Australia: From Reef to Penguins

We're down to the final week of Claire's two week visit. Already we've covered Sydney over New Year and the iconic, beautiful Uluru. This week we're in Cairns where I hope not to have a panic attack while snorkelling and then moving on to Melbourne. Here's how it went.

Delicious kangaroo

We spent a chilled first day in Cairns. Partly because there isn't all that much to do in Cairns itself and partly because we woke up late. Still, we did manage to go for a walk down the Esplanade while Claire was catching Pokemon.

[IMAGE]

And also visited the little regional art gallery, which had these amazing insect kaleidoscope things.

[IMAGE]

And where I picked up a new journal, because I'm running out of pages in the current one and that was only supposed to be a temporary one while I found a nice one... babbling, sorry.

Finally, the supermarket where I really didn't feel like pasta again. So we picked a sweet potato, some salad and kangaroo steaks. Ah yes, kangaroo. One of the few red meats I really like. Delicious and lean. Best self-cooked tea I've had in a while.

Finding Nemo

On Sunday we boarded a boat to take us out on the Great Barrier Reef, which was pretty much the entire reason we were in Cairns. Last time I was in Australia I tried to do the same but had a panic attack almost as soon as I got in the water - I've never experienced anything quite like it and I didn't really want a repeat this time. So I paid close attention to the crew's instructions, donned my stinger suit, snorkel and flippers, grabbed a floatation noodle and took a deep breath.

Apparently I needn't have worried this time. Whether it was because there was little to no current around the boat or whether the noodle was reassuring, I don't know, but I actually got to see the reef from the water this time. Claire and I went halves on an underwater camera, so we also managed to get some good photos. I say we... the camera was hired in Claire's name, so she had to do all the photography. Here's Nemo.

[IMAGE]

And here is a fish I have named the stripy pyjama fish. If someone can tell me what it actually is, that would be cool.

[IMAGE]

And here is the obligatory stupid selfie. Well, it would be, but Claire told me I'm not allowed to post any of the photos of her, so here instead is a photo of me taken by Claire.

[IMAGE]

Hamster face, much. We also took a trip on the semi-submersible, which was awesome. Claire left me in charge of the camera for that one, which is how come I managed to miss the one turtle we saw on this trip. I promise we saw a turtle. I thought I had it in a photo, but it must be camouflaged or out of shot because I can't find it now. Gah.

After a day in and out of the water, we were pretty knackered and Claire had managed to get sunburnt. So we trundled back to the hostel via Pie Face for tea. Nom.

Pancakes? Or Nandos?

An afternoon flight to Melbourne had us arrive just in time for tea. After raiding the info area at the hostel, Claire found some money off vouchers, including one for a pancake place that was apparently just down the road. So we went for a wander in search of pancakes. We found the mall. Couldn't find the pancake place. We were pretty much ready to give up when we spotted it and then decided we weren't really in the mood for pancakes.

We ended up at Nandos instead. That is as thrilling as our day got.

In other news, the hostel we booked is a money grabbing bastard. Anything it can charge for, it will - WiFi, luggage storage... yeah. Oh, and one plug socket for a room of four people? Not acceptable.

What time is it?

We had planned on getting up at a reasonable time so we could go and explore the city. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to account for the time change, so while I thought we were getting up around 9, it was actually an hour later. And by the time we'd stumbled around with breakfast, the original plan had to be adjusted. No worries.

First stop, Queen Victoria Market, just at the end of the road our hostel was on. It's a strange mix of Sunday market tat and really nice stalls. I spent far too long going through every single shot at a photographer's stall, especially when I realised he had some gorgeous photos of Tasmania. I may have gone back and bought one...

We headed next to Melbourne Museum, before I could buy more photos. The museum is pretty awesome and has an excellent collection of local Aboriginal artefacts and art.

[IMAGE]

It also has dinosaurs and other, more recent megafauna, like Megalania, the biggest terrestrial lizard... ever, pretty much.

[IMAGE]

I feel I should point out that dinosaurs and crocodiles aren't lizards, just in case someone plans on trying to correct me. If we're being pedantic, mosasaurs were lizards and they were bloody enormous even compared to Megalania. But they were aquatic.

Random aside aside, the museum also has a very cool geological collection, including this rock which contains zircons accepted to be among the oldest crystals on Earth.

[IMAGE]

Most of the early crust has been recycled so many times that there's nothing left of the early surface and thus not much to use to determine the age of the Earth. Crystals like those zircons survive the melting process. They're a link to the very earliest days on this planet. I think that's pretty cool.

Science geekery aside, we moved on from the museum at kicking out time and hopped on the free City Circle tram. The commentary was hit and miss, but it was free, so musn't complain. Unfortunately, the tram stops at 6pm and instead of stopping somewhere in the centre, it stopped out in the Docklands. Really clever. No warning. Just. "we're terminating here. All change." Thanks, mate.

Fortunately, trams in the CBD are free, so we hopped on another and got off near the state parliament to have a look at St Patrick's Cathedral.

[IMAGE]

And the lovely Fitzroy Gardens.

[IMAGE]

And then back on another tram to take us back to the other end of the CBD where we had tea in a little Japanese place called Menya. I assume it to be good Japanese food, because there were a lot of Japanese people eating in there. The tonkatsu ramen was delicious.

Come in, we have wine!

The following morning, I awoke to Claire tugging on my duvet with a worried look on her face. My alarm was going off right next to my head and I'd been ignoring it. Apparently Claire was worried I was dead...

Not really with it, we piled out of the hostel and onto another bus with an overly chirpy guide. Yay... My mood improved a bit when we stopped for morning tea and I finally got some caffeine in me.

It improved even more when we got to Gibson Steps and finally hit the Great Ocean Road, which was the whole point of this day trip. Our guide was doing it in the opposite direction to most so that we'd avoid the crowds.

[IMAGE]

Bit windy at Gibson Steps. It wasn't quite so bad at the Twelve Apostles, but then again there were bigger crowds there. Managed to get some all right photos though.

[IMAGE]

From there to Loch Ard Gorge, named after the Loch Ard which struck rocks just outside the gorge and sank in the 1800s. Only two people survived and they took shelter in the gorge. It's a beautiful place if you can get rid of the people.

[IMAGE]

Onwards down to Mait's Rest for a walk through the rainforest. Pretty trees - Eucalyptus regnans, some of these, the tallest flowering plants in the world. I think Tasmania lays claim to the tallest ones though.

[IMAGE]

Next stop, Kennett River to go koala spotting. Very little effort involved - there's one in every other tree, although I think Claire spotted them easier than most of us.

[IMAGE]

Still toddling onwards Next stop Fairhaven Beach. It's a beach. Nothing special.

[IMAGE]

There's also the memorial arch to the men who built the road.

[IMAGE]

Final stop of the day was at Torquay where it was pizza for tea. Delicious pizza. And then back to Melbourne. The Queen Victoria Night Market was on, so we had a wander through there in search of souvenirs and other delicious things. The night market is much more craft oriented than the main market, but we didn't find anything that interesting.

On the short walk back to the hostel we passed a sign advertising a garage sale. Slowing down to read it, we were accosted by a woman from inside who invited us in and offered us wine. Bizarre. Still, we had a look and, seriously, it was like we'd just fallen through the looking glass or something. We went in expecting to go, oh, right, garage sale and then sod off. But the place just kept going.

Turns out it's a studio space, so there was loads of art around and when we found an exit, we ended up in the Blender Lane Artist Market. I didn't end up buying anything, but I picked up plenty of cards - these guys are all on Etsy and the like and I fully intend to check them out properly when I get the chance.

[IMAGE]

Pengwings

First stop of the day - State Library, where I once again started daydreaming of having a library like this.

[IMAGE]

After that it was back to the hostel in time for our pick up. This time we were heading out to Phillip Island to see Little Penguins. Or pengwings, for which please refer to this clip from the BBC documentary South Pacific.

However, the penguins wouldn't be coming ashore until after 9pm, so we had plenty of time for other stops. First of these was Tooradin for lunch and also for watching very evil looking pelicans.

[IMAGE]

There was also a ray of some sort, but I didn't get a photo. From Tooradin on to Maru Koala & Wildlife Park, where we got to feed some kangaroos. Not quite as clingy as the ones at Bonorong, but very sweet.

[IMAGE]

Claire got bitten by a pony... And then on to Phillip Island itself where we stopped at Cape Woolamai beach for a while. It was hot. I drank tea.

[IMAGE]

Then to Cowes for tea. What is it with stealing our place names, Australia? I've actually stayed in Cowes before - I spent the very short drive down the main road trying to remember where the holiday home was located. I failed. Tea was good though. Seafood box for me, souvlaki for Claire. Delicious. Filling.

[IMAGE]

Stuffed with chips and seafood, we got back on the bus and drove down to the Nobbies, where we spotted our first penguins. These are the only ones I have photos of because there's a ban on photography at the landing site.

[IMAGE]

The sun going down over the Nobbies was pretty spectacular as well.

[IMAGE]

And finally on to the "Penguin Parade". This is a tourist trap, but for most people it's the only time they're going to see Little Penguins. The critters come ashore after sunset in little groups, hurry across the beach as fast as their little legs will carry them and then have to clamber up the hill to get to their nests. Considering their legs are only a few inches long, I think that's pretty impressive.

And so back to the bus and back to Melbourne, where I fell into bed.

Such a child

And so came Friday and Claire's final day in Australia. We made the most of it, starting with a pancake breakfast using those money off vouchers Claire had picked up earlier in the week, before heading down to Federation Square to check out the ACMI - the Australian Centre for the Moving Image. Last time I was there they had an amazing Disney exhibition. This time it was these guys.

[IMAGE]

Yes, they're fish shaped helium balloons. We spent far too long punting them around, trying to race them, seeing how many we could get airborne at once and generally embracing our inner children. It was great fun. I'm sure there's supposed to be some sort of serious art message behind them, but mostly it was fun.

The permanent exhibition at the ACMI is big on the interactive stuff, which is always great. So we played around with video games - Claire relieved the 90s with Tomb Raider and I tried to get my head round the console controls for Minecraft. We also attempted to create a bullet time sequence a la The Matrix. Unfortunately, we had no idea what to do and completely mistimed it...

[IMAGE]

Yeah... that didn't really work. From the ACMI we moved on to the Ian Potter Centre, part of the National Gallery of Victoria and home to its collection of Aboriginal Art. At least, I thought it was, but I couldn't find it.

Feeling peckish, we went in search of lunch via the souvenir shops, ending up at a little Vietnamese place where I introduced Claire to the joy of pho. I love pho. I can't wait to get to Vietnam and try it there.

After lunch we meandered back to the hostel, where all that was left to do was wait for Claire's shuttle back to the airport. We said our goodbyes and then I went in search of a tram to the bus station. And completely screwed it up. I ended up going back on myself and then still having to walk 10 minutes. Not sure how I managed that one...

And then I spent the best part of two hours sitting at the bus station, eating pie and being bored out of my tiny wee skull. Also dreading the bus journey. I'd opted to take the bus overnight from Melbourne to Adelaide. I've taken plenty of overnight buses on this trip, but the first one I ever took, back when I was studying in Tasmania, was the Greyhound from Adelaide to Melbourne and I didn't sleep at all. I really didn't want to do that again.

So bye-bye to Claire and hello again to solo travel. Next week I'm going to be in Adelaide before catching a flight to Perth. There's a few places I want to revisit in Adelaide itself, but more than anything I want to check out Kangaroo Island.

First I have to survive this bus journey...

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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...

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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.

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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

[IMAGE]

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?

Australia: Am dram, gardens and hiking

I am the world's worst at keeping this thing up to date. Has it really been two months since my last push for updates? Damn.

 So, in the last post I'd overdosed on boat trips and tried my best not to squeal on having a penguin nearly run over my foot. The following week in Tasmania pushed my new-found ability to not plan ahead to the limit...

SQUAWK!

My last full day in lovely, quiet Strahan was wet. Same old, same old. In between the rain showers I first ran to the shop for groceries and then to Banjos because everything is better with pie.

Having wasted pretty much all day dossing about (why on earth didn't I sort the blog out then, past me?), I toddled on down to the tiny outdoor theatre on the waterfront to see Australia's longest running play, The Ship That Never Was. If you've read the last post, you'll know I visited Sarah Island, site of a notorious penal settlement. The play is based on events that took place around the time Sarah Island was being shut down and its convicts moved to the new site at Port Arthur.

So, I toddled in, wrapped myself in the complimentary blanket and hung on to the tiny hot water bottle the guys were handing out, it being a bit cool and damp, despite the cover over the seating.

And so the play began. A two man show, this time played by Chris, the guide from Sarah Island and the friendly chap I'd met in the post office a couple of days before. It soon became apparent that audience participation was very much expected and indeed essential. So I ended up being the parrot.

Yeah...

That was OK while it was just a hand puppet and all I had to do was squawk at appropriate moments (and I definitely didn't sound at all like a chicken... or a crow...) but towards the end of the play I had to don this.

And "fly" out of the theatre to look for land... Which would have been fine if there hadn't been a horde of smartly dressed people walking past at that moment to a function on one of the boats. Oh dear.

That said, it was bloody good fun and educational to boot. The set was pretty awesome as well.

With my culture fix achieved, I toddled back to the hostel and tried to sort out what I was doing next. I only had one more night left in Strahan and I had no real plan. I had thought I'd go down to the Huon Valley, south of Hobart, since it's an area I've never visited. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anywhere to stay that was in my price range.

Hmm... what to do, what to do? And then the internet threw the most enormous hissy fit, refused to connect to anything and basically screwed me over. It took me nearly an hour to get it to behave long enough to get a night booked in Hobart for the following evening.

All right, I figured. I'll go to Hobart, stay the night and work out what I'm doing afterwards.

What happened to me being the queen of planning?

ECHIDNA!

After a morning spent dossing at the hostel (during which the internet continued to play silly buggers), I hopped back on the bus, once again driven by friendly Terence. We wound our way back to Queenstown, picked up an entire 2 people and motored onwards to Lake St Clair, in the heart of the island.

And on the way I saw more echidna. One of which was ambling across the road in that way only echidna have, oblivious to the minibus speeding towards it. Terence stopped in time, fortunately, just as I start with the "run, little echidna, run!" I think that brings my echidna total to six. Not bad for 2 weeks.

Arriving at Lake St Clair, we had a short break during which I wandered down to the lake edge and grabbed a few photos just to prove I'd been there.

Then I bid farewell to Terence and the tiny bus and hopped on a coach to take me back to Hobart.

Back in Hobart, I checked the bus timetables I had for the east coast and found that I could get up to the Freycinet Peninsula. On Wednesday. So I booked a couple more nights in Hobart and settled down, satisfied that I had at least tried to be spontaneous...

Worldbuilding is the best bit

With two days now to kill in Hobart, I decided to revisit the beautiful Botanic Gardens. Hobart's gardens are some of the oldest in Australia and the collection is amazing. First though, I got talking to one of the volunteers and it turned out that he also writes fantasy and we had a gloriously geeky chat about worldbuilding. As you do.

The gardens, as expected, did turn out to be pretty good for writing inspiration, but they're also fascinating from a scientific perspective. There's this gorgeous fernery, which I want but would never be able to look after.

Some gorgeous flowers, none of which I can remember the names of, although I think my macro photography is improving.

[IMAGE]

The gardens are also home to the only collection of Sub-antarctic plants in the world (as far as I can see...). Most awesome. These guys cling on in places like Macquarie Island where they're battered by wind and rain, salt and freezing temperatures. Tough little buggers.

[IMAGE]

Having got my fill of botany, I wandered back into the city via the site of the Beaumaris Zoo, home to the last captive (and possibly last altogether) thylacine, Tasmania's marsupial wolf. It says something about old zoos when you consider that in this small area there were leopards and polar bears as well as a whole host of other critters. That's a lot of animals crammed into not much space.

[IMAGE]

And then I got attacked by the wind which stole my hat. That was great fun, chasing my hat down the road while also trying to keep my otherwise lovely sun dress from flashing my knickers at people...

What's with the British telly?

I spent my last day in Hobart reading. And booking my airport shuttle for next week. And reading some more. And finally being most bemused that Nigella Lawson was on the telly. It seems like, aside from the news, the only programmes that ever seem to be on are from the UK. Oh, or those reality things about traffic cops and border security...

Disconnect

Wednesday started early because I had to lug all of my bags down to the bus stop. It also started early because I realised late on Tuesday night that I hadn't actually booked my connecting bus. So at 7 in the morning I'm frantically sending emails to the local bus company and hoping that, even if I can't reply, they'll get the message and come and get me.

As a result, I spent the entire 2 hour plus trip from Hobart up to the Coles Bay turn off freaking out that I'd be stranded there with no way to get to Coles Bay itself. I started taking note of where houses were in case I had to walk somewhere to get help. Yeah, that was just... glorious fun.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried, because the minibus was waiting for me at the turn off and all was fine. Since it's a local service that also deals with freight, we had to stop to make a few deliveries on the way, which was a novel experience and reminded me of that time I had to take the "post bus" when I went camping in the Yorkshire Dales with friends from school.

Safely in the tiny town of Coles Bay, I checked in and wandered down to the bakery for a much needed cuppa. And a Lamington, because I'm told they're a very Australian thing and also, CAKE.

After that delicious snack, I wandered into the town centre, which was exceptionally windy.

[[IMAGE]

And also very small. Seriously, Coles Bay is lovely, but it's a village more than a town. It has, as far as I could tell, exactly one shop, plus a cafe. Sweet though.

[IMAGE]

In the evening, I even managed to be a bit social. This might be because there was no WiFi, or I might just be beginning to enjoy talking to random strangers.

Well, that was a stupid thing to do...

On the Thursday morning, having purposefully dumped myself in a place where there was nothing to do but walk, I went walking. First stop, the Visitor Centre to grab a Parks Pass and a Eucaflip. I might see if I can get the Eucaflip framed when I get back to the UK. It's an ID guide for Tasmanian eucalypts, but I like it even more because it was co-created by one of my lecturers from UTas.

Anyways, after confusing the parks lady with the revelation that I wasn't driving into the park and therefore needed the cheaper pass, I toddled off along the beach and then the road to Honeymoon Bay.

[IMAGE]

Yes, I am aware that I only visited Honeymoon Bay a week or so ago, but it's such a gorgeous spot and I wanted a nice easy walk to start off with. I scrambled about on the rocks for a while, embracing my inner child and then settled down to enjoy the view.

[IMAGE]

A couple of hours of doodling and writing later, I tramped back to the Visitor Centre to use the free WiFi, at which point I realised that my legs were looking a bit pink and promptly remembered that I hadn't reapplied my sunscreen. Ah.

This would explain why my legs were so very ouchy when I got in the shower at the hostel. Jeez. I don't think I've ever sunburnt my legs before and I don't intend to do it again. OUCH.

I made up for this stupidity by being super social in the evening and going to the pub with a couple of folks from the hostel. Their cider selection was all right, but I've had better. Still, at least Australia has cider.

Wallaby near miss

The following morning my legs were still very ouchy, so I did the sensible thing and put my actual walking trousers on to keep them out of the sun. Sensible because I intended to tackle Wineglass Bay and the thought of more sunburnt was not nice.

Sophie who came to the pub very kindly dropped me off at the Wineglass Bay carpark and so I set off. First, back off up to the lookout. My legs can't have been that bad, because I managed it in about 30 mins and so was off to a good start.

[IMAGE]

Step two, down the other side of the pass to the bay itself. Knowing what Tassie's woodlands are like, I coated myself in DEET to keep off the winged demons and set off down the steep track. Not far from the bottom I nearly came acropper, stumbling over a rock and scuffing my palms. More ouch to add to the list.

[IMAGE]

The trek down wasn't too hard. My occasionally dodgy knee even managed not to crunch. Down at the bottom, I got comfortable on the beach and had brunch - delicious sweet potato with sweet chili sauce. Yum. It also gave me chance to clean my scuffed palm which led to more ouch when I, unthinkingly, used hand sanitised to get the bits of sweet potato off my fingers. Fuck, that hurt.

With stingy hand to add to the ouch list, I headed back to the main track. I had intended to just head back over the pass and so back to the hostel. But I was feeling sort of energetic and when the sign informed me that the Hazards Circuit would only take me up to 5 hours and was only 11km long, I figured what the hell? Let's give it a go. I had plenty of water, my lunch was still in my bag and I was slathered in sunscreen.

So I toddled off across the narrow isthmus that connects the two parts of the Freycinet Peninsula, emerging half an hour later on Hazards Beach. Tramped down there and spotted a wallaby.

[IMAGE]

Well, I say spotted. The thing nearly jumped on my head. See the ledge it's sitting on? A bit further back along the beach, that's about head height to me. So when it leaped out of the bushes, I could have sworn it was going to land on me. As it was, I think the wallaby was just as surprised as me. Luckily for me, it decided to sit quietly on the ledge long enough for me to get some fairly decent photos.

Anyways, wallaby incident done with, I set off again around the circuit, occasionally giving myself minor heart attacks by convincing myself there was a snake on the path. Seriously, some of those tree roots were remarkably snake-like until I got nearly on top of them. Ugh.

[IMAGE]

The Hazards Circuit isn't quite as busy as the Wineglass Bay track, so I had the place nearly to myself for the most part, which was amazing. It's one of the things I love about Tassie - that sense that you're the only one there.

Such illusion was vanquished when I arrived back in the carpark and started trekking back along the road towards Coles Bay. I was still feeling remarkably energetic, so the several kilometre hike to the hostel didn't seem like a problem.

Still, when an Aussie couple pulled up next to me and offered me a lift, I didn't say no.

Apparently I'm either getting stupid or more confident, because I never would have got in a random car before. They kindly dropped me off at the Visitor Centre where I once again made use of the WiFi and also acquired a new spork since my old one is missing most of its tines - not great when you're trying to skewer sweet potato out of your lunch box.

Since I'd been really healthy and done my nice long walk, I splashed out on a bottle of cider from the tiny shop. Om nom nom. Willie Smith's is better than the 5 Seeds I had in the pub the night before. Good stuff.

Well, my time in gorgeous Tasmania is coming to an end. Two more days on the Freycinet Peninsula and then back to Hobart to catch my flight back to Sydney and Christmas with relatives. That's going to be good, right? I'm going to miss Tassie though.

Still, food and accommodation over Christmas...

Chile: To the End of the World

Oh my. What''s this? A new blog post? Huzzah! This time, week 3 of my Chilean leg, which saw me go from the rather soggy but beautiful island of Chiloe to the city of Punta Arenas in Chile's far south.

Um... words?

That is literally all my journal has for this day. I wrote a lot. Y'know, what with it being NaNoWriMo and all. I have vague recollections of discussing Bonfire Night with someone. Welp, that was an interesting day, clearly.

You know there's sea lions down there, right?

Fortunately, I was rescued from my NaNoWriMo overload on Sunday by some of the girls at the hostel who invited me to join them for a trip to Muelle de las Almas on Chiloe's west coast. Having lost most of my week to, admittedly very enjoyable, writing, I jumped at the chance.

After a quick stop at the bus company to book my ticket back to Puerto Montt the next day, the five of us piled onto a little local bus to Cucao on the west coast. An hour or so later we arrived in the village, dropped the locals and then continued on down a very bumpy, unsealed road along the coast.

Another quick stop at the "entrance" to the park, where we paid our 1,000 peso entry and then back onto the bus for an ever more bumpy ride to the start of the trail. I reckon it probably took us nearly two hours altogether from Castro and even though I don't generally get travel sick, that bus ride wasn't entirely pleasant.

Once off the bus, everything improved. The sun was shining, the sky was clear and the track was... muddy.

Very muddy. Off we tramped, trying our best to avoid the worst patches. A few slips and slides later, we finally emerged from the shrubbery to this wonderful view.

And then on down to Muelle de las Almas, which is an art installation. Literally "the wharf of souls", it relates to indigenous Chiloe and Mapuche mythology (of which more info HERE), but also acts as a memorial of sorts to the victims of the enormous 1960 Valdivia earthquake - at a magnitude of 9.4-6, the largest ever recorded.

I don't understand enough Spanish to translate the info board, but I appreciated it nonetheless. It sort of reminds me of Cape Reinga, which in Maori mythology is the last place souls go before passing on to the next world.

I would have loved to have sat and admired the view for a while, but the wharf itself was overtaken with people taking their delightful Insta-ready photos and selfies. So I wandered on down the cliff a bit and discovered that on a rock just off shore were a whole load of sea lions. The rest of my group hadn't even noticed them. Even the guy we'd got talking to on the bus hadn't seen them and he was standing right next to me.

Personally, I thought they were pretty easy to spot. They were making plenty of noise...

Anyhoo, once the girls were finished with their selfies and whatnot we headed back up the hill. There's only one bus a day and we didn't really fancy missing it. We did find time for a quick detour over to the cliff overlooking the next bay, which was equally gorgeous...

Until I pointed out that there weren't any sea lions on that side and I realised that the girls hadn't known there were sea lions full stop. Oops. Maybe I should have mentioned it before we left the wharf? My bad.

After clambering back up the muddy hill, we piled back on the bus and settled in for our drive back to Castro. I fell asleep. Clearly the fresh air had done me good.

And then I immediately sat back down at the hostel and wrote another 2,000+ words. Just because.

Time for a taxi

The following morning I lazed around for a couple of hours before lugging my bags back up the enormous hill to Castro town centre in order to get a bus to Puerto Montt. Here is a photo I took of the palafitos - stilt houses - along the estuary. My hostel was one of them.

An uneventful 4 hour bus journey to Puerto Montt ensued. I hopped off the bus in the city and promptly realised that I'd forgotten to take a note of how to get to the hostel. I had an address, but without a map, that was pretty useless. It being nearly 3pm and me not having eaten since breakfast, I popped into a cafe at the terminal, hoping to use the WiFi.

The WiFi failed to work. The burger was nice though. Unwilling to just wander in the vague direction I thought the hostel lay in, I grabbed a taxi instead. Woo. At least the taxi was cheap.

Super friendly owners at the hostel. Improving mood was then ruined by Google Docs sabotaging every attempt I made at writing. I don't think it appreciated the by then nearly 70,000 words I'd written and kept glitching and crashing. Stupid app.

Patagonia Bound

After a delicious breakfast of some sort of sweet, syrupy toast made by my American host, I hopped on yet another bus, this time to Puerto Montt's airport. A few hours later, I was on a flight bound for Punta Arenas in Chile's extreme south and the hub for all things Patagonia.

Among odd things that happened, I saw a dachshund in a crate going round the luggage claim and was then told by the shuttle sales man that my Spanish accent was quite good. I suppose if my actual Spanish is bad, I might as well make up for it with a good accent...

I then spent the evening watching the US election results come in and wallowing in despair with my Dutch roommate.

What have you done?

OK, so this day's journal entry begins with "WTF AMERICA?!" and I think that adequately describes my response on waking up to find Trump as president-elect. Terrifying thought.

I decided to deal with this by taking a long walk in the fresh air and so set off first into Punta Arenas city centre and then along the rather blustery seafront.

I found a whole jetty covered in cormorants, which is probably the closest I'll find to a "case of shags".

Having walked several miles, I looped back around and popped to the supermarket to stock up on groceries, acquiring some delicious fresh bread in the process.

And then it rained on me. I was rather drippy by the time I got back to the hostel and was quite happy to spend the remainder of the wet and windy afternoon writing.

Rain. No rain. Rain. No rain?

On Thursday morning, having consulted Google for things to do in the city, I decided to take the nearly 4 mile walk out to the Museo Nao Victoria. This should have been wonderful - the museum is home to replicas of Magellan's Nao Victoria, Shackleton's James Caird, the Beagle and the Goleta Ancud (which, having visited Ancud the week before, would have been cool to see). I love maritime history and ships are fascinating.

I didn't make it there. I'd walked perhaps 2.5 miles and turned around to take a photo of the city. As I did, I saw this enormous bloody black cloud looming up behind me.

Having been caught in the rain the day before, I didn't really fancy doing it again, especially considering the museum was pretty much all outdoors and I'd have to walk the almost 4 miles back to the hostel when I was done.

So I wussed out and walked back. Guess what? I didn't get rained on at all. Although it did rain that afternoon while I was swearing and arguing with Google Docs over its insistence on sabotaging every single writing session...

I also started looking into the possibility of going to Puerto Williams for a night or two. The town is pretty much as far south as you can go in Chilean Patagonia without getting a boat and I was seriously considering getting the $130 return flight. Seemed like a good way to see Tierra del Fuego, a region I've wanted to visit since it first appeared in the Brian Jacques book Castaways of the Flying Dutchman when I was... 12, maybe?

Decisions, decisions

Adamant I'd actually do something instead of sitting around all day, I spent Friday morning in the Museo Regional Magallanes, which is housed in a rather swanky old mansion near the Plaza de Armas. So swanky, in fact, that the lady at the entrance handed me these beauties to cover my boots.

So stylish. It's also yet another of Chile's free museums. I'm loving this. The main floor is partly a display of the rooms as they would have been in the early 1900s when one of the city's most influentional families - the Menendez-Brauns - lived there and partly an exhibition of Patagonia history. I liked the study most.

Downstairs is, again, partly restored to the service area as it was in the early 1900s and also houses a very small temporary exhibition. I was mostly amused by the British products in the kitchen, of which I failed to get decent photo courtesy of the bad light. There was Colman's mustard, among others.

I then spent the afternoon flitting between reading the first book in Stephen King's Dark Tower series (which has me hooked), writing MORE WORDS and still trying to decide if I should go to Puerto Williams. I was leaving that decision rather late - I had a flight booked to Santiago for Monday afternoon.


So, will I end up in Puerto Williams? Will I stop writing all the words?

And more importantly, aren't there penguins down here?

Chile: Rain and Writing on Chiloe

Onwards with my attempt to bring the blog back up to date!

Following my five days of laziness in Santiago and a somewhat soggy arrival in Ancud, here's how my first week on the beautiful island of Chiloe went.

A fellow WriMo!

My first full day in Ancud began like the previous day. Rain. Just a little bit soggy... Fortunately, it brightened up around lunchtime, so I took a stroll into the town and had a poke around the craft market where I was amazed that no one tried to get me to buy anything. I was even more impressed that I didn't buy anything, although that was largely due to practical reasons - there were some really beautiful ponchos and cardigans, but I just don't have enough room in my bag. Ugh.

On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at the little regional museum. To my utter glee, it was free. Seems that Chile is a bit bigger on the free museums than anywhere else I've been so far.

The museum is only small but has a really good selection from the history of settlement on Chiloe, plus this ship, which is the schooner Ancud.

It carried Chilotes down to Patagonia to establish the first settlements down there. That's pretty cool. The museum also has this blue whale skeleton, because skeletons...

Everything is in Spanish only, but I impressed myself by getting the gist of most of it. I've also cheated and downloaded the Spanish dictionary into my Google Translate, so when I got stuck that was super helpful.

After a nice lunch and some more writing at the hostel, I set off again, this time with Lizzie and Heather, a couple of girls from the hostel. First stop, the little harbour.

Then a short walk up the hill to Fuerte San Antonio. To be fair, it's not much of a fort - more of a gun emplacement. There didn't seem to be any info boards, so I can't tell you much about it. There's a low wall and some cannon, hence why it strikes me as a gun emplacement only.

There's some gorgeous views out over the bay though, especially since the weather had cleared up a lot since the morning.

From there, we meandered through the streets of Ancud and on up a dirt road to a view point. I'm not sure it's an official view point. There's masts on top. But hey, the view was pretty good.

And then on back to the hostel, where we nearly but not quite avoided the incoming rain. Wine was drunk and Lizzie and I got talking about NaNoWrimo. I thought it was pretty cool to bump into another WriMo like that. Heather was just bemused by the idea of writing 50,000 words in a month...

Bus Trippers Galore!

The following morning, determined to get some fresh air and not spend all day writing like I really wanted to, I headed back up to Fuerte San Antonio. It had been pretty quiet when we went up the previous day and I figured the views would be nice inspiration material.

Of course, it was Sunday and the place was heaving with bus trippers. For some reason, I'd decided to try my hand at sketching the bay and the number of people trying to peer at my notebook was most disconcerting.

I'm not an artist, but I was pretty pleased with my sketch. I've always preferred landscapes and considering I haven't drawn properly since... god knows. Uni, maybe?

Anyways, with my peace and quiet ruined by the noisy, nosy bus trippers, I returned to the hostel and gave in to the urge to write instead. Now there's a creative outlet I'm actually sort of OK with. I suspect I lost my afternoon creating basic language rules for fictional cultures...

LURGIES

On Monday morning, the lurgies I'd been fighting since I landed in Santiago, probably brought on by the recycled air on the plane, struck with full force. Headache, streaming nose, sore throat. Yep. Just what I needed the day before NaNoWriMo kicked off.

I downed a couple of paracetamol to deal with the aches and decided to brave the rain in the hope that the fresh air would make me feel better. It also gave me an excuse to wear my fancy alpaca gloves from Peru.

Unfortunately, while I normally quite like walking in the rain, lurgies combined with torrential downpour and wind conspired to make me feel even worse. I retreated to the hostel, downed a couple of mugs of tea, did a quick run to the supermarket for tissues and extra tea bags and then spent the afternoon getting my brain prepped for NaNoWriMo.

And then 9pm came around.

See, NaNoWriMo kicks off at midnight, November 1st. But I'm going to be switching time zones at least once if not more this month. So instead of confusing my brain I decided to just stick with my usual UK time and start at midnight by that clock. Which meant 9pm Chile time, much to the confusion of a couple of the guys at the hostel who'd insisted on knowing what I was doing typing so many words.

I think I managed 3,000 words before crawling, snuffling, into bed. Not bad considering the mushiness in my head.

WRITE ALL THE WORDS

The contents of my journal for today run as follows:

• 20k day
• that is all
• dead

Which is pretty much true. I'd set myself the challenge of writing 20,000 words on the first day of NaNoWriMo. Just a personal challenge - an attempt to pass my personal best of 15,000 words in a day. In between a fight with my bluetooth keyboard (which changed settings and wouldn't let me use the A key for half an hour), lurgies and far too much tea I achieved that goal.

It killed my brain. To my complete surprise, when I read back through those 20,000+ words, most of it was of a decent standard, not the garbage I'd thought I was writing. Well done, me.

I think it freaked a couple of my hostel-mates out though. Sorry, guys. I type fairly quick and my brain, when it's on a roll, works pretty fast too. Also, I just spent October doing ALL the planning.

Yep. NaNoWriMo ate my soul.

Words, rain, words, bus, words, sleep

After the madness of that 20k day, I'd rather expected to take it easy on the Tuesday. Instead, Chiloe continued with its spate of bad weather, so I didn't feel too guilty about doing some more writing.

I also had to make a run to the bus station first thing in the morning to sort out a bus to my next destination further south on the island. Congratulations to my word-addled brain for conducting the entire transaction in Spanish despite the strange (and persistent) urge to use German when I get stuck.

With nearly a whole day to waste before my bus, I poured out another 8,000 words of mostly coherent novel while outside it rained. And rained. And rained some more. Any thoughts of taking a break and going for a walk were rained off.

And then I got on a bus. It rained. And then it stopped, which was nice because I had to wander up and down a street in Dalcahue for a good ten minutes before I found the sign for my hostel. The very friendly owner spoke no English and my brain was so mushy by that point that I really struggled to grasp everything she told me.

Fortunately, while the common area was heaving, I had the dorm to myself, so I jammed out another 2,000 words, ate some chocolate biscuits and passed out for the night.

It's on stilts...

Determined to take a break from writing and revive my poor, overworked brain, I went for a stroll to the bus office the next morning, intending to head to Castro as soon as possible so I could have a wander around the town and get away from my keyboard.

The ticket lady told me I'd be better off getting one of the public busses - they were 100 pesos more expensive (an entire... 15p?), but they ran every 15 minutes or so instead of the sole daily bus my by then usual bus company ran.

So I toddled back to the hostel, thinking I'd pick up my bag and go. And hit a snag in the form of the keys not working. I didn't understand this. The owner had given me the keys that morning and told me she'd be back at 12. So I tried the keys. Both of them. Neither of them worked. Believe me, I tried them repeatedly.

Nothing in Dalcahue seemed to be open despite it being nearly 11am, so I sat on the step like a ninny waiting for someone to arrive and let me in. Luckily for me, the cleaning lady turned up around 11am and was able to let me in. She seemed rather amused to find me on the step and more so when I tried to explain in minimal Spanish that the key wouldn't work.

I had to wait for the owner to get back anyway, because I hadn't paid, so I managed a bit more writing while I waited. Once paid, I grabbed my bags and wandered off in search of the bus.

Up to this point, I hadn't used any public transport in Chile. Everywhere I went in Santiago had been within walking distance, as had everything in Ancud. Still, the little buses looked to be fairly well maintained and for 800 pesos (about £1), one would take me 20 minutes or so down the road to Castro.

So I piled into the tiny bus, rucksack balanced on my knees. The driver was surprisingly safe, which was lovely, although I did wonder whether the presence of one of Chile's carabineros might have had something to do with it - Chile's police are supposedly the most trustworthy in South America.

I clambered off the bus again in Castro town centre and began the 20 minute trek to my hostel. I was not prepared for the massive hill, although I suppose I should be glad I only had to go down it.

It rained. A lot.

Bag dumped in my room, I set about looking for a new writing space. I found a lovely one in the common area, in the bit of the hostel that sat on stilts over the estuary.

I'd just got everything set up - tablet, keyboard, cuppa, biscuits, y'know, all the important things - when I realised all the plug sockets were on the other side of the narrow room. Ah.

So I rearranged the room a bit... Just a bit. Just... shuffled the table across slightly. Just far enough so that I could run the power cord from my tablet to the socket. I mean, I could hardly have my tablet die in the middle of an important scene, could I?

Yup. NaNoWriMo. Taking over my life again. Which is why I'd written a grand total of 40,000 words by the end of day 3. Have I mentioned that the goal is to write 50,000 words over the month? Oops.

GREEN BAR!

My first week on Chiloe ended much as it had begun. With rain. An awful lot of rain. I wasn't even going to attempt to go out in it - it was coming in sideways past the windows in the hostel.

So I wrote instead.

And then the rain eased off for half an hour, so I went and restocked my groceries. Oh, and I took a photo of Castro's very funky yellow and purple church.

Very funky. Although thinking about it... I think that photo might actually be from another day... y'know, given the blue sky... my bad.

And then the rain returned, so I wrote some more.

And a bit more.

And at 7:30pm, as attested by a rather overexcited post on Facebook, I passed 50,000 words and my tracker on the NaNoWriMo website turned green. Yes, I am a sad, sad person, but I was very pleased that I'd managed to write 50,000 words of my current fantasy novel in 4 days. So there.

This may also have completely fried my brain, so after a cuppa I had an early night, like the old lady I am at heart.

Hopefully, week 3 of my Chilean adventure won't be quite so consumed by NaNoWriMo. A few more days on Chiloe and then I'm heading down to Patagonia and the city of Punta Arenas.

MUST NOT WRITE MORE WORDS

Fish & Chips & Dracula: A Day Out in North Yorkshire

North Yorkshire is a lovely area. Desolate, rolling moorlands come down to steep cliffs on the North Sea coast. Took a trip up there recently with my dad and sister and thought I'd share some of the pretty bits.

First up, the lovely little village of Robin Hood's Bay, on the coast between the seaside towns of Scarborough and Whitby. Quaint place - all narrow streets and old fishing cottages.

I should probably note that this trip was in March and the weather was fine but chilly so I was surprised by how many people were out on the beach.

No one seems all that sure why it's called Robin Hood's Bay. It doesn't seem to come up in any of the early Robin Hood tales, but it's had the name since at least the 1500s, so who knows!

Well worth a stop if you're driving up the coast road between Scarborough and Whitby if only to feel like you've stepped back a century or so. For those thinking of staying more than the hour we did, there's the tiny little Dinosaur & Fossil Museum, which I am informed by my dad that I have been in, many moons ago. There's also a whole host of pubs and cafes, all of which seemed pretty busy given how early in the season it was.

Getting there: 5 miles south of Whitby/15 miles north of Scarborough off the A171 coast road. Parking is at the top of the hill in the village. Be prepared for the walk to the bottom of the cliff and back - it's quite steep in places.


From there, we headed north along the coast road to Whitby in search of lunch. It being Whitby, lunch sort of had to be fish and chips. There's plenty of chip shops to choose from in the town, but for someone from Grimsby who's used to fish & chips being relatively cheap, the prices can be a bit steep. Not that most others would notice, I'm sure.


Anyhoo, we settled on Russells, which does very nice chips and then went for a wander. Whitby, like Robin Hood's Bay, has little narrow streets but doesn't have quite the same feel. It's much more touristy. Not a bad thing - there's some really nice shops around the eastern bank of the river.

For a real history kick, climb the 199 steps from the base of the cliff up to the Abbey. The Abbey's pretty important in the history of Christianity in England and I'd really recommend going in and having a look. Sometimes there's reenactment groups in, which are great fun. Vikings running around? Oh yeah.

On this occasion, we bypassed the Abbey and had fun trying to read some of the old gravestones in the churchyard next door. We especially liked the Latin inscription on this memorial, which translates as Death is Inevitable.

Which brings me almost neatly onto Whitby's other claim to fame. It features quite prominently in Bram Stoker's classic gothic novel Dracula as the port through which the eponymous vampire enters England. Whitby has embraced this and if you're in town on the right weekend you can enjoy the peoplewatching that comes with Goth Weekend.

Getting there: Whitby is easily reached from the A171. The area around the harbour can get a bit short on parking at the weekend, especially over the summer. There's more parking at the top of the cliff near the Abbey.

If you're heading south from Whitby and you've already driven the coast road, I'd recommend heading over the top of the moors on your way back. It's a beautiful scenic drive, with plenty of opportunities to stop or turn off and explore the valleys. Just don't go trespassing into Fylingdales base - don't think the Americans would be too happy about that.

Also, if you head over the moors and you're that way inclined, the North Yorkshire Moors Railway is pretty good fun and there's a really nice walk between the stations at Goathland and Grosmont.

Have you got any recommendations for places to see on the North Yorkshire coast? Why not share in the comments.

Wonderful Walks: Afternoon Strolls & Epic Tramps

It's my dad's birthday today. He does a lot of walking and this summer, just before I leave for the Grand Tour, he's taking on the Three Peaks Challenge. So I got thinking about which walks I love and which walks I'd love to try. Here's a few.

Tried & Tested

For which read: I, my dad or someone else I know and trust has walked it and liked it. As such, these are mostly in the UK. Naught wrong with loving your home country!

Viking Way, Lincolnshire & Rutland

I'd have liked to have picked just one part of this long-distance footpath which runs from Barton-upon-Humber in the north to Oakham in the south, but there's just too many nice bits. Try out the northern end for a nice stroll from the Humber bank or head a bit further south to the extent of my Viking Way experience and take a ramble through the rural Lincolnshire villages of Donington-on-Bain, Goulceby and Scamblesby. My favourite part though is the tramp over the hill between Walesby and Tealby - you can see for miles from up there and you might even catch sight of some Lincolnshire Long Wool sheep. Funny critters.

Snowdon, Gwynedd

The highest peak in Wales (and second highest in the UK) and yet a surprisingly easy climb. Now, you could cheat and take the train either up or down, but where's the fun in that? I'm told the easiest climb is the one I took with my family a few years back and that starts in the little town of Llanberis. From here the path follows the railway most of the way to the top. Be warned, the first section up out of the town is possibly the steepest! Don't let it put you off. You'll be rewarded with amazing views, providing the weather holds out.

Be aware that, as with most mountainous areas, the weather up Snowdon can change quickly. Be prepared.

Flamborough Head, Yorkshire

This headland sticks out into the North Sea and as such can get a bit wild, but catch it on a good day and it makes for a beautiful walk. Start at any car park and just go for a stroll. It's very hard to get lost - just follow the cliff edge round!

If the tide is out, head down to the beach at North Landing and do some exploring. It's a long time since I went down there, but I'm pretty sure there's a couple of small caves. Just be careful and don't go getting cut off by the tide.

Lyke Wake Walk, Yorkshire

Enjoyment isn't necessarily a factor in this challenging walk. While the others above can be done in any timescale, this 40 mile tramp across the North Yorkshire Moors must be completed in 24 hours to really count. My sister managed it with a group from school a few years ago and while she was tired and aching by the time she finished, I'm sure she was pretty proud of herself for managing it.

Uluru Base Walk, Northern Territory, Australia

Uluru (also: Ayers Rock) is a magical place. A huge lump of rock rearing out of the desert, cast in beautiful light by the setting sun...

Yeah, so we know Uluru is awesome and you should see it yourself. If you do, don't just stick around for sunset/sunrise. Take a walk around the base to get a better grasp of just how special the area is. It's sacred to the traditional owners, the Anangu and every nook and cranny of this massive rock is rich with stories from the Dreamtime. I'd suggest going with a guide to make the most of the myths - there are, if I recall, some info boards, but a guide will go into so much more detail.

Just be aware that it gets very hot in Australia's Red Centre. Temperatures regularly hit the high 30s (Celsius, not Fahrenheit) and it's very dry. Take plenty of water and wear a hat.

Daydreams

For which read: long tramps in (mostly) foreign climes that I haven't done.

Tongariro Alpine Crossing, New Zealand

When I found out Dad was going to do the Three Peaks Challenge, I decided I needed to do some sort of challenge walk while on my Grand Tour around the world. Now, I enjoy walking, but I'm a bit out of practice so I'm not about to leap into the Inca Trail. The Tongariro Alpine Crossing, on the other hand, is a one day tramp across New Zealand's Tongariro National Park and is about 12 miles in total. Of course, it's up and down over weird volcanic landscapes, but I figure I could do that. Just have to hope that the weather is better than when I first visited Tongariro...

Overland Track, Tasmania, Australia

One of Australia's great walks, this trail winds through Tasmania's western wilderness, from Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair. Here's Cradle Mountain, hiding in the cloud.

Of course, that was in winter and the track is most popular in the summer when the weather's a bit better. That said, I've seen how quickly the weather changes in Tasmania and I wouldn't trust it to stay nice. I'm considering doing it though - Tasmania's such a beautiful place and this seems like a great way to do a bit more exploring.

Three Peaks Challenge, UK

This exists in a few forms in the UK. There's the National Three Peaks, where walkers climb the three highest mountains in the country - Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon. The challenge here is to walk it (including transport between the mountains) in 24 hours. Sounds like a spoiled walk to me.

There's also the Yorkshire Three Peaks, which includes roughly the same distance walking, but less climbing and takes in the mountains of Whernside, Ingleborough and Pen-y-ghent in the Yorkshire Dales. The challenge is to complete it in 12 hours. This is the one my dad's going to do in the summer and I'm sure it'll be fantastic.

However, I'm rather inclined to agree with the great Alfred Wainwright:

Some people have chosen to regard the walk as a race, and this is to be greatly regretted. Walking is a pleasure to be enjoyed in comfort

Looks like a really nice walk, though. I'll have to try it myself one day.

Appalachian Trail, USA

Perhaps the queen of long distance tramps and certainly one of the best known, this trail runs from Maine all the way to Georgia, a total of about 2,200 miles. I can't begin to imagine the challenge of walking this all in one go but it's been done and must rank as one of the ultimate walking challenges. As for me, I wouldn't mind trying out a few sections. After all, it looks to pass through some really beautiful country.

Inca Trail, Peru

Famous for leading to the magnificent ruins of Machu Picchu in the Peruvian Andes, the Inca Trail runs through beautiful wilderness and in places follows the original Inca routes through the mountains and forests. It's incredibly popular, so numbers are limited to protect the track. I'd really like to do this one day, but I think for now I'll settle for just seeing Machu Picchu. I don't fancy the idea of getting partway down the trail and falling ill with altitude sickness. Much better to have that happen when I'm nearer civilisation. Say, Cuzco?

So, there's a few options there - shorter walks in the UK to multi-day hikes across the world. I'd love to know if any of my readers has done any of the longer treks!

Where are your favourite hiking destinations? Do you dream of undertaking one of the world's great walks or have you already done it? Share in the comments below.