Posts Tagged ‘Park’

Doubtful Sound in superlative

Monday, 4 May 2009

After our exciting adventures in Queenstown, we felt like doing something a little more tranquil for the next few days, and so we made our way to Doubtful Sound in Fiordland. It’s virtually impossible to travel there independently, so we joined a tour group. We were a little startled when we realised we would be joining a group of around 50 sexagenarians as the tour began, but why shouldn’t we all get along?

More interesting however, was the style of commentary used by the tour guides for the remainder of the trip: it was very much in the realm of the superlative.

Our entire trip would be within Fiordland, New Zealand’s largest national park; it’s also one of the least explored areas of the country. We started our journey by taking a ferry across Lake Manapouri, which is the fifth-largest and second-deepest lake in New Zealand. The skipper was keen to point out Pomona Island (the lake’s largest island) on the way for some particular reason, but we had reached our superlative quota for the minute, so it passed us by. Instead we enjoyed the view from deck.

P3172817-1900

On the other side of the lake was the Manapouri Hydro-Electric Power Station, New Zealand’s most controversial infrastructure project of the twentieth century. Original plans had intended for the water levels in Lake Manapouri to be raised by 30 metres, but massive nationwide protests prevented this from happening.

The power station is at the beginning of New Zealand’s most expensive road, which leads to Doubtful Sound. (It is not part of the road network and was built only as a supply route for the construction of the power station in the 1960s). We boarded a coach to be taken over a mountain pass and down to our boat in Doubtful Sound via the “million-dollar view”.

P1010394

P1010396

Once we arrived at Doubtful Sound (New Zealand’s second-largest fjord; the largest, Dusky Sound, is accessible only from the ocean by boat), we were able to check out our new home, the Fiordland Explorer. After a week living in a campervan, the promises of a soft bed and having meals cooked for us were very reassuring. The boat was quite a heavy beast, but had masts and some sails which we thought were probably just added for decorative reasons.

P3172841-1900

As soon as we set off, we were assured about what an amazing trip we were going to have. Most tourists visit Milford Sound to the north, but Doubtful is “three-times longer” than Milford, and has “ten-times the surface area”. “Oh good,” muttered the crowd. Furthermore, we were told we were the luckiest tour group for some time, as we had such amazing weather; it normally rains 300 days per year.

As we proceeded to the deepest point (430 metres) of the fjord, we looked up at the exceptionally steep sides of the fjord and we wondered how it was that the trees and bushes were able to grow on near vertical slopes…

The tannoy kicked into action and a reassuring voice, reading from script, informed us that:

“Mosses, lichens and liverworts grow on the damp exposed rock, which lay the foundation for hardier colonising shrubs, which in turn allow trees to grow.”

It was a phrase we were going to hear many times over the remainder of the trip.

The boat had a number of kayacks available, and I made use of one primarily to escape the running commentary.

P1010412

P3172853-1900

After an (intentional) swim in the 11C water (which was fairly bracing but great fun), we cruised towards the mouth of the fjord. It is named “Doubtful” as Captain Cook was doubtful of whether he would be able to sail out if he entered.

We passed Secretary Island, which is New Zealand’s fifth-largest island. At this point, Hadyn and I were beginning to wonder if it was really necessary to mention a fifth-place ranking, particularly one specific to quite a small country.

As we endured more statistics being reeled off, we were delighted to be joined by the southernmost population of bottlenose dolphins. For what must have been the better part of an hour, around ten dolphins were jumping in front of the ship or in its wake. I really got the sense that they were enjoying themselves and that we were one of the highlights of their day.

P3172883-1900

The next morning produced far more typical Doubtful Sound weather: rain, and lots of it. Not one to be affected by the conditions, I donned my rain jacket and grabbed a mug of tea before proceeding to the deck to be informed again about the mosses, lichen and liverworts. Nonetheless, the fjord took on an aura of mysticism with the low clouds rolling by and the sound of rain pattering away.

P1010670

P1010673

It was time to retreat from this fairytale kingdom and head back to the campervan. We saw some marvellous scenery, and although listening to the consistent onboard commentary was fairly laborious, we ate very well and were looked after by staff who must have to do the same thing over and over for each group on the boat.

On the coach journey back to the jetty, our driver decided to run a quiz to see which nationality could remember the most statistics (Hadyn and I did the UK very proud). Finally, as the driver pulled up to the jetty, he remarked with a grin on his face:

“Of all the groups we have had on this trip, I’ve great pleasure in saying that this group in particular has been the most

recent!”

Advertisements

New Zealand – far south, far down, far out

Tuesday, 28 April 2009

So my big dilemma in New Zealand was whether to join one of the well-established backpacker touring companies (Kiwi Xperience, Magic Bus or Stray), or really be independent and hire my own vehicle. Each had their own advantages: a tour bus would probably be cheaper and come with a ready-made set of friends (each company advertised a different type of “crowd”); hiring a vehicle would allow me to “get off the beaten track”, and have a flexible schedule.

Finding someone to share a vehicle with seemed sensible, not just for cost efficiency, but to stave off any madness that might come with driving around alone for three weeks. I checked a few adverts that were in my youth hostel in Christchurch, but nothing seemed quite right. So instead I decided to prostitute myself with the poster you saw in my last blog post.

Not sure whether I would get any responses or not, I went out to explore the city.

Christchurch is very quaint. Wandering around the city centre, you really do wonder whether someone is having a bit of a laugh by creating this little piece of Britannia on the other side of the world. In fact it’s more English than England; everybody’s manners seem to be impeccable, wearing wool seems to be a national pastime, and the main park in the city has its trimmed hedges and colourful flower beds. It was also much colder than autumn would have been in London!

P1010258

They must have even imported a few punts from Cambridge or Oxford; something I was very pleased to see, given that I was a punter at school. (But I was disappointed to see the punting is done Cambridge-style here.)

P1010259

Back at the hostel, I was delighted to see I had received a few messages responding to my advert. I arranged to meet the first guy that got back to me, and it was obvious Hadyn and I were going to get on famously, so we planned to get a campervan together.

The next morning we picked up our new home-away-from-home, made a trip to the supermarket for important supplies (we would be cooking for ourselves in the back of the van) and ventured out into the countryside!

Ideally when sharing a campervan with someone, one should be able to split the driving. The slight hiccup we encountered was that Hadyn didn’t have his driving licence with him and so all of the driving would be down to me until his licence had been couriered over from the UK. Thanks to Fraser Island, I had somewhat increased my experience since passing my test last year, but only a little. This probably explained why we went for the highest level of insurance we could on the campervan (i.e. no excess).

With my driving responsibilities fixed for the next week or so, Hadyn became known as The Navigator (much to his chagrin).

We drove that afternoon as far as could from Christchurch, southwards towards Mount Cook. As it was getting dark, we set up camp at a camping ground and tucked into our first of many van-made meals.

The sleep wasn’t too uncomfortable, and I woke to find The Navigator preparing breakfast. Perfect!

P1010266

The summit of Mount Cook is beyond the reach of the non-mountaineer, but we made use of the freedom our campervan gave us to drive to Mount Cook village (at the end of a 50km dead-end road) and go for a walk in the nearby valleys. Once again we were stuck by how friendly everybody was; nodding and saying “Hello” to everybody we passed on the track was virtually compulsory.

When we reached a glacial lake, I wasn’t quite convinced that the large lumps of ice were real (since it seemed pretty warm), so I went in for a paddle to check. To water was exceptionally cold (just above 0C would sound about right), but of course I put on a brave face.

P1010288

P1010284

That night we had our first of many nights of dubious legality by the side of the road. It didn’t seem necessary to go to a campsite every night as you don’t really need a warm shower and electricity everywhere you go. As we settled in for a beautiful sunset by the side of a deserted lake, I did lock the doors from the inside, lest we be visited in the middle of the night by an angry local farmer brandishing a shotgun!

P1010293

The next morning we drove past four cars (of which two were police cars); where was everybody?? And to really rub it in, we were held up by a farmer and his flock for a few minutes.

P1010304

Later, we arrived in Oamaru, a charming town on the south-eastern coast of South Island (our first signs of civilisation for a couple of days). We asked the friendly staff at the place we ate lunch, what we could do in the town.

"Ummm, well you could go to the cinema."

Even though this part of the country is stunning, we were beginning to realise that there’s not much to do around here. We eventually managed to tease out a recommendation to see the Moeraki Boulders, strange rocks that are almost perfectly spherical.

P1010308

That evening, we returned to civilisation (i.e. a campsite), if only to make use of the hot showers. Hadyn had been avoiding the alcohol since we met, but tonight would be his first night off the wagon, so we ventured into Dunedin city centre in a bus from the campsite to get merry. Dunedin is the student capital of South Island, so has a great bar scene. (We heard that Freshers’ week a few weeks previously had got dramatically out of hand for the nth year in a row). It is also the start of a strip of New Zealand which has a predominantly Scottish, rather than English heritage. Does my travelling companion look drunk in this photo of the end of the night?

P1010314

Dunedin also has the strange claim to fame of having the steepest street in the world. We decided against driving the van up Baldwin Street in the morning and instead planned a run to the top instead. Halfway up, we decided against this also.

P1010329

The next "Scottish-themed" town on our route was Invercargill, the most southerly city in the world. On the way, we stopped off to admire some of the marine wildlife of Nugget Point. There are actually hundreds of seals in the photo below.

P1010334

Unfortunately the weather was rather depressing when arrived in Invercargill, and we beat a hasty retreat to some of the nearby attractions instead. The Rough Guide to New Zealand really came up trumps at this point, as we directed ourselves to a random waterfall in the middle of nowhere…

P1010347

… and a random cave in the middle of nowhere …

Of course, caves have their dangers, but here I demonstrate how to deal with a fall from grace in style.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

If you can’t see this video or you’re reading this blog on Facebook, you will need to go to http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=559757546455 to see the video.

Exhilarated by our random trips into the middle of nowhere, we later arrived in Queenstown, possibly the exhilaration capital of the world. I was determined to do a bungee jump, and this was the place to do it. Oddly enough I didn’t really feel particularly worried about doing one; I’ve never had an issue with heights and a bungee seemed like it would be a good chuckle.

A.J. Hackett were the people who brought bungee jumping into the mainstream. They have three different jumps in an around Queenstown but rather than spend my time working up to the biggest jump, I thought I would just sign up for the biggest straight away and see what all of the fuss is about.

The Nevis Bungee is done from a suspended platform that is 134m (440ft) above the Nevis River about 30km outside of the town. Coach transport was arranged, and as we travelled to the bungee site, no one was talking and the driver was playing death metal rock music at full volume. Our party was only then starting to realise when we were getting ourselves in for; you could smell the adrenaline in the air.

Our group was winched over to the bungee platform suspended over the middle of the canyon, accompanied by the occasional sound of screaming and a body-shaped object falling over the side of our destination. Once we had arrived, our harnesses were checked and each had to wait their turn. This gave us an opportunity to inspect the rope (really just lots of rubber bands bundled together) and admire the jumping technique of those before us (dive, don’t drop).

The whole time I am holding my (self-delusional??) smile; I’m still really quite excited.

P1010368

My name is called out. Must be my turn. I have to sit down in what looks like a gynaecologist’s examination chair for the final straps to be attached and checks to be made. Yes, still smiling…

P1010373

Once we’re happy to go, I’m instructed to shuffle (my feet are tied together after all) onto the “meat slab”, essentially the modern day equivalent of walking the plank. “Don’t look down” is the advice we’re given. And I don’t; and I’m still smiling.

1 – 2 – 3 …

Vodpod videos no longer available.

If you can’t see this video or you’re reading this blog on Facebook, you will need to go to http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=559720425845 to see the video.

It was at that very moment, as I dived off (or toppled off?) the meat slab, that I realised how much I had been kidding myself the past few hours. How actually it’s completely ridiculous to jump into the void, with the ground so far away.

But hang on, the ground is getting closer. Is this going to work?? The wind is sweeping past my body and there are no signs of slowing down. Besides the wind, it’s also quiet. Having been pumped up with loud music for the past few hours, it now seems eerily quiet and I feel strangely alone. Am I going to die alone??

Needless to say, I did slow down (amazing this modern technology) and I bounced up and down a few times before unhooking my feet and returning gracefully back up to the platform. For an 8½ second experience it did seem to last an awfully long time, and once I got back to the campervan, I tried to sleep it off, but the experience echoed in my head over and over again. For several days afterwards, the experience would spontaneously recur like a scratched CD, and even now my stomach plummets whenever I watch the video, (I can’t imagine what my parents think). Would I do it again? Possibly not. But that’s the point of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

scan0002

Sydney – familiar yet different

Saturday, 7 March 2009

Hyde Park, Oxford Street, Paddington, King’s Cross, Haymarket, Liverpool Street…

Sydney seems to have a lot in common with London. I was greeted with continuous drizzle for my first few days in the city. On my first night, I met loads of Brits and Irish down the pub. Everything seemed very familiar, yet also different. Perhaps I had arrived in an, as yet unvisited, English town.

My main reason for visiting Sydney was to catch up with Sarah, formerly a best friend from university, but who has virtually disappeared and no one has really seen in the UK for years [I’m hoping this comment will aggravate her]. She lives in Bondi, which is famed for its beach full of glorious fit and tanned bodies. Alas, due to the rain, it was a few days until I was able to truly appreciate this spectacle.

A rather deserted Bondi Beach on an overcast day
A rather deserted Bondi Beach on an overcast day

The poor weather did give Sarah and me a good opportunity to catch up and share stories from the past couple of years. She will be back in the UK soon, so all of those missing her won’t have to wait too long to have her cackling on the end of a phone again.

When the weather finally improved we took a trip on the famous Manly Ferry. The ferry runs to the northern suburb of Manly and passes by the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, giving its passengers fantastic views from the water. Here Sarah poses with the Opera House in the background.

Sarah poses with the Opera House in the background
Sarah poses with the Opera House in the background

The whole area around the harbourfront is to Sydney what the Houses of Parliament are to London and the Eiffel Tower to Paris. Some days later, Sarah and I checked out the Opera House (surprisingly covered in ceramic bathroom tiles) and the view from the bar underneath the Opera House esplanade. We were very lucky to get a table right by the harbourside where we proceeded to drink champagne (one can call any sparkling wine that here) and gin and tonic. Great fun! Perhaps most astonishing was seeing a colony of thousands of bats fly over the harbour as the sun went down.

Sarah and Alex in front of the Sydney Harbour Bridge
Sarah and Alex in front of the Sydney Harbour Bridge

Obviously a natural poser
Obviously a natural poser

One of the reasons I am travelling is to explore some of the other global cities around the globe. (This is why I am also visiting Singapore, Shanghai and Beijing.) Compared to London, the Sydney CBD (central business district) has a modern feel with its many high-rise buildings, yet is familiar enough not to be too disconcerting. p1000667_small(The main street in Chinatown shares my surname afterall!) It is however more expensive than I imagined (I suppose food is subsidised heavily in Europe) and I gather from people that work here that the working hours are not much better than the UK, and the vacation allowances are less generous. All-in-all however, I had a marvellous time and this could well be a place I choose to work in the future.

Next stop, tropical Queensland!

More Sydney photos on this Facebook page

Singapore Sling

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Singapore doesn’t fail to impress. Compared to some of the rundown terminals at Heathrow, Changi Airport is very well turned out without being too garish (like some Middle Eastern and Asian airports). But my lasting impression won’t be made by the architecture and interior design, but instead by immigration.

Those used to travelling to the United States will know how bad the immigration experience can be; fingerprints, photographs, plain rudeness. Not in Singapore; here you are greeted with beaming smiles and a professional manner. To top it off, after everything had been checked, stamped and found to be in order, I was offered a mint…!

“Welcome to Singapore”

Too tired to tackle the city on my first night, my first adventure was to find breakfast the next day. Guided by a Wikitravel page insisting that I eat a traditional Singaporean breakfast, I walked a few blocks from my hotel to Orchard Street, the main shopping street in the city, to find a place to eat. Breakfast typically revolves around “kaya”, a sort of coconutty butter spread on toast, accompanied by soft-boiled eggs with soy sauce and strong coffee with condensed milk. I had no idea what to do with the two eggs and bowl of soy sauce handed to me, but the cashier came over to my table to help explain everything. (“Break the eggs into the bowl of soy sauce and give it a good stir”)

p1000287_450_600
Typical Singaporean breakfast

Food in Singapore is brilliant. Chinese, Malaysian, Indian and European food is readily available, and often brought together to create a Singapore fusion cuisine. I met a coursemate from Imperial College for lunch. Neil took me to a food court where around twenty different stalls were selling different foods, which all smelt fantastic. We ate on a roof terrace overlooking the city.

p1000289_450
Old ISE coursemates: Alex and Neil overlooking Singapore

The majority of the city seems to be covered in distinctive high-rise office buildings, luxury appartments and shopping malls. However, each of the different communities in Singapore has a cultural heartland: Chinatown for the Chinese, Little India for the Indians, Arab Street for the Malays (and I suppose the old Colonial district represents the European heritage). They each show a quirky side to the city that once was before the massive development that has taken place over the past 40 years.

p1000298_450
Arab St – the Malay quarter

Little India, Singapore
Little India, Singapore

Chinatown, Singapore
Chinatown, Singapore

Singapore Cricket Club with skyscrapers in the background
Singapore Cricket Club with skyscrapers in the background

On my last day I visited the resort island of Sentosa. Connected to the Singapore mainland by cable car (and monorail), much of the island has been extensively developed into a pretty excrutiating family theme park with observation towers, beaches and cinemas connected by covered escalators piping out elevator music. Prices were also very high compared to the mainland, and my cash vanished far more quickly than I had expected. Nonetheless, there was a very good aquarium which made the journey worthwhile. My cable-car trip back to the mainland that evening also afforded some fantastic views.

For my last few hours in the city I walked along the riverfront and really experimented with all of the different settings on my camera to create some fantastic nighttime city images.

Singapore Harbourfront skyline
Singapore Harbourfront skyline

Last stop Raffles Hotel (apparently the place to be seen, but not to stay) then I was on my way to Sydney with another mint from immigration!

Hot Alex in front of the Raffles Hotel, Singapore
Hot Alex in front of the Raffles Hotel, Singapore