Australia: Christmas, caves and Claire's arrival

After leaving Tasmania behind, I'd taken up residence with my Uncle Les in Mittagong, south of Sydney, so that I could spend Christmas with family. So far we'd retrieved my grandad from the airport and visited the Blue Mountains. Somehow, I am dealing with living with two grumbly, but lovely old men.

Leftovers for tea again

A lovely, relaxed Christmas Eve morning was balanced by an afternoon drive around the area with Linda and her younger son while Uncle Les did... whatever it is that needed doing for the Christmas meal. First stop, Avon Dam, with pretty views.

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And then on to Nepean Dam, which also had lovely views and also the somewhat disconcerting sound of thunder closing in...

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Finally a quick stop at a small animal sanctuary, where the wallabies were sensibly trying to shelter from the incoming storm.

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And so came the storm. Pretty sure it's The Storm, the one that follows me around. It certainly seemed angry enough.

And then sleep. Always, sleep. Oh, and reading of that Pratchett book I picked up, which is rather good.

Merry Christmas!

There isn't a whole lot to say about Christmas. It's a big family affair with my uncle, not like the quiet thing I have at home. Still, there was enough food to last out a zombie apocalypse and Secret Santa brought me cider. All round, a pretty awesome day.

I don't think I've eaten that much since I left the UK... So stuffed.

It's not that far

On Boxing Day, Uncle Les took us to Morton National Park, where I had to deal with the ticket machine because after 5 minutes of watching my uncle and grandad struggling with it, I thought I'd best do something. Not entirely sure what they were doing wrong, but it worked first time for me...

First stop, the Echo Point lookout, over this beautiful valley.

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And then to the Wishing Well, which is clearly a man made hole in the rock and not really what I was expecting.

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Finally, a short walk down to the old Erith Coal Mine. And I mean short. The sign said something like 1.2k return. OK, so it's down a big old hill, but it's not very far.

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The mine is all shut up, but some of the props still seem to be in there.

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Apparently there used to be a railway running to the cliff edge above the mine and they'd hoist the coal up there instead of having to cart it out by the hill. The hill which we then had to climb again. The way my uncle described it afterwards, you'd think we'd walked miles...

And then Christmas leftovers for tea. This is going to become a running theme.

Do you think it likes eggs?

The following day, Linda rescued me from another day of grumbling by taking all three of us on a trip to Wombeyan Caves.

Access is via a dirt road, which initially I thought was total awesomesauce. An hour or more in, I started getting travel sick, courtesy of all the twists. Urgh. Nice. Fortunately we weren't too far from the caves and once I got out of the car I was fine. Besides, one of the first things I spotted was this goanna.

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I'm a huge Disney fan. Rescuers Down Under is one of my favourites and so of course I started stalking this goanna, calling it Joanna and asking if it wanted eggs. I don't think anyone heard me...

First stop, Victoria Arch. Pretty.

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And then on to our guided tour of Wollondilly Cave with the excellently named, somewhat insane, John Mango. Here, have a slightly out of focus photo of the prettiness inside the cave.

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And maybe another?

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It was nice and even better because it was cooler than outside and had no winged demons to bite me. Ultimately, though, I've seen more interesting caves.

And so back onto different dirt road back to civilisation. Via McDonalds where I filched the free WiFi and tried to find out when Claire was arriving on Thursday and how to get into our AirBnB. I hate being so reliant on WiFi.

And so to sleep.

Um... I have control?

On my last day in Mittagong, my uncle's brother-in-law offered to take me and my grandad on a little sightseeing flight over the area. He co-owns a small plane and teaches folks to fly, so I thought this was a great idea.

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I was not expecting to get to fly the damn thing. But a minute or two into the flight, having explained how the basic controls worked, Ken told me I could have a go. So I hesitantly confirmed that I had control and that was it.

I flew a fucking plane.

I thought it'd be for a few minutes, but I had control for the entire flight up until landing. It was both terrifying and pretty damn awesome.

This would also explain why I have precisely zero photos from the plane, but plenty of us on the ground. Look at me, looking stupid in the pilot's seat...

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She's a cool little Piper. Wouldn't mind having another go. Cheers, Ken.

Apparently nothing else on this day even came close to making an impression on me, because all my journal says after "I flew a fucking plane! :)" is "not sure what else happened here?"

I hear a Northern hemisphere accent - would you like some ice?

After my flailing with Macca's WiFi a couple of days prior, Claire had managed to text me late on the Thursday night (my time) to tell me the flight was delayed. Unfortunately, by the time I got that text, Grandad and Uncle Les had already gone to bed with the intention of getting up early to accompany me to the airport. This despite my assurance that I was more than capable of getting on the train on my own. Bless.

So we left early, drove to the station and hopped on the train. I believe my uncle was going to take my grandad into Sydney for the day, but I never got confirmation on that. I honestly thought the pair of them were going to cry when I got off the train at the airport after hugs and goodbyes and being pressed with more coffee money than I could ever need. It had been a really lovely week being surrounded by almost-familiar people instead of the constant stream of strangers you get travelling.

Still, I was going to retrieve Claire and that meant another two weeks of familiarity. Despite the delay to her flight on leaving, she arrived near enough on time and after acquiring an Opal card for her and topping up mine, we hopped on the train into the city.

I hadn't thought it through. Normally, I'm pretty good with public transport. I'd figured we'd get the train out to Lewisham, the nearest stop to our AirBnB rental and then get a bus from there.

There was no bus. Claire was melting in the 35 degree heat, which coupled with her jetlag was not great. In the end, I had to use a payphone to call a taxi, which took us the 10 minutes down the road to the AirBnB.

At this point, all should have been well. The info I had from our AirBnB host implied that someone would be home to let us into the annex. No one answered the door. For ages. So we went round the corner to a cafe so I could grab some breakfast and Claire could rehydrate. Going from freezing in the UK to melting in Australia can't have been much fun.

In the meantime, I sent a message to our host to say that we were having trouble getting in and promptly received a call back to say that her brother should be around to let us in. So we tramped back and tried again. Still no response. I even tried sticking my hand through the gate to see if I could open the lock. Apparently even my hands were not skinny enough for that.

Meanwhile, Claire's melting into a puddle in the front yard. We'd already tried the neighbours to see if they had a number for the brother, but had no luck. After a while, the neighbours appeared again, said hi and came out with a line that made my day.

"I hear a Northern hemisphere accent. Would you like some ice? And some water?"

Thank you, unnamed neighbours. Having saved Claire from completely disintegrating, I sent our host another message regarding our inability to get in and was delighted when she got straight back to me with instructions to get into the key box. More than an hour after we arrived, we finally got in.

With the day rapidly wearing away, we refreshed and caught up and then headed off to find some food. Ended up at a little Italian place at the end of the street where I had the most delicious gnocchi with gorgonzola. So good.

And then Claire passed out on the bed when we got back. Poor thing.

Of course we need funny shaped ice cubes...

With Claire feeling a bit better the following morning, we caught the bus into the city and went for a wander.

First stop, Darling Harbour, which was busy and also home to a visitor centre selling koala, kanagaroo and Australia shaped ice cube trays. With the temperature still in the 30s, we decided we might have to come back and buy them. We resisted for a while though, mooching off around the harbour with the aim of getting to the Rocks, one of the oldest parts of Sydney. Passed the Harbour Bridge on the way.

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We had a wander around the Rocks before popping into the Opera House to book a tour. Hey, we can't afford to see a show there (and I don't think we were interested in anything that was playing), so the next best thing is a tour, right?

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Then on to the Rocks Discovery Museum, which was kind of interesting and also free, which is always a bonus.

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Onwards, up to the Observatory where I geeked out about science things and we also got to go into one of the telescope domes.

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At this point, I was amazed that Claire hadn't completely collapsed from the heat and residual jetlag. I think it started kicking in on the way back to the bus stop though, when we had to stop for gelato.

And then well and truly collapsed when we got back to the AirBnb. Oh dear.

Plenty of sleep needed, because next we have New Year's Eve in Sydney to negotiate as well as Claire's birthday. A few more days in Sydney and then we're flying to Alice Springs in preparation for our trip to Uluru.

You think Sydney's hot? Ain't seen nothing yet...

Australia: Farewell to Tasmania, Hello to relatives

Wow. I'm down to my final few days in Tasmania, the island I almost consider my second home. I've covered Hobart, Launceston, both ends of the Overland Track, but not the track itself, gone from east to west coast and back and now, with my flight to Sydney looming, I'm chilling out on the Freycinet Peninsula. So what happened in my last few days in Tassie?

Sea snot?

I seemed to have expended rather a lot of energy walking the Hazards Circuit the previous day, so I decided to have a relaxed day on the Saturday. Note: I actually planned to do not a lot, instead of just lounging around and then realising I'd wasted the day.

I didn't entirely waste this day. First I took a stroll along Muirs Beach, which is right opposite the hostel. Along the way I discovered these funny looking little blobs.

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Loads of them. I'm not sure what they are - jellyfish medusae minus the tentacles? Some sort of giant salp? Not a clue. So I'm calling them sea snot for now, because that's what they look like. Also, the view from the beach across to the Hazards is pretty sweet.

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After that lovely stroll, I treated myself to a muffin and milkshake at the bakery while I tried to make use of the appalling WiFi. No luck. I really shouldn't be this dependent on internet. It's sort of pathetic.

And then I was productive and did laundry. Well done, me. I must have been proud of myself - I made a note in my journal that actually says "laundry time". Why did I feel the need to record that?

I think I must have spent the rest of the day marvelling that my sunburn was improving and also reading an excellent book I found about the Spice Race between England and the Netherlands. Fascinating bit of history, if rather bloody.

Did you walk all the way here?

Relaxed Saturday done with, I decided to make the most of my Parks Pass and head into the park one more time. With walking tracks somewhat limited without tackling the multiday hike around the southern end of the peninsula, I opted to wander along the road to Sleepy Bay instead.

I might have got a few funny looks from drivers as they passed me, but I quite enjoyed the walk. The short track down to the bay was less pleasant, thanks to it being buzzing with mosquitos who managed to find every bit of exposed skin on me. Urgh.

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Still, Sleepy Bay is as lovely as I remember it. I think it was a bit damp when I visited before, so it was nice to see it in the sunshine. Lots of rocks to scramble around. I'm pretty sure that when I came before, the entire tour group squeezed into a tiny cave with a really narrow opening. So I went in search of it. Either I've got the wrong location, was looking in the wrong place, or the cave's collapsed, because I couldn't find it.

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While I was looking, I bumped into a group of Americans who said they'd passed me on the way up the road and were very surprised to hear that I'd walked in from Coles Bay. They seemed to think it was a long way, but I don't think it can be any more than 3 miles from the town to Sleepy Bay. Not very far, really. Friendly folks, though.

I ate my brunch there, sitting on the rocks, admiring the view and trying to ignore the somewhat disconcerting buzz of a drone whizzing past my head.

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And then back to the hostel, via the shop where I treated myself to some nice looking burgers and cider. Burgers for lunch, more reading of the delightful history book and then, in the absence of any interesting food (rice and pasta are getting boring), I went down to the chippy and got myself a seafood box - prawns, calamari, fish goujons and scallops, plus a huge helping of chips. I took it down to the beach and ate it sitting on the boat ramp.

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Apparently, I like calamari. This is wonderful news.

After stuffing my face, I went back to the hostel, did the social thing and drank my cider and then headed back to the beach to watch the sunset with a couple of the guys. I think I managed to get some pretty good photos.

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Oh, and I managed to get the blurry water effect with the waves. Admittedly, I got a bit damp at the same time because the water came up over the rock I was standing on, but I'm pretty pleased with this shot.

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I think that's a good end to my time in Freycinet.

Hobart, where are your baby stores?

Time to leave Coles Bay and this time I wasn't worried about my connection not being there. Well, I wasn't until the bus was late. When it finally arrived, I was beginning to worry that the bus to Hobart would be leaving without me.

Fortunately for me, these guys run this service regularly, so the driver had been in touch with the driver of the other bus to let them know we might be late. As it was, we made it to the turn off before the other bus even arrived. And then they left, leaving me alone in the middle of nowhere and wondering whether we'd made it before the bus or whether it had been and gone. Seriously - middle of nowhere.

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Turns out the other bus was also running slightly behind, so just as I'm thinking I'll have to call someone, the minibus comes rattling along the road and I'm off back to Hobart again.

My mum had also informed me, while I was at Freycinet, that her Australian cousin has had a baby and that it would be nice if I could find a gift of some sort. I'm awful with children. I don't like them and I don't know what to do with them. So when I arrived in Hobart I had to go on a mission in search of... god knows. And I was clearly looking in the wrong place because nowhere seemed to sell things for babies. I succeeded in the end, but jeez, that was difficult.

And then sleep, because I had to get up at 5am to get the shuttle to the airport. This plan was interrupted by an obnoxious roommate who clattered in at 2am with absolutely no regard for her sleeping compatriots. Not impressed.

Bus-Plane-Train-Car

Ah, 5am. Not a time I like. And then the shuttle decided to take its time getting to the airport. I think it's well established that I worry about time and I'm even worse when I'm tired. That was not a fun bus ride. Still, I turned up in plenty of time. The flight was uneventful, if a little sad for leaving Tassie behind.

On arrival at Sydney Airport, I spent the very brief walk from the plane to the gate wondering if I'd recognise my uncle. As it turned out, I'm not entirely convinced he recognised me when I trundled over and hugged him.

And so onto the train with my uncle and his daughter Linda (I have no idea what relation this makes her to me... second cousins or something, probably). A brief stop for a delicious lunch and then into Linda's car for the drive to the little town of Mittagong in the Southern Highlands.

With an afternoon to kill, Uncle Les took me on a drive around a couple of local spots, including this lookout over the valley.

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And the quaint town of Berrima, followed by tea with the family, which is a novelty for me because my uncle's immediate family is pretty extensive and mine... is not.

And then sleep, because in the morning I have to get up early again to collect my grandad from the airport.

Why did I agree to this?

That is the first comment in my journal. Because we set off not long after 4am - me, my uncle and his son-in-law - to get my grandad. I'm not entirely sure why we needed to leave so early - apparently it was because of traffic. Of course, this meant we turned up at the airport about an hour before my grandad's flight even landed. And I felt ill. Lack of sleep, I reckon. So I made the most of the free WiFi and drank tea while we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. The flight arrived and I watched people with LHR baggage tags filter out of customs control.

Still no Grandad.

Eventually, I spotted him heading down the ramp. So I hurried over to catch him. By which point he'd vanished. Damn, the man moves quick for his age. No worries - caught him.

And then a very sleepy drive back, where I tried to catch up with my grandad. I say tried, because neither of us are that talkative anyway and with him being jetlagged and me being generally knackered, we didn't get very far.

After a cooked breakfast at my uncle's, we set off for an afternoon drive. I thought this was a wonderful idea - one of the best ways to deal with jetlag in my experience is to force your body clock to adjust to the local time. No snoozing!

So we headed out to the coast, stopping off at Jamberoo Lookout on the way.

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And then having a wander around the town of Kiama, where Grandad tried out some of the public fitness equipment...

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We also had fish and chips, but while the chips were OK, I wasn't convinced on the fish. And yes, of course I'm biased towards the stuff I get at home. Oh, and Kiama has a blowhole, but it wasn't being particularly impressive when we were there.

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And then tea. And then sleep. So much sleep. Desperate need for sleep.

Secondhand book win

With Grandad still somewhat jetlagged and me still regretting the 4am start, we had a lazy morning the next day and followed it up with a trip to a little market in town where I homed in on the secondhand book stall and acquired myself Pratchett's Wintersmith at a reasonable price instead of the $20+ it would have cost in a normal bookshop in Australia. Seriously, Australia, why are books so expensive over here? It's like you don't want people to read...

And then we had Chinese for tea. I haven't had Chinese takeaway in ages. It was yummy.

Here's me at the Grand Canyon...

That relaxed day had given us all chance to recover, so on the Friday we drove out to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains and visited Scenic World. It's a complete tourist trap, but since neither my uncle nor my grandad were interested in letting me pay, I can't complain. Plus, the rack railway they have there, while very short, is apparently one of the steepest in the world at 52 degrees. I nearly slid out of the seat on the way down...

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We followed the railway with a lovely stroll through the forest, where we spotted a lyrebird - they're brilliant mimics, but this one moved before I could get a good photo.

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And then we took the cable car back to the top...

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Grabbed some lunch and a few more photos, including this stupid selfie with my rather bemused looking relatives.

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Then took the "Skyway Gondola" across to the other side of the valley. It's a cable car. Call it what it is.

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On that side, we took a walk along the cliff, where I got treated to a running commentary from Grandad and Uncle Les about the stupid people going close to the edge and climbing over railings and how they'd fall off and die. I love them both, but I really didn't want to listen to the grumbling, although I must admit that it's hilarious how much alike they are. So I trundled off ahead on my youthful legs.

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We didn't make it all the way to Echo Point, but we did get far enough round to see the Three Sisters. Just.

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And then home for leftover Chinese, during which I showed this photo to the grumpy old men, just for the lulz.

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Hey, guys, you know what you were saying about people going too close to the edge? Here's me at the Grand Canyon.

Oh, the small pleasures.

Next week: Christmas, a few more days with the relatives and then my friend Claire arrives from the UK for a two week jaunt around Australia's highlights.

Gonna be good, right?