire-car and Andy heroically drove us to Rotorua, where we found a place to sleep. The car is a 1997 Nissan Sunny 1.3L automatic, which we've wittily nick-named “Sunny Jim”. Our rough plan was to speed through the North Island – spending only 4 of our 17 days there – before crossing to the South Island, as we have been told that the South Island is where it's at. We will then fly out of Christchurch to be in Melbourne just in time for Christmas.

Our first stop of Rotorua is famed for its thermal features resulting from volcanic activity (just like Yellowstone). However it seems that we can't have been terribly impressed by the bubbling mud and steaming fumaroles, as we apparently took no photos! You know how it is – been there done that... Instead, it seems that we were rather taken with the Maori wood-carvings that were dotted about Rotorua (no, Andy hasn't had a growth spurt – it's a sculpture).

Heading south-east, we found ourselves in the jungle of Te Urewera National Park. Andy got his first taste of driving on New Zealand's impressively serpentine backcountry roads, and loved every minute. We also got the first of many soakings, courtesy of the kiwi weather, which has nearly as many turns as the roads.

The jungle itself is just magical. Tree-ferns and other utterly alien-looking shrubs jostle for ground-space, while dripping mosses blanket every surface.

We made our way down the east coast of the North Island fairly swiftly and uneventfully, arriving in Wellington on 9th December, ready to catch the early ferry from there the following morning. Having expected to merely pass through Wellington, we were pleasantly surprised to find that it is a thoroughly attractive city. A visit to the lovely botanical gardens situated atop one of the city's many hills was followed by a stroll through the compact downtown and a visit to the Te Papa museum.

To get from top to bottom of Wellington we took the historic cable car. Although less elaborate than San Francisco's cable car system (having just 1 line with 4 stops), it was equally fun and far less hair-raising!

While at Te Papa, Andy was very excited to spot this little gem – the legendary Daytona-winning bike that was built in a garden shed by kiwi motor-enthusiast John Britten.

The next morning we drove Sunny Jim to the ferry terminal where the three of us boarded a ferry for Picton on the South Island. Amusingly, “Portsmouth to Cherbourg” was still visible on the side of the boat, depite having been repainted to read “Wellington to Picton”.

When we arrived on the South Island, we started west on the road to Abel Tasman National Park. On the way to the park we stopped at one of NZ's excellent tourist information offices to inquire about campsites. Somehow while we were there, a casual enquiry about hang-gliding lead us to book a tandem flight starting in 45 minutes time! So off we went, a few kilometres up the road to the airfield at Motueka for a flight. We each had a turn riding tandem with the instructor, with me going first. First they zip you into a body sleeve cum harness getup.

Then you are clipped in so that you are suspended from the wing of the hang-glider, with the instructor suspended below.

Once strapped in, the hang-glider is towed into the air by a microlight (a similar contraption to the hang-glider, but with the addition of an engine). The photo shows the view from the hang-glider ahead to the microlight (below are fields of those yummy NZ Braeburn apples we all know and love!). Being towed up was exciting, but hardly a novel sensation – it was just like flying in a plane, but in the open air. However, at 2500 feet, when the towing line was disconnected, it instantly became another experience altogether. Instead of being noisily tugged along and buffeted by the wind, as soon as the tow-rope fell away, we were gliding silently and effortlessly; literally free as a bird. It was just mind-blowing. The instructor let us control the craft ourselves for a few minutes, and then he did some awesome swooping and circling to really get the adrenaline pumping, before taking us down for a gentle landing. We couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces for hours.

We spent the next day in Abel Tasman National Park. As it's inaccessible by road, we took an hour-long water-taxi ride up the coast, spotting seals and black shags along the way.

From the drop-off point we took a leisurely hike through the verdant jungle, crossing one of NZ's famous swing-bridges along the way.

We followed the coastline track past rugged headlands and idyllic sandy coves for around 10km to meet another water-taxi, which then returned us to camp.

From Abel Tasman, we headed south and west, cutting off the remote north-west corner of the South Island, to hit the west coast at Westport. Driving south along the coast, we were presented with a new wild seascape at every turn.

We stayed a night in Punakaiki in Paparoa National Park. Here, the jungle sits atop karst limestone that has eroded to form chasms and potholes galore. Particularly fine are the “Pancake Rocks” that are exposed where the land meets the sea. It is thought that the pancake effect is the result of stylobedding, a chemical process in which the pressure of overlying sediments creates alternating durable and weak bands. Crashing waves have forced large blowholes through the stratified limestone stacks, creating spectacular spumes at high tide.

Otherwise, our time along the west coast has largely been spent on the great kiwi tradition of “tramping” (hiking) in the lush forests that cling to the coastal hills.

In the next episode, we will be exploring glaciers and going for another adrenalin-pumping adventure...

A week before the flight back to New Jersey, the Patemans set up home in a shabby Travelodge near San Francisco Airport. Although our location, squeezed as it was between airport and interstate, did not provide the most picturesque (or quiet) base, it was cheap and convenient for the city (there was also a McDonalds next door...).

Staying in the motel allowed us to empty the G-dog of all our possessions and attempt to make our home of 5 months look (and smell) like a normal vehicle again. As you might imagine, during our time in the USA, we amassed a van full of gear. As it was not possible to carry it all to NZ, we packed a crate full of our most prized possessions (bicycles, tools and some camping gear) and bunged it on a ship to Australia. The rest of our stuff was either binned or donated to the local charity shop, depending on state of decay.

Within a couple of days of placing ad for Grayham on “Craig's list” (an internet based "for sale" site popular in the States) we received several responses. Two of the interested parties came to take a look at the G-Dog. The one who seemed most interested was a girl who wanted to buy the van for her dog-boarding business. Before doing anything else, she pulled open the side door and counted how many pooches she could cram in the back. The fact that she wasn't so fussed about the condition of the van's interior made us feel that we were onto a winner. Sure enough, she called us back to offer us $1700 cash (which was actually $25 more than we bought it for!) - needless to say, we bit her hand off.

We were very sad to see the back of the G-Dog. He had served us well for 12,000 miles. We couldn't even bring ourselves to remove the bumper stickers that told the story of our trip across the States.

Between chores, we did manage to squeeze in another day's sight-seeing in San Francisco, visiting Chinatown and the San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park. Unfortunately though, we managed to choose one of San Francisco's damper days.

Our return to New Jersey to see Grandma and Grandpa for Thanksgiving was a welcome rest after the frantic week of de-vanning in San Francisco. While we were there, we realised that we hadn't actually been to the East coast on our so-called “coast-to-coast” voyage. To amend this wrong, we belatedly dipped our toes in the Atlantic on a day-trip the beautiful beach at Belmar, New Jersey.

On returning to San Francisco, we spent one last night in the manky Travelodge, before boarding the the 13 hour flight to Auckland the next evening. Never have we had such a pleasant flight - thank you Air New Zealand. The flight took us over not only the equator, but also the international date line, which caused us to lose the 5th December entirely. (Where did it go, I wonder? Probably to the same place that those weekly departmental seminars went, along with the hours after my second beer.) So door number 5 on our advent calendar will remain forever closed.

And so, on to the Antipodes, where we have already found that free wifi is scarce...!