Hinchinbrook: Day 3

Yesterday Luke was up early enough to see the sunrise over the ocean.  On hearing his reports of how lovely it was, I promised myself I'd get up in time to see it today.  I duly set my alarm clock for 5:50 and was dressed and out of my tent by 6.  I hadn't realised, however, quite how dark it would still be, or just how long the trail from the campsite back to the beach would seem.  It only took about 10 minutes but it was terrifying.  For a start, except for my feeble torch, it was pitch black (any early morning light failed to reach the ground through the trees).  Secondly, every time something moved in the forest, I jumped out of my skin, and there were no shortage of creatures rummaging around.  I had rats, frogs and toads cross my path and each one scared the bejesus out of me.  When I finally made it to the beach, my torch shone across the 'beware of crocodiles' sign.  I hesitantly progressed, only to find that the sky was completely covered with dense, menacing clouds and that it was beginning to rain.  Glancing at my watching, I saw it was still 15 minutes until the sun was due to pop over the horizon.  At that point I gave up and miserably returned to my tent, but not before having to make it up the dark path again.  It was not the best start to the morning.

An extra hour back in my tent and I was ready for a second start to the morning.  About half an hour into today's walk, Luke and I made a total hash of crossing Zoe Creek.  We spent around half an hour trying to find a place where we could rock hop across.  All throughout the walk, it was clear that if there was an easy or an awkward way of going about something, I would invariably opt for the latter.  Zoe Creek was no exception.  I'm not sure quite why we were so unwilling to get our feet wet, but the time we wasted there cost us dearly later on.

The next section of the walk took us to its highest point, 260m above sea level. All up the climb there were great views back over Zoe Bay and the island. Higher up, we were out of the forest and into a landscape of heath, ferns and grasstrees, though there were still a few opportunities to get our feet wet: 

Mid-morning, it started to rain, a state of affairs that would continue for the rest of the time we were on the trail.  At first it did little to detract from our enjoyment.  The scenery simply became a different kind of lovely:

The rain got heavier as the day progressed and I kept reminding myself that I was, after all, in the rainforest.  If I had to be getting wet anywhere, this was an excellent place for it.

Learning from our lesson this morning, by the time we reached Diamantia Creek, the biggest on the trail, we wasted no time.  I didn't even take my boots off because at least they gave me a semblance of grip on the stony creek bed.  I waded straight in and before I knew it was bum deep in fast-flowing water, desperately trying not to slip or lose my balance under the weight of my pack.  I was sure glad to get across that.

And then it REALLY started tipping it down.  The remaining 40 minutes into the campsite seemed interminable.  I realised that I couldn't get any wetter so just went with that but Luke was starting to show signs of breaking.

By the time we got to the campsite, I was as wet as I have ever been in my whole life.  I felt far wetter than coming out of a bath, shower or swimming pool, because not only was I wet, but all my clothes were too.  My beloved hiking boots were soaked inside and out.  The manufacturer's claims of them being waterproof obviously doesn't extend to wading bum-deep through a creek:

We were then faced with the unhappy prospect of it being only 2:30, it being far too wet to set up the tents and there being no discernible way of getting dry nor warm.  There was another waterfall at this campsite and I'd told myself throughout the walk that I'd jump in as soon as we got there - I couldn't get any wetter - but when we arrived I collapsed.  Instead, six of us at the campsite squished and huddled under one tiny tarp and tried to pretend we were enjoying ourselves.

Late afternoon the rain let up enough to pitch the tents, swim in plunge pool of the waterfall, change into my last remaining dry clothes and hang up all the wet ones in the slim hope that they'd be dry in the morning.  There was nothing left to do but eat an early dinner and tuck in for a very early night.

Hinchinbrook: Day 2, Part 2

The afternoon of Day 2 was interesting.  We had read in our trail guide "be prepared to get your feet wet as there are several creek crossings and swampy sections".  We were indeed prepared to get our feet wet in the creeks but made valiant efforts to bypass the swamps.  This involved lots of swinging from branches, balancing on precarious logs and making leaps of faith from one distant stone or tree to another.  At one point I slipped into a swamp and the swamp in turn slipped into my boots, where it remained for the rest of the trip.  Just when we thought we were in the clear, we reached this:

We spent a good while looking for the path only to discover that there wasn't one.  (The next marker is on the tree on the far right of the picture.)  For some reason, this struck us as hilarious.  Because my boots were already soaked so I lost no time wading through this knee deep swamp.  Luke tried to find a way round and made a remarkably good stab at it, finally falling in with only a couple of meters to go.  In his attempts he had deviated so far from the markers that he had to scramble up a bank and through think patches of a thorny plant called hairy mary which hooks into whatever packs, clothing or skin happen to pass its way.  We remained in surprisingly good spirits throughout and I earned some kudos points with Luke for not having 'broken' when, he claimed, "most girls would break".

Our trail guide claimed the walk that day would take six hours. Since we had completed yesterday's walk in under the suggested time, we'd taken a detour this morning to see an extra bay, but still expected to reach the next campsite in about six hours.  We had, however, been walking at a fairly leisurely pace and taking plenty of breaks.  The episode at the swamp set us back further.  Six hours after leaving camp this morning it was clear that we were still a fair way off.  Luke was not happy.  I was faring a little better but would have had no objections to being teleported to the campsite at that point.  Thankfully, we found an atmospherically lovely clearing, full of strangely bent trees and misty mountain views (Luke's favourite type of landscape) in which to regroup.

Eight hours after heading out this morning, we finally collapsed into camp.  Thankfully, I just about found the energy to make it another twenty minutes up the path, where I was rewarded with a swim in this pool:

Whilst not as spectacular as some of the waterfalls on the Top End trip, I cannot even begin to tell you how gorgeous and refreshing a spot it was for a plunge after such a long day, and all the better for the effort required to get there.

Hinchinbrook: Day 2, Part 1

Day 2 brought about 10.5km of diverse scenery.  Beaches, rainforest, mangrove swamps, creeks, all of it beautiful.

Here are some shots from the morning:

A note about creeks.  We soon realised that whenever we reached a creek, we better hope that there were rocks available for hopping across, otherwise our feet were going to get wet.  On the Annapurna Circuit we crossed 116 bridges.  On the Thorsborne Trail the bridge tally was zero.  This was proper bushwalking.

The gorgeous fan palm at the aptly named Fan Palm Creek:

Hinchinbrook: Day 1

A view of Hinchinbrook Island from the ferry that transported us there:

The ferry ride took us around tropical island and then through increasingly narrow mangrove-lined waterways.  It felt like traveling back in time.  From where we were dropped off, a few minutes walk along a boardwalk brought us out onto this beach:

Not a bad start at all.  In fact, I couldn't wipe the grin from my face.

From beach into tropical rainforest, thus finally fulfilling my dream:

We ate lunch on the beach at Nina Bay, under the coconut palms.  It had a tuna, avocado and sand wrap, followed by an apple, cinnamon and sand tea.  

The first challenging part of the walk came after lunch.  First of all, we couldn't find the trail off the beach.  Part of the reason I'd wanted someone to walk with is that I have a fear of getting lost.  Well, it turned out that Luke has an even worse sense of direction than me.  Part of the reason it was hard to find is that the route involved scrambling over numerous boulders and up a small cliff.  It was hard going, especially with a pack.  On the Annapurna Circuit we'd had porters, but this time I was carrying all my own gear, including tent, stove, spare gas and four days worth of food, probably about 14kg in total, which makes balancing and climbing exponentially harder than with a small day pack.

Best wildlife sighting of the trip - this massive (I estimate it was just under a meter long) goanna:

By the time we got to  Little Ramsey Bay, where we were to camp for the night, we were shattered.  Imagine our delight when we found a Mars bar lying unattended with no sign of humans anywhere in the vicinity and no record of anyone else having stayed there for a couple of nights.  An hour later, and fifty-nine minutes too late, its rightful owners returned.  Let's just say that they weren't very sporting about it.  

We spent the evening wandering around the beach, admiring the mistiness of the lagoon and splendour of Mt Bowen which, at 1121m, dominates the island:

At 7pm, by which time we'd had dinner, the sun had long since set and we'd exhausted our interest in playing word games, we called it a night.

Hinchinbrook: Introduction and Luke

I've already described the circumstances by which I came to book onto the Thorsborne Trail on Hinchinbrook Island in this post.

Hinchinbrook Island is situated off the coast across from Cardwell, which is three hours south of Cairns.  At 399 km^2, it's the largest island national park in Australia.  The Thorsborne Trail runs 32km on the eastern side of the island (the side not looking back over the mainland) and is fairly flat.  The trail is most comfortably walked in three and a half days.  It is widely considered to be one of the greatest walks in the world.  Having just come off the Annapurna Circuit, I thought to myself that this would be a relative doddle.  As to whether I was right in that presumption you'll have to wait until the conclusion to find out.

I have also already briefly mentioned Luke, whom I met on the Top End tour and whom I asked to join me for this bushwalk.  If anyone had told me that I would opt to spend five days with a 19 year-old, grungy metal enthusiast who smokes like a chimney, swears like a trooper and uses 'gay' as a descriptor for anything he thinks is stupid or lame, I'd have laughed in their face.  Luke was all this, but also fantastically bright, extremely well read, extensively travelled and a talented musician.  He was also hilarious.  I couldn't have asked for a better companion.

I learnt a lot from him, in particular about not judging people from first impression (it is, of course, something I try never to do, but to my shame, I did with him).  Also, he was fresh out of school, and the worst kind of London comp at that, so he had lots of good tips about how, as a teacher, I should cope with 15 year old versions of himself.  I think now that if I ever have boys in my class who are obnoxious and getting themselves into all kinds of trouble, I'll think to myself, "it's OK, maybe they'll turn out like Luke".  In return, Luke learnt why one shouldn't use 'gay' as a generic insult!

Like I did for the Annapurna trek, I'll be writing up a day by day account of the Thorsborne Trail, mostly so I have enough blog space to put up lots of pretty pictures, though I'll probably keep the text to a few anecdotes and captions.

Cairns

From Darwin I flew to Cairns and spent a couple of days there getting ready for the Thorsborne Trail.  I didn't like the city at all and, in saying that, have already devoted more space on this blog to the place than it deserves.

Top End: Day 5

It's quite something to wake up in a swag and lie there, all snug in the outdoors, watching the reddest sunrise you've ever seen. So began the final day of my Top End tour.

The main reason I'd signed up on the 5 day as opposed to the 3 day tour was the chance to spend a day canoeing in Katherine Gorge but I'd been told, an hour into the trip (the same time I realised I'd been booked onto the wrong tour), that gorge was closed to paddlers until further notice due to a pesky saltwater crocodile who was resisting capture and who was liable to make life a misery for said paddlers, if indeed it let them continue in life at all. Instead we were to take a cruise.

Imagine my dismay, then, when, as we boarded the boat, I saw other visitors climb into canoes and paddle off. The park services had opened up the river that morning but too late for us. My enjoyment of the cruise was therefore severely tempered. That was a shame because really the gorge is quite lovely:

Marcus, in his final act of being accommodating, was waiting as the cruise came to an end and told me and Rob that if we wanted, we could go straight back out in a kayak whilst everyone else in the group went for a helicopter ride (we had both already opted out of this activity). We were delighted and a few moments later were heading back up the same stretch of water we'd just cruised down. It was, indeed, infinitely better than being in a boat with sixty other people. Being that bit lower made us feel far more connected to the river, not least because we were getting much wetter. Moreover, we could paddle at our own pace. Best of all, without the boat engine, it was much quieter, allowing us to appreciate the gorge in all its natural wonder. We even had time to jump out and swim. We knew there were no saltwater crocs in the water (otherwise the canoe hire would still be shut), but we had seen, much further down from where we went for our dip, some freshwater crocodiles. On the phone to my parents later that evening, I had great fun exaggerating about my swim in 'croc infested waters'. They didn't see the funny side!

After that, we drove back to Darwin. The tour was at an end. It was a great five days but I was ready to move on.

Top End: Day 4

As lovely as the plunge pool at the bottom of Gunlom Falls, where we'd been the day before, was, the real treat is the pools at the top, where one can swim and gaze out over an abundance of park at the same time:

Being there, I couldn't help but think "I wonder what everyone else I know is doing right now" and conclude that it was unlikely to be anything like as amazing as what I was experiencing.

Because Marcus liked us so much, he took us to a place that he doesn't normally take groups. This was Moline Falls. It is not marked on any visitor maps. There is no sign to it from the road. There are very few tour companies that have a permit to take people there. Marcus described it as a 'boutique' falls. Whilst it is not as impressive, in terms of height or volume of water, as the main waterfall attractions, it was totally unspoilt, a splendid swimming spot and felt like a very special place to be:

Marcus took us next to Edith Falls and, still holding good on his word to give us an active tour, took us on a longer walk than he otherwise would have to its upper pools for yet more swimming. I should mention that, throughout the tour, the daytime temperature was in excess of 30 degrees - any opportunity to cool down was always welcome.

A couple of shots of the river between the upper and lower of Edith's pools:

That evening, we cracked open a few beers (as, indeed, we had done every night of the tour), watched the sunset (always impressive in the Top End) and reflected on what a good tour it had been so far, with still one more no doubt fabulous day to come.

Top End: Day 3

Our first stop today was the Kakadu Culture Camp, an opportunity to find out about the land from its traditional owners. I was disappointed. There was nothing that our aboriginal guides told us about their culture that I didn't already know. We threw spears and had a go on didjeridoos. It was contrived and, I thought, fairly pointless, especially when they have such a rich culture and history and creation narrative that we could have been discussing instead. And then there's the whole political aspect of how the aboriginals have been treated since the Europeans first came over, subsequent land claims and their current position in society. Discussing any of that would have been preferable to throwing sticks and blowing into plastic tubes.

The day improved when we went to Jim Jim, an impressive waterfall with water tumbling down 170m. It was all the better for requiring a 45min drive along a bumpy 4WD track and a 45 minute walk to get there. The ensuing swim and scrambling over the surrounding rocks was heavenly.

Unfortunetly, three members of our group, including Luke, were leaving that lunchtime (they were only booked onto the three day tour). They had been the source of so much hilarity that we were all sad to see them go. Such was the cohesion of our group. We got a group photo first. (Luke is second from left in the front):


Kakadu is full of termite mounds. These extraordinary cathedral like structures are built by these incredible insects at a rate of about a metre every ten years. This one is about 50 years old:

The day rounded off with another swim in another waterfall plunge pool, this time at Gunlom Falls. That's the kind of repetitiveness I can cope with! Actually, whilst it may be repetitive to read about, it wasn't at all to visit them. Each waterfall is so different and each has its own charm or power.

We slept in swags. These are essentially large bags of very thick canvas with a mattress at the bottom. You find a spot outdoors, put a sleeping bag inside, zip the canvas up over you and you're as snug as anything under a blanket of stars. And what stars! The night sky out there rivaled the one I'd seen from the Negev. It was actually a pleasure to wake up in the middle of the night and get another look at it.

Top End: Day 2

We spent today in Kakadu National Park, which, at 20,000 square km is approximately the same size as Israel, or nearly eight times bigger than Luxembourg, but only 0.2% of the total size of Australia.

Our first stop was Ubirr to admire and learn about the aboriginal rock art. You can tell that this man was considered a powerful hunter because of his very big penis:

On the climb up Ubirr:

From the top of Ubirr there are stunning 360 degree views of the park. It was breath-takingly beautiful. I'm getting a little bored of how often I'm saying that on this blog! But I can't help it. I really have been seeing extraordinarily stunning sights on my travels:

What that photo throughly fails to capture is the sense of vastness and expansiveness. What made being up there so wonderful was that we could probably see 100km in every direction and yet there was almost no inkling of human impact on the park.

I explained yesterday how I was on the wrong tour. In fact, of the thirteen of us, there were five who had ended up in that position (quite what that says about the organisation of the company we'll just mention in passing). The other eight were all game for upping the active and Marcus, true to his word, obliged. That afternoon, for example, he took us to climb a big rock in the Nourlangie area of the park, with views to rival that from Ubirr, but far quieter because of the relative difficulty of getting up there. The sense of vastness was even more impressive here.

By the end of the day it was obvious that we had a really great group. Everyone got on well and there was a general atmosphere of hilarity and can-do spirit that was to last the whole trip. I've been on plenty of tours and this one was definitely the best in terms of the group dynamics, made even better by our fabulous guide, Marcus. I was thoroughly glad I'd ended up on the wrong tour. In fact, I was in such good spirits that even the following episode seemed hilarious:

The previous night I'd slept badly because the 'beds' in the permanent tent that Caroline (the woman I got on particularly well with) and I had shared were essentially just planks of wood, but I figured that there was an element of roughing it when camping and left it at that. When we got to the campsite on the second night there were a similar range of permanent tents. Caroline and I looked inside and noted to each other our delight at finding camping matresses in this one. Marcus overheard. 'What, you didn't have matresses last night?' he asked, incredulously. We were, of course, supposed to. Meanwhile, Rob and Paul revealed they had had two each. Marcus declared that I'm 'definitely not a whinging Pom'. I think it's one of the best compliments I've ever had!

Top End: Day 1

I had done a great deal of research into which of the multitude of tours of the top end national parks I wanted to go on. It was important to me that I went on one that was geared towards active people and which got as far as possible off the main tourist path, whilst still being affordable. I thought I'd found the perfect one and it seemed even better when the Darwin hostel manager got me a good deal on the price.

There were dozens of people at the meeting point and we were split up into four groups for four different tours. It was with some dismay that I watched the active looking types who were about my age be put in different groups whilst I was left in a group with people who were either a fair bit older or younger. Possibly because it was 6am and I was grumpy, but with the exception of one woman, I didn't immediately warm to anyone in our group. One guy, I couldn't help but note, had murderous eyes. There was also a group of young backpackers, one of whom in particular, looked like trouble and I couldn't imagine having anything in common with him. This was Luke. I turned out that I couldn't have been more wrong in my initial, judgmental impression. He was such a quality guy that within half an hour of speaking him I'd invited him along to come on the Hinchinbrook walk with me. He accepted. But that trip is a whole other story for a whole other blog post.

About an hour into the five day tour, I realised that I'd been booked onto the wrong trip. I had wanted to go with a company called 'Wilderness 4WD (W4WD)' but was instead on a trip by another company run by the same conglomerate, 'Adventure Tours Australia (ATA)'. The two had almost identical itineraries (though in a different order), but W4WD was geared to fit, active youngsters and had great hikes and slept under the stars in swags in remote locations and ATA was not. Needless to say, I was not pleased. In fact, I was angry, and I almost never get angry.

The tour guide, Marcus, could sense my displeasure (maybe something to do with the fact that I was kicking things and swearing not quite under my breath). He was sympathetic to the mix up and assured me that he'd lead as active a tour as he could. His response, plus my general tendency towards positive thinking, soon had me resolved to enjoy myself whatever the case. This was, after all, still five days in an incredibly beautiful part of the world.

Our first stop was Florence Falls in Litchfield National Park, where we spent a good half hour swimming in the plunge pool, which did much to restore my mood (despite having my toe nibbled by an entirely too curious fish). I wasn't kidding about incredibly beautiful part of the world:

Before coming to Australia I had read Bill Bryson's 'Down Under' and absorbed much of his fascination with the country's staggering array of extremely dangerous animals. On the short walk through the forest to the falls, I asked Marcus 'how many creatures are there in this park that could kill me if they wanted to?' 'Heaps,' he replied immediately, then stopped and thought about it some more. 'Heaps'.

Our next stop was Fogg Dam, to admire the wetland birdlife:

A wallaby:

From there towards the Mary River for a wildlife spotting cruise. On the drive there, Marcus was highlighting the dangers of crocs, but also the fact that most accidents happen when alcohol is involved. 'What, crocs are mean when they're drunk?', quipped Rob.From there towards the Mary River for a wildlife spotting cruise. On the drive there, Marcus was highlighting the dangers of crocs, but also the fact that most accidents happen when alcohol is involved. 'What, crocs are mean when they're drunk?', quipped Rob.

(I had a beautiful photo of the river that I'd uploaded to include with the post, but I've just accidentally deleted it. Hopefully, at some point I'll be able to put it in again.)

Many of the croc spotting cruises that get marketed to tourists are terribly gimmicky, with farm-reared crocs trained to jump for the amusement of the crowds. Not so ours, thankfully. The cruise guide, Ol' Ted, was passionate and knowledgeable about crocs, and appropriately scared of them. We saw one that was nearly 5 metres long - that's a big croc. Despite what you see on TV, most of the time crocs just lie on the river banks, but we got a special treat. We got to see this beast eating and I can tell you that those were not jaws I would want to be caught in.

On the drive to the campsite we passed, and I say this with no exaggeration, one of the most spectacularly beautiful and dramatic sights I have ever seen. The forest was on fire. A controlled fire, I hasten to add. Aboriginals have been burning the forest just after the wet season for thousands of years. It clears out the overgrown grasses but the trees retain enough water to survive the fires. This burning significantly decreases the chances of far worse, uncontrolled fires raging through during the dry season. Moreover, the area's ecosystem has evolved around this and now several animals and plants require this burning for their survival.

Anyway, as we drove through the forest, the ground around us was on fire. The bright orange of the flames was matched by the equally bright orange of the sunset. In between, the trees were silhouetted with smoke rising from them. It was stunning. Unfortunately, we couldn't stop for photos, but I did take this one later in the evening, away from the fire.

There was a great atmosphere over dinner. Our group was gelling well and Marcus was proving to be a fab guide. By the end of the day, I was perfectly reconciled to being on this tour.

Darwin

Whilst staying with Caro, I planned to a T and booked everything for the rest of my time in Australia. The fact that there was so much that I wanted to see and do and so little time to see and do it in required some meticulous timetabling.

Before arriving in Australia, I hadn't considered visiting the Top End but Caro pretty much threatened to disown me as a goddaughter if I didn't make it up there. It happened to be the best time of the year for visiting that part of the country - just after the wet season, when the parks are still lush and before they get ridiculously hot. However, in terms of tourism, it's only the beginning of the peak season, so it wouldn't be overly crowded.

So, from Sydney I flew to Darwin, where I had three days to kill before the tour I'd booked into set off.

My time in Darwin did not get off to a good start. I hated the hostel I'd booked into from the moment I walked into the door and the entire experience of staying there did little to challenge that initial reaction. Moreover, none of my bank cards were working and I hardly had any cash. Sorting that out was a saga in itself (I'll spare you the details) and, by the time I was able to head off to the Mindel Beach Sunset Market, the sun had already set. I got lost walking there in the dark. It was a terrible evening.

Though I never really took to Darwin as a whole, there were some excellent activities to keep me amused. The first thing I did was to visit the Supreme Court, where I'd heard there was a worthwhile mosaic. Indeed, there was. Once I was there, and I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, I sat in on one of the court sessions. I was the only spectator of a dispute between an ex-husband and wife over the financial settlement. Because the woman was representing herself, the judge kept on explaing what she could and couldn't do, as well as some of the legalese, which was very helpful for me too! Ultimately it felt somewhat too voyeuristic for my liking and I left before any verdict was announced.

Later that day I visited the Australian Pearling Exhibition, which I was enjoying before it become increasingly obvious that it was essentially one big ad for the Paspaley jewellery company. That evening, I got chatting to a guy at the hostel who had in his favour a striking physical resemblance to Brad Pitt. On the downside, personality and intelligence-wise, he turned out to be rather like said actor in 'Burn After Reading'.

The next day I spent six utterly engrossing hours at the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory. They have an exceptionally fine collection of Aboriginal art and artefacts, an excellent natural history room full of Australia's weird and wonderful creatures, a moving exhibit on Cyclone Tracy, which had absolutely ravaged Darwin in 1974, a show of artworks by high school leavers, some of which were genuinelly super, a special show on crocidilians and, to top it off, a massive maritime gallery.

After all that there was little else I was inclined to do but sit in an air-conditioned cinema. Caro had strongly recommended that I see 'Samson and Delilah' (which since won an award at Cannes), set in a small aboriginal community in Central Australia. The story follows a young man and woman and the tagline is 'True Love'. I found it both beautiful and frustrating. Frustrating because there was almost no dialogue and I couldn't understand the central relationship. The more I later learnt about aboriginal customs, the more sense the film made. It was a fascinating insight into a culture I knew almost nothing about.

One of my Darwin highlights was a trip to the botanic gardens. It has been a dream of mine for the last 16 years, since we did a primary school project on trees, to visit the rainforest. That was coming soon (I'd planned a trip to the Daintree Rainforest in Far North Queensland). In the meantime, the rainforest loop in the Darwin gardens whet my appetite for it. There was also a self-guided tree walk, which took us to trees unlike any I'd seen before. My favourite was the cannon-ball tree, with its pink and yellow blossom and cannon-ball shaped seeds hanging stright off the trunk:

At the time, I wasn't massively happy in Darwin, but thinking back now over what I did there, it actually wasn't such a bad few days after all.

Surf school

When we first went down to the beach at Wombarra, Caro and I saw people surfing. I made some off the cuff remark along the lines of 'that looks like fun'. Before I knew it, Caro, in the spirit of godmotherly generosity, had arranged for me to have four surfing lessons during my stay.

I cannot even begin to express how much fun it was. I adore being in the water, so simply getting to splash around in the ocean was exciting. The power of the waves was exhilarating. I was lucky to have private lessons with a super teacher, Fiona, who got me up in no time. By the end of the first lesson I had stood up on the board, which is far easier said than done. In the second lesson I was making progress, though that still meant more misses than not when it came to getting up on the board. It could hardly have been a lovelier setting though. The beach was almost deserted, Fiona and I were the only ones in the water and, to top it off, the sun was setting. The soft and subtle colours in the sky felt incongruous against the crashing water. It was almost too perfect - more like a movie set than real life. It brought to mind the ending of The Truman Show.

The third lesson was a bit of a set back. Previously, Fiona had been pulling me and my board out to the best waves but now I was deemed ready to do paddle myself. I'm a pretty strong swimmer, but paddling in the ocean is a completely different matter to swimming laps in the pool. By the time I'd get myself into a good spot, I didn't have quite enough strength left in my arms for the necessary explosion of my body into standing position once the wave came.

In the fourth lesson it all came together. It was a beautiful day, the waves were just right and I was getting some pretty good rides. When it was nearing the time to go in, Fiona was adamant that my last wave should be a good one. It took a few more tries but then I caught a corker. I was able to ride it right into the beach, a good 20 metres or so, by far the best I'd done in any of the lessons. It was a magnificent way to end. Having had to work so hard for it, having had so many previous failed attempts, made it all the better. It will surely rate as one of the best moments of my whole gap year.

More from Wombarra and around

A few more words and pictures about my time in Wombarra, to go some way towards explaining why I couldn't wipe a smile off my face all week.

Some faces to go with the names. Here are Caro and David:

Caro had been asked to review a restaurant in Kiama and, although she couldn't take me to the meal, she did take me along for the ride. Also on the trip was Suze, a veteran food critic, with whom I very much enjoyed talking about what makes a good restaurant experience. My favourite of her juding criteria was that the food should have 'integrity'. I had a wonderful time there, first walking up to the blowhole then taking an almost childish delight in the water booming out of it, followed by a lovely walk along the coast. Moreover, by reports on the way back, I did much better with my fish and chips sitting on the grass overlooking the bay below than they did with their supposedly fancier meal.


Caro provides homework assistance to an African refugee girl in Wollongong. She took me along to the weekly afterschool session where I was matched with a bright and lively 13 year old Iranian girl who needed help with her mathematics homework. I was in my element as we worked through a division with decimals.

Another lovely moment was when Caro took me to the local sculpture garden. We were the only people there and spent a wonderful hour wandering through the native temperate rainforest and admiring the art as and when we came across it.

On the morning I was due to leave I woke up stupidly early (4am) and, when I couldn't get back to sleep, got up and worked on the computer. I didn't really notice the time pass until I glanced out of the window and was hit with an orange so bright that I thought something was on fire. In fact, it was the sun was rising. In terms of the brightness and vibrancy of the colours in the sky, it was the best I'd ever seen.

After eight days, it was time to move on. Though I was excited about adventures to be had elsewhere in the country, it was with great sadness, in fact with a tear in my eye, that I said my goodbyes. It was a perfect week.

Sydney

I got rather side-tracked in the last post from talking about my trips into Sydney. Now I'm back on task...

My first trip into the city was with Caro, who took me to the Fish Market for sushi, which went down a treat, as did the lively bustle of the place, though I was still in reverse culture shock. We took a beautiful walk along the Bondi-Bronte trail - I was in heaven soaking up the ocean breeze - before heading for the best ice cream in Sydney.

On my second trip into Sydney, I went, on Caro's recommendation , to an exhibition of the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama at the Museum of Contemporary Arts (MCA). I enjoyed it immensely. Kusama creates large, bright, multi-coloured works, often covered with polka dots, that are lots of fun to be around. The piece that had the biggest impact on me was a recreated living room, the entirety of which was covered in these multi-coloured polka dots, which became seemingly alive under UV lighting. I strongly encourage you to Google her work.

After the MCA I met an old family friend, Nikki Ellis, for a delicious lunch, then spent the afternoon at the Museum of Sydney, browsing through it's well-presenting and informative displays on the history of the city, including a surprisingly absorbing exhibition on the tram. Between that and the MCA, it was rather a museum overload and by the time I'd caught the train back to Wombarra, I was as tired as I'd been on any day trekking around Annapurna.

The next trip into Syndey was with Caro and David for an extremely as-far-from-the-mainstream-as-possible dance performance, a one woman show based on Thomas de Quincey's 'Confessions of an Opium Eater'. The sound and visual effects were excellent but I enjoyed the actual dancing less, I think, than the others. The reason we were there was that Caro had been invited to moderate a post-performance discussion, which brought forth insights and explanations which did a good deal to enhance my understanding of the show. I must admit that for me the best part of the evening was seeing Caro in full professional flow.

The fourth and final trip into Sydney was with Caro and began with dim sum (or yum cha as it's called here), always a great start to the day. We were in town for a show called 'Gatz', a six hour reading/performance of 'The Great Gatsby at the Sydney Opera House'. It was certainly an original piece of theatre. The set was a shabby office and the production started with one of the workers coming in, attempting to get his computer working and failing. Frustrated, he picks up a copy of 'The Great Gatsby' and begins reading aloud. As he does so, other workers come into the office, look at him like he's kind of crazy, and carry about their day. But gradually, they morph into the characters in the book, taking over their dialogue. Ultimately, what is said on stage is exactly the entirety of 'The Great Gatsby', nothing more, nothing less. As the performance progresses, the office setting gradually pares down and the actors become increasingly like Fitzgerald's characters.

The production garnered mixed reviews, most calling it a tour de force whilst others felt it didn't work at all. I take a position in between the two. Over the six hours, there were plenty of moments that were spell-binding, truly innovative, exciting, funny, poingant. But there were also points where the momentum lagged, the actors seemed tired or the interpretation didn't quite make sense to me. Overall, though, it was a fabulous evening and definitely a piece of theatre that will stick with me for a long time to come.

An unexpected and fortuitous encounter

Wombarra, as I have already mentioned, is lovely in itself, but has the additional advantage of being close to Sydney, allowing me to get a (Western) culture fix, something I'd begun to miss during my three months in Nepal.

My first trip into the city had an unexpected benefit, a chance encounter that was to shape the rest of my time in Australia. I missed the train I was supposed to be taking (I was on the platform at the time, but a confusion over the timetable meant that I watched it pull away, just as I'd realised my error). There were three other women who were similarly muddled and we got chatting. I asked them for their recommendations whilst I was in Australia and one of them, Camille, told me about the Thorsborne Trail on Hinchinbrook Island, a four day bush walk on the country's largest island national park, along tropical beaches and through unspoilt rainforest. Needless to say, that sounded fantastically appealing and I resolved to do it. Moreover, Camille put me in touch with her sister-in0law, Soo, who lives in Cairns, who offered to lent me all the required camping gear.

Since only 40 people are allowed on the trail at any one time, you have to book in advance. There was only one four day during my entire stay in Australia when there was availability. I booked two places, in the hope that I would find someone to go with, and planned the rest of my time around it.

You'll be hearing much more about the trail, which thoroughly lived up to expectation, when I finally get caught up on this blog. There are some stunning photos for you to look forward to as well.

Caro and Wombarra

One of the main reasons why I wanted to come to Australia was to visit my godmother, Caro, who lives in Wombarra, a small town on the coast about an hour south of Sydney.

It was such a joy to see Caro and her husband, David. Caro and I have always gotten on well though, being continents apart, we've not spent all that much time together. Having a whole week together was heavenly. I think we covered pretty much every topic for discussion under the sun. She showed me an absolutely excellent time. I realised that I could have conversations with her that I probably couldn't have with anyone else. I'd always thought she was fantastic but now I reckon she's one of the most awesome people I know and I feel hugely lucky and privileged to have her as my godmother.

I absolutely fell in love with Wombarra and the surrounding towns (Coldale, Thirroul, Austinmer) along the Illawarra coast. They are unremittingly charming. Unlike the beach towns north of Sydney, known as dormitory suburbs because they are essentially commuter towns, the towns to the south still have a character of their own. They're just so sunny, not just in terms of the glorious weather (though it was glorious) but also that everyone I met there was of such a sunny disposition. I was blissfully happy the whole week. I'm not sure I ever stopped smiling.

It all got off to a very good start with a trip down to the local beach. Amongst her many talents, Caro is a photographer and has produced a beautiful range of pictures of the trails the snails leave when moving through a thin layer of sand and exposing the mineral-rich rock beneath. She calls these 'snail songlines'. I have long been familiar with these images, so it was a thrill to see the place where they were created and take some snaps of my own:

For Caro's photos, check out www.carolinebaum.com.au

The beach where they were taken:

Caro had sent me an e-mail when I was still in Nepal promising a change of dietary pace. My request was for meat that wasn't chicken or mutton, and she came up trumps on the first night with osso bucco, one of my all time favourite dishes, though she didn't know this. It marked the beginning of a week of total gluttony with Caro and I, who both love food, increasingly egging each other on in pursuit of the tasty. Ice cream, cakes, dim sum, sushi, scrumptious cheeses and figs, fresh local seafood. You name it, we probably ate it.

The journey: Kathmandu to Syndey

After three months based in one place and almost constantly surrounded with other people, it felt extremely strange to be on the road, on my own.

It took nearly 48 hours to get from Kathmandu to Sydney, via Delhi and Singapore.

I had to spend a night in Delhi, which I was not looking forward to, given that I hadn't really enjoyed my preicous trip to the city. Perhaps because my expectations were so low, I actually had a lovely evening. I treated myself to a hotel room (nicer than where I'd stayed with Sapna and at third of the price), had a yummy dinner and, most importantly, slept.

My three hour layover at Singapore was a total reverse culture shock. So clean and shiny, everything so new, there were even automaticly flushing toilets! The wealth on display, the retail extravaganza, was bewildering.

Here's the airport orchid garden:

My first sight of Sydney was coming in to land, shortly before 5am, an almost full moon reflected in the harbour. It was beautiful and I knew that I'd have a good time here.

Final goodbyes

I've already written a post describing how I felt in those last few moments before leaving Kathmandu. Here are some final photos taken in the last few moments before I left.

Kansi-didi, Sita and baby Mihir. The first two kept Spana and Rabi's house in excellent order, the latter did his best to mess it all up again!


The repair shop round the corner where my bike spent much of its early life (before I replaced the inner-tube, after which it gave me no more trouble).

My final meal in Nepal. This is dal bhat, but school canteen style (from MotherCare) and not nearly as appetising as the dal bhat from trekking days:

My final moments were lovely. Kansi-didi, Sita and Rabi had prepared a small leaving ceremony for me, lining the doorway with flowers and presenting me with a silk scarf as a sign of respect. I was extremely moved. And then I was off.