Three hours late arriving in Sydney but there are Wendy and David (friends I met in Vietnam) still waiting for me. A short drive and we meet up with Rick (my brother) and Dan (my nephew) and have a morning cuppa together. It's great to meet up with everyone. I'm suffering a bit of culture shock after SE Asia. The pavements are there for walking on rather than parking motos, sitting on, eating on, welding on or whatever. Everything costs a fortune and life is generally very ordered. I'd flown over the interior which was in dire need of refurnishing but the bits around the edge are really over furnished with lush greens and exotic wildlife. Even in the centre of Sydney there are loads of bats and big spiders. The view of the Harbor Bridge and Opera House are amazing even though we've all seen them in pics and TV. Australians are always keen to show you their bush. They go one better than the USA by only having the one and they call it "The Bush."
Dan and I decide to go on the jet boat. It’s expensive, but what the hell, I'm only having the one holiday
this year. The pilot asks if we want a dry or wet run and we all call for a wet one. Dan and I wear rather fetching yellow ponchos but some of the others go without. Soon up to speed and swishing from side to side then thrown into reverse we nose dive and a huge wave crashes over us. The boat fills up with water to our knees and beyond. One chap undoes his seat belt and prepares to abandon ship - he is immediately ordered back in his seat. The boat can't sink even if full of water and it's soon pumped out. We see nothing of the harbor through the spray but it's a great buzz. As the little boy said to the pilot as we got off - "You're awesome!" Dan and I had to stand on the bus going home looking like we had both wet ourselves.
Dan was great at showing us around and we experienced the delights of Coogee beach, Bondi Beach, the second most dangerous pub in NSW, the ferry to Manly, and walked and rode over the Harbor Bridge. We go to a wonderful concert at the Opera House by
Toumani Diabate who's performed with the likes of Bjork, Ry Cooder and Ali Farka Toure.
In OZ everything is bought with plastic. Yes, even the notes are plastic. It means you can go swimming with your wad and it won't turn to mush, and from the look of some of the Speedos that’s exactly what they do.
Dan, Rick and I are kindly driven down the coast by David one day.
Another day and Rick and I go with Christine (another friend from Vietnam) and Jo (her friend) wine tasting in the Hunter Valley. With Christine’s expert guidance (she's a wine educator), we taste and taste and taste. Christine spits and Jo swallows - but then Christine has to drive. Rick and I end up a little sozzled and fall asleep on the way back. With visits to a chocolate factory and a cheese factory thrown in it's been a great day out.
Finally Rick has to go back to the UK and I leave for rather cheaper accommodation at a hostel in Kings Cross, a sort of OZ version of Soho. I share a dorm. with two very posh but very messy London girls. They tip
their packs out all over the floor. The one in the bunk above me brings back a boy who is still asleep in the blacked out room at 1.30pm and seems annoyed at me disturbing him. It's all a part of hostel life.
My penultimate night in Sydney and I go out with Dan, Camilla and their nurse friends. Two straight bars followed by two gay bars. It's all pretty crazy and I don't get back to the dorm. until 6am. The posh girls an hour later.
On my last night I'm invited to Christine’s for a lovely meal. Christine, Wendy and I drink rather a lot of wine and it all ends in tears and calls of "I'll never see you again!"
A flight to Cairns and a bus to Dougies at Port Douglas, and this time I'm in with three messy London boys. They're a real pain crashing about in the middle of the night and switching the light on and off.
I do a trip to the rainforest seeing trees hundreds of year’s old, crocodiles on the river weighing 250kg, pythons and a frog.
Next it's a trip to the barrier reef.
Everyone else is diving and I've never even snorkeled. I put on the mask and breath through the snorkel and I feel a little of the panic I encountered in the mountains in Peru when I felt I couldn't breath. I wasn't sure I could do this. Then I stuck my head underwater and totally forgot about panic - it was like sticking your head into an enormous tropical fish tank. There were fish almost as big as myself down to fish the size of my fingernail. All of the most amazing colours - and so many of them. Then there were all the formations of coral, again of such incredible variety of colours. The sea isn't really my environment. I'm like a fish out of water. I tried using the flippers but just didn't seem to make any headway whatever I did. I think sometimes I even went backwards. Embarrassing though it was I had to be led by the hand by one of the crew.
A flight to Wellington, NZ followed by the boat over to the South Island. The light is something special, and only comparable to the light you get on the West coast of
Ireland. A stay at Ali and Pete's place in Richmond while I sort out my bike. One evening there's a strange insect in the toilet.
"There's a strange insect in the toilet," I say.
"Yes, I saw it earlier."
"Is it dangerous?"
"It can kill you, but only if you have sex with it. It's a Praying Mantiss."
Phew! Another close shave.
I go into a bike shop to buy a secondhand bike and a while later come out with a Mongoose! It seems ok - 30 gears and front shocks. I'd prefer a proper touring bike with narrower wheels and drops to give more riding positions but it does me fine. It's my first time with SPD pedals that lock onto my cycling shoes. I previously used toe straps and cleats. It takes a little getting used to, but I topple over just the once, an embarrassing encounter with a hidden gravel-trap in a car park.
I mount the Mongoose, and off to Able Tasman for a few days, and though it's only 50km a day I really feel it. I realise that I haven't cycled seriously for about 15 years. Still,
it's one of those things you don't forget, just like errrr - riding a bike. It's a pain in the arse - literally! Still, I refrain from using the old Tour de France trick of lining the shorts with raw steak. Since Foot & Mouth and Mad Cows Disease it just hasn't had the same appeal. A beautiful walk along the coast but sand flies make me feel like I'm at the bottom of the food chain. I don't feel so guilty for having eaten bugs in Thailand. On to route 6 - get my kicks on Route 6. The first day there's a huge hill and it starts to rain. On the descent a passing car throws a drink carton at me and when I finally arrive at the hotel it is closed - argh! Another 15km and I find a place with cabins - it's like heaven after the road. Days follow with cabins, camping and hostels. It's still hard on the bike and I don't have the drive day after day as I did years ago. Also paying for 6 months of lying on beaches doing fuck all. I long for the easy life. I begin to
realise why NZ is so green - it's the rain, the rain, the rain. It is exceptionally beautiful though even in wild weather. Just like cycling through a scene in Lord of the Rings. On to Westport and the West Coast. Westport is a dump, I give Foulwind a wide berth and go to Greymouth. On along the wild coast road and of course always against the wind. It's hard but beautiful.
So that's it for now. The cold wet weather and the tough cycling have really hit me and I'm having serious thoughts about whether to attempt cycling through the USA. Maybe I'll just do the Amtrak bit. Maybe go to Mexico for a while. Maybe come back home a bit earlier than planned. We'll see.
New Zealand's Flag
Map of New Zealand