What follows is an account of the 1990-91 adventure to the other side of the world. Whilst not quite up to Paul Theroux or Bruce Chatwin level, its still a good read. Comments welcome.
TIMBUKTU
The waiter brought me the menu:
Capitaine Bamakoise (Fried Catfish)
Pintade Grillee
Dessert.
"Good" I said.
"What time can I eat?"
We eat at eight", he said.
"All right then, Eight".
"No Monsieur. We eat at Eight. You must eat before Seven or after Ten".
"Who's we?".
"We", he said. "The Staff".
He lowered his voice and whispered: "I counsel you to eat at Seven, Monsieur. We eat all the food".
from THE SONGLINES by Bruce Chatwin.
8.31 pm, Pacific Daylight Time, 17th October 1990
So, here I sit, at Gate 77 in LAX, whiling away the hours until the flight to Australia. Once on the plane, 13 hours of boredom set in. You can't do anything except sit there and switch off. This will be hard, since I have Chicken-pox! ! Itch, Itch, Itch, Scratch, Scratch, Itch, No must not Scratch, Scratch, Aaaaghh. I wonder will immigration let me in? I certainly don't look like my passport photo! I'm sure they'll let me in…?
Other notable events:- at 5.04pm, 1 year ago to the day, San Francisco was hit by an earthquake. Is this an omen?
11.10am, 25th October 1990
Here I sit, in the New South Wales library, trying to be intelligent. Anyway, some comments on the first 6 days...
All the shopping takes place in plazas, which is fine, except that they don't tell you where the plazas are, nor what shops are in them. I spent ten minutes in one plaza wandering around only to come out of the plaza ten feet from where I went in. This "Congratulations, you found the building so you mustn't need our help" attitude extends to department stores." We sell things, and yes, we have more than one floor". Or museums: "Yep, we have a restaurant, but I can't remember where we put it." Me dost think them designers forgot about the people! Oh yes, and don't try going shopping on Saturday afternoon, as all the shops in downtown Sydney shut. People like going to the beach too much. There's even a daily surf/swim report at 5pm for all those leaving work!
Oh look, the Finnieston crane! Yet another UK export. Sydney is a strange place. It is a combination of the UK and the US, with the British-ness winning through. The funniest example is the pedestrian crossing. Half of them use the green/red man, while the rest use the walk/don't walk sign. Maybe one day in the future, Australia will design its own system, perhaps using the green/red kangaroo system.
Well now, the Sea; probably Sydney's most important asset. In the harbour area it looks a bit murky, and there's some green algae in the tidal area. But then again, there is also a lot of fish. Apparently some of the beaches put signs up warning bathers of pollution, especially in summer and after rainstorms. At least they warn you. By the way... the word "Aborigine" actually means something to do with 'settlers' . "Aborigines" now prefer to be known as the Koorie. My Chicken-pox is receding. Soon I'll look as normal as I ever did.
I haven't learnt the names of the streets I've been walking along. You don't really need them as it is a grid-city. Perhaps a more accurate reason for me not learning the names is that Sydney doesn't feel permanent. One block up from my hotel is the World Plaza (under construction according to the map). What the World Plaza really is is a big hole, about 200 ft deep, with some work done on it. No one works here anymore, not since the recession (which one!). It is cheaper for the financing company to pay for the equipment to remain on site, but not build anything ? the money for the building stays in their bank. Many other gap sites await the return of better times. True Oz, the really big bit that everyone ignores, could easily re-colonise Man's attempts to build a better living environment. Koyaanisqatsi : Life out of balance.
I have now been to the Australian museum three times. I now know roughly what a Eucalyptus tree looks like (green), and I know exactly what a Red-back spider looks like (red stripe down its back), and a Sydney funnel-web spider (looks deadly) and a blue-tongued lizard (blue tongue, but not dangerous). Red-back also looks like a beer (sic). I'm not so clued up on my snakes ? fourteen species of which are poisonous (including the world's most lethal). I've also seen Crocodiles and Sharks at close quarters, but they don't worry me, because I can see them. I can understand the damage they do, it is physical. With scorpions, snakes, spiders and some fish/jellyfish it is harder to come to terms with. It is the venom that provides the protection, not brute force. Perhaps when I leave this man-made island (Sydney), I shall confront these fears.
26th November 1990
To update, the last month spent upside-down, in Sydney, Australia. Been to the beach. Manly beach. Went swimming in the sea! Didn't sink (much). Been to the beach again. Been to the beach again. Feel unwell (sunstroke). Stayed indoors all week-end. WORK: I've worked! Mmm. Unfortunately it was extremely hard physical work ? dismantling industrial shelving. It nearly killed me. Especially since we worked for 10 hours solid, and it was about 35 degrees Celsius. AAAHG. And all for $83 (£35).
Sydney Morning Herald, 19/11/90. A report on the NSW Forestry Commission shows that they made $28million profit. Unfortunately, since they are a government body, they are exempt of certain taxes, land rents etc. It is calculated that the exemptions amount to about $32million. Therefore, the NSW Forestry Commission cuts down the valuable forest and sells it to industry and makes a loss. No wonder Oz is in a recession. It has also been found that the Commission has 4 planes and 1 helicopter. They only have two pilots. Most of their time is spent chauffeuring the executives about. Tut Tut.
Walked from Narrabeen beach to Manly. About five miles of golden beach, with next to nobody on it. The water, polluted as it may be, is still far cleaner than any of the holiday resorts in the UK. Passed some surfers administering first-aid to a fellow surfer with a broken leg. Then onto Dee Why beach, very nice, and then N and S Curl Curl, before returning to the Manly beaches. What a nice way to spend the day. Rounded off with a gentle ferry trip back to Circular Quay.
The following day I was let out of Sydney for the very first time (24th Nov). Time to see the famous Blue Mountains, and Katoomba. Its a two-how train trip to Katoomba, most of which is spent going through the suburban sprawl of Sydney. The most striking thing about the Blue Mountains is not that the air is blue (the Eucalypts give off a blue vapour), but that every nook and cranny is covered with trees, trees as far as the eye can see. And further. I've never seen as many trees in one area, and what's more it's all natural, unspoilt forest. Walking through the valley bottom is exciting, with animals and birds all around you (you know they're there, but you can't see them). Kangaroos and Koalas, Parrots and Cockatoos, lizards and funnel-web spiders. Funnel-web spiders! AAAAAGHHH! Hang on, I'm in the middle of the wilderness. There are no other man-made sounds except those that we trampers make. No skyscrapers, no cars, no people. Nothing. Except untamed Australia. "Can I go home now?".
25th was spent recovering from the physical exercise of my bush walk. Mind you, sunbathing on Coogee beach, trying not to look at the topless females, swimming in the sea, and listening to the radio can be extremely hard work! I found out later that a number of sharks were seen off the beach. "Scotsman eaten for lunch by shark". Now that would be something to write home about ? assuming I was still there to write the letter.... On the 26th, I gave up Chocolate. Chocolate contains three drugs: Caffeine, Theobromine and Theopylline. It's also full of sugar and fat. I also stopped drinking Diet Coke. Nutrasweet in some cases actually causes people to eat more. It is also full of Caffeine. Giving up Diet Coke lasted 1 day. I still don't eat chocolate.
New Year's Day 1991
2pm, time to get up, very gingerly. Suffering from an Ozzy Hogmanay .... 2.30pm time to go back to bed and hide from the sunlight. Here I lie, whiling away the daylight hours, waiting for my stomach to recover.
I've now completed my walk from South Head down to Bondi (5 miles), and also been down to Botany Bay, where the First Fleet arrived. The water around Bondi and Botany is crystal clear, partly because the sewage is now pumped 4 miles out to sea. Now it looks so clear and inviting - just like in the tourist brochures. Especially with temps in the lower 30s! I've also been as far north as you can go within Sydney - to Palm Beach and Avalon. I had planned to walk down to Narrabeen but the coastline is so narrow and rocky that you can't walk along the beaches, and there isn't a path. Using the narrow road is the only option. Took part in a market research discussion on the Sydney transport system. Food and $30 thank you very much. 20th and 25th were the two hottest days at 40 degrees Celsius (@104 Fahrenheit). 21st and 22nd were a couple degrees lower.
Christmas Day. Oh this was tough. After the dinner the night before, no-one wanted to do much. Everyone at the hostel made their way to Bondi. I took the Lion Rampant to wave in front of the English. Unfortunately one small Scottish flag was no match for the giant Union Jacks. At least Scotland was represented! Some groups also took Christmas trees, three-piece suites, loud music etc. It was good fun though, sunbathing and swimming on Christmas day...
New Year's Eve was another time for men drinking. The highlight was the firework display over Sydney harbour, set to rock music. It was great, especially the blue and purple fireworks. Then we took over a bit of road in the Rocks, along with 100 000 other revellers, and saw in the New Year eleven hours before those in the UK.
3rd - 7th January 1991: Canberra
Freedom! While Sydney wasn't looking, I broke out! Ten weeks in any city is too long if you aren't working. But now, with no work available (in the last 3 months, advertised jobs have dropped 70%), it is time to boldly go where no Neil has gone before.
By bus. 10500 miles by bus is quite a long way.
Travelling to Canberra, I was in awe of the countryside. Not only was all this land once covered in trees, before the Brits got here and destroyed it, but there is nothing but land. It goes on and on and on. Unlike home, the horizon is so far away that it barely takes up a quarter of your view. The rest is the deep blue sky. Much of the cleared land is grazing, but the evidence of the past splendour of the forests can still be seen in the river gorges that run off the Blue Mountains. Little puffy puffy white clouds scurry nowhere in the vast expanse of the deep deep blue sky. The road cuts through the beauty, straight through the beauty. We race along in our oh so comfy air-conditioned with ginormous windows looking onto the passing tapestry. The concrete strip cuts through hills and over magical streams and through forests of fallen trees, and cows pull up grass where there should be eucalypts and Koalas and Kangaroos and Emus. In two centuries, us Brits have fucked up this beautiful land to create a more familiar landscape that can be harnessed, and controlled. For 40,000 years the Koorie lived hare in harmony, but not us:
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, Hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
from Wild Swans at Coole by W.B.Yeats
Canberra, the ultimate planned city, and capital of Australia. Designed by Walter Burley Griffin, the intention was to create a city with long, tree-lined avenues, majestic civic buildings, and quiet, safe housing neighbourhoods. Though the plan was modified so as not to be so regimented, much of Canberra is as Burley Griffin envisaged. To me, looking down the long avenues from atop the various hills made Canberra for me. By the way, Canberra is a poor translation of a Koorie word meaning meeting place. How apt for the Capital.
Within Canberra, the Parliament Building is the most impressive construction, and well worth visiting. It cost a billion dollars, and is designed to last 200 years. The guided tour highlights the architecture, art and proceedings well. It is also air-conditioned. Outside it is again 42 Celsius. Ouch!
The War Memorial, at the other end of Anzac Parade, is also interesting. As a memorial it is good, but the exhibitions tended to glorify not war, but Australia's involvement. On a world map, lights show you where Australians have served their country. Not only are the Boer, WW1, WW2, Korean, Vietnam (and now Gulf) shown, but these were sub-divided to show the involvement of each and every type of force, gender of force, and status (eg reserves). It seemed that the more lights on the map, the better. Perhaps I'm just too cynical.... The National Art Gallery is a disgrace. OK, I didn't like it. But then I expected Australian art not Jackson Pollock and Andy Warhol. I suppose one must pander to the locals. Should it be National or International? Now there's a dilemma for them.
Met a man called Michael at the Youth Hostel. He wasn't an ordinary fellow. His style of clothes was perhaps the most visible sign of his own eccentricity. Hair in a pony-tale with purple hair band, purple "Star Trek" type shirt, matching shorts and socks, finished off with a large "Nuclear-free" pendant. Also available in Black, White, Yellow, Pink, Violet, Green, Light Blue, Dark Blue, and no doubt, Crimson. Always working at the fringes of acceptability, (he did turn down a job as a mercenary), Michael at the age of 42 has bean retired for 6 years. Originally from England, he's been in Oz for some ten years, and was on a last binge of Oz before returning to the UK. He doesn't trust Australians. Having had $200,000 embezzled by accountants, his judgement might be coloured. Nevertheless his views were interesting.
The official stories say that the convicts sent to Australia were only guilty of minor offences. Apparently, we also cleared out the 'loony bins'. The result, allegedly, is that corruption is pretty common today. Police we often drug dealers on the side. Indeed one of the hazards of bush walking is getting snared in traps near drug plantations.
Michael also feels that Australians have no friends. They buy their plot of land, build a home, and stay inside. Having seen suburbia, I can well imagine people leaving work, going home, and staying in. Apart from going shopping, Australians rarely have to interact with other people. Most activities we solitary, or in family units. There might not even be anyone living within 40 miles of you. Whites cannot cope with the environment either. When it gets muggy, family disputes increase, and someone kills the rest of the family, then themselves, almost daily. Only a very few whites we really at home here. One person I did meet in Sydney did fit in. He was simply known as Ozzy John.
Here we go, here we go, here we go on a bus trip to Mt Kosciusco (2230m). On the way, our friendly driver tells us about all the notable sights en route: "There's the biggest shopping centre in the Southern Hemisphere". (I will resist getting on my soap-box about shopping centres). "On the left is the airport". "On the right is John's Flats. Named after the owner of the land." "Up ahead is a tree". "Here is the avenue of flags" (you can do a day-trip to the avenue of flags - all 8 of them). "This is a road, built by people". I started to get the feeling that anything in Oz could be called history. And it's such a long way to anywhere.
At last we reach Charlotte's Pass and gaze up at the totally unimpressive Mt. Kosciusco. All this way for that? But we did get to go on an underground railway from Mt Blue Cow to Perisher (owned by Kerry Packer) and then down to the base. Because the ski resorts are in a national park, the railway had to be tunnelled, at great expense. It will take over 40 years to break even.
Thredbo, the ski resort in Oz, is tiny, and boring. Nuff said. Return Canberra. The best view of Canberra is definitely from Mount Ainslie. The hike up there was hard, but well worth it. And there's an ice-cream van at the top! PS, instead of Thrushes, Crows etc, Canberra has brightly coloured Parrots.
11am, 17th January 1991
War broke out in the Gulf.
I was going to fill you in on my travels, but with the world plunged into War, I don't really feel that they're all that important.
8th-16th January 1991, Tasmania
Here we go ... to Tassy. Unfortunately, the Abel Tasman leaves from Melbourne.
Melbourne. HATE. HATE. HATE. The architecture is abysmal, it isn't tidy, there's nothing for a tourist to do, no seats, there are no viewpoints, many of the buildings need a couple of coats of paint, the trams are antiquated (Victorian!) and there are no open spaces near the city centre. The river is muddy. In fact it reminds me a lot of what Glasgow 20 years ago may have looked like. But Glasgow has open spaces, friendly citizens, and we've now knocked down many parts of the centre!
12 hours in Melbourne was 10 too many.
Leaving Melbourne was fun. Hip hip hooray. The boat sailed off down Port Phillip Bay before reaching the sea. Sixty kilometres out and something interesting happens. As the ship gets further away, suburban Melbourne disappears, then the bottom of the skyscrapers and, finally, the tops. The Earth is indeed, curved, and I shouldn't fall over the edge. Now we sail to that tiny island at the bottom of Oz, famed for the Tasmanian devil, and the elusive Tasmanian tiger. Tassy is, roughly speaking, the same size as Scotland...
Two days spent relaxing in Launceston, and visiting the Cataract Gorge and its associated tourist attractions. Great fun. Lovely weather. Hire a car time! (I don't trust the bus services here, and need that extra level of independence afforded by the car). First stop was Deloraine (looks like the Cotswolds to me) for brekky. Then lots of driving to the mecca for environmentalists, Strahan (pronounced Strawn). When the Hydro-Electric Commission wanted to flood the lower Gordon river, the environmental lobby stepped in. Apart from being unspoilt wilderness, the Gordon river is also home to the Huon pine tree. The oil from which is the only know oil that sinks in water. It would take pages to discuss environmentalism in Tassy, and I won't bore you. Suffice to say that Tassy now has a green tinge ? the balance of power is held by the Green party. Read "The Rest of the World is Watching" for details.
The Gordon River is also where David Bellamy was arrested. The trip I did was ... tranquil, if a bit chilly. I wasn't overly impressed (yet more trees everywhere), but I could understand why it should be protected. As Australia was only discovered 200 years ago, much should be unspoilt. By definition, only Antarctica should have more/bigger national parks, protected from Man. Alas, like many definitions, this one isn't very good.
Had to fix a flat tyre in Strahan. I wasn't going to travel on Tassy's roads without a spare tyre! No way! Just outside Queenstown, there's an interesting bit of road. According to the map, there's two bits where there is no road. The map was right ? it's still being built. This is the one, no, only road on the west coast! I think the idea is that we drive on the gravel to compound it (they can't afford steamrollers) and in about two years, time, they'll put some bitumen on top. Met an oh so cute but nearly squashed Echidna on the road. It's just so cute! It's like a hedgehog, and waddles across roads (which are almost deserted). Unlike hedgehogs, they don't stop and curl up. They just keep waddling, and this makes it easier to miss them. Cute!
21st January 1991: Adelaide
War: some feelings. Because Australia is so remote from anything relevant, there have been great debates, nay demands, that the three Australian ships in the Gulf be brought home. The peace movement feels that it's not Australia's war and that no Australian should give their lives "for oil". Here, in Adelaide, about 1% of the population demonstrated against the war. Hobart had some 5% on their demo. But then Tassy is also remote in an Australian context. It seems that when asked to fulfil it's international role (through the many agreements signed), Australians don't want to know. The Hawke government wasn't quite so introverted.
The marches had a number of pressure groups involved: some against war, some against this war, some highlighting the 'new world order' hypocrisy and East Timor. Perhaps they were forgetting that Australians too we an army of occupation. Those Koorie not decimated would love to have their lands back! I saw two men with placards shouting at the demonstrators "What would you do if we were invaded?" As the march was anti-war, it is a poignant statement. Perhaps once occupied, raped, pillaged, and defeated, those remaining Australians would like to sit down wound a table with their oppressors and calmly discuss their legitimate right to self-government.
Adelaide: quite pretty, but nothing really remarkable. The beach part, Glenelg, is OK but not a scratch on Sydney. It is nice though to pick you own grapes in the garden. Adelaide's most endearing quality is that the City centre is surrounded by open space. However, it also does cut off the centre. Just wait till crime becomes a real problem. 4 days in Adelaide is way too long. 2 would be better.
From Adelaide to Perth is 2700 kilometres. It takes roughly 36 hours. We leave Adelaide at 8pm, travel through the night, onto the Nullabor plain, spend the day crossing the Nullabor plain (hugging the coast), pass through Mundrabilla, (the half-way point and where the bus crews change over), and on through Norseman and Kalgoorlie during the second night. At 8am, on yet another clear day, we arrive in Perth, Western Australia. The Nullabor (allegedly meaning no trees) is a flat, featureless plain about 500 miles long. It is covered in bushes, which provide excellent cover for the poisonous snakes (which are on display, in jars, in the roadhouses). The road also has the longest piece of straight road anywhere in the world - 80 miles.
24th - 29th January 1991: Perth
Perth. What a wonderful sight. Admittedly Dundee would also have been a wonderful sight, if only because it represented civilisation (of a sort). I don't think that more than 200 vehicles could have passed us in 36 hours, out there in the wilderness; that untamed and harsh land that is Australia. Perth, even ignoring what preceded my arrival, was nice.
The centre was again built up skyscrapers. But the city centre also has a very nice location, on the Swan river. There is also the lovely Kings Park, which affords a great view of the city. One thing I did learn in my travels is, if possible, go up the highest tower/hill/whatever to see the city as soon as you can. Admittedly, if it is raining, there isn't much point!
However, this time I wasn't going to stay in the city centre, but some 5 miles down-river at the port of Fremantle. Its most recent claim to fame was that the America's Cup was held here. My reason for visiting was to buy art. Art? Yes, unbeknown to the casual acquaintance, I'm interested in art. But not any art ? just one particular Koorie artist, Sally Morgan. Unfortunately, the paintings cost more here than in the exhibition in Glasgow where I first saw her work. I quickly became a frustrated art buyer.
Fremantle, or Freo to it's friends, is great. It has history, being the port of Perth, and where the original garrison was. It has culture, with dozens of wt galleries, museums, workshops, restaurants, beautiful bars with open-air balconies, live music, cinemas, etc,etc. In fact one of the nicest memories is being able to drink outside, watching the stars above, at midnight. From one of the many bar balconies, one could watch the thriving night-life go by. It also has expensive Sally Morgan paintings.
But Perth's real unique feature is that is has its own holiday island, just off-shore. A forty minute boat trip sees me on the beautiful sand island of Rottnest:
"Take me, take me, take me to excitement,
Take me, take me, take me to my island, ROTTNEST!"
from rock radio advert
It has everything:- crystal clear aqua-marine seas, golden beaches, no cars, many pubs, restaurants, all manner of water activities, unique wildlife (Quokka), rock-pools, and the most southerly occurring coral in Australia. I only explored part of the island, and would willingly go back. It is a hard life, spending the day on this island, temperatures above 35 degrees Celsius, in January.
The next day, it was time to walk the beaches again. I restricted myself to the first 10 kilometres or so, north of Freo. The beaches actually run hundreds of kilometres unbroken. WOW! Oops, no-one mentioned that this one was nude! Having walked (ok, paddled in the Indian ocean) through the nudist beach, it did seem rather funny to watch everyone on the normal beaches, trying to get a sun-tan without revealing too much skin to the sun, and those around. Seems to be some kind of silly game that we must act out. I couldn't help thinking that those who went au naturel probably had the right idea. With temps in the high 30s (in the shade), the ocean temp at around 28, good music on my Walkman, and paddling along the surf, it was yet mother lovely day! The Monday was also nice, because it was independence day celebrations! Another firework display set to rock music, rounded off a great few days in Perth.
29th January - 6th February 1991
Here we go! Another long bus journey, to Darwin! Leaving Perth behind, we head north through the land known as Western Australia. Area 2,525, 500 square km. If you exclude the size and population of Perth, there are 4 square kilometres of land for every man, woman and child in W.A.. It is three times the size of France. It is BIG. There are very few noteworthy places en route. Dampier/Port Headland is quite interesting. W.A.s chief export is minerals. Through these two ports, W.A. is sending iron-ore to Japan. To be more accurate, Mt Tom Price is being shipped through Dampier and Mt Whaleback through Port Headland. And I mean the whole of the mountain is being shipped. Next port of call is Broome, where half the population is Japanese, drawn here for the pearl fishing.
"What do you mean the bus terminates here? I want to go to DARWIN!"
We have a problem. About three hundred miles further up the road, at a place called Fitzroy's Crossing, the river draining from the Kimberley mountains, has risen 4 metres above the bridge. The bridge is 15 metres above the normal level of the river. No road. It was the only road. The bus stops here ........ in Broome ! More rain fell last week than in the past 8 years. Broome, five hundred kilometres from the nearest settlement. Broome, where it is 45 degrees and about 100% humidity. Broome, where it is raining. Broome, where the shops have no fresh food as it goes off. Broome, where everything is damp. Broome, where I am stranded.
Within minutes of this catastrophe, I'm in the Backpackers' hostel, then off to the open-air cinema (opened in 1916!) to watch "Henry V". We spend the next day lying in the pool. With 100% humidity, might as well be in the pool. Gloom sets in. Broome is not five hundred but 624 kilometres from anywhere. Doom sets in. The road is washed away at Fitzroy's Crossing. It will not be open for at least a month. I've only just got here, and I want to leave. Some people have been here six days. They've gone mad!
But with the news that there isn't no road, the bus company announces that we can use our bus passes to backtrack (not normally allowed). We eagerly buy all the tickets for the next bus out. So, after thirty six hours stranded, the bus leaves for Perth; and we are the Backtracking Backpackers of Broome.
It's a dull 4100 kilometres back to Perth. It is equally dull to go to Port Augusta, 2400 kilometres back across the Nullabor. It is, surprisingly, dull to travel the 1200 kilometres to Ayres Rock, up the centre of Australia. I'm still 2100 kilometres away from Darwin. Welcome to the Red Centre. Hang on, if this is the red centre, why are there all these green things, commonly known as grasses, bushes and trees? Welcome to the Green Centre. Home of Ayres Rock (correct name "Uluru") and the Olgas ('Katatjuta').
No rest for the wicked! Within 2 hours of arriving at Yulara, the resort at Ayres Rock, after 5 days on a bus or two, it was time to go on .... a bus tour! First off is a trip to the Olgas, and mighty spectacular they were too. In many ways they were much more interesting than Ayres Rock. Both Uluru and the Katatjuta are sacred places to the Koorie, and care must be taken. On no account can anyone climb any part of Katatjuta. Jail follows, along with a $10,000 fine.
The tour driver also set us clear on some of the misinformation that us tourists get in the museums. For example, the Aboriginal "dreaming" doesn't exist. The closest word is "dremeng", simply meaning imagination. The stories thought up, or imagined, are for (1) to explain what you see, (2) a form of map, known as a song line, and (3) entertainment.
What would you do if you come across a waterhole in the desert? Go for a swim? What would a Koorie child do? Swim? No. They don't know how to swim. They drown. Hence stories exist about serpents that will drag small children under the water and kill them! If one does drown, the myth is reinforced. Equally, water is sacred - the giver of life. You don't go swimming or wash in it, it's too valuable. Hence to us, the Koorie are a dirty, uncouth race. To them we are horrors, wasting the giver of life.
It is these stories that are depicted in their art. We analyse the rock paintings and probe for the inner truth. The leaf or feather motif is often described as just that. It is in fact a family tree which, if we could understand it, would prevent in-breeding. But why should we know how it works? What rights have we to pry?
Sunset at Ayres Rock wasn't very exciting. Any piece of coloured rock will change colour as the sun sets. What was spectacular was the sunset over the Olgas. The evening was rounded off by lying in the giver of life watching the stars, and the odd shooting star.... A little man-made oasis in the ever-so green Red Centre. Up early to beat the heat, and up the side of Ayres Rock. Being steepest at the bottom, I had to rest after 5 minutes for about 10 minutes to allow my heart to slow down and not explode. Too much sitting on a bus. But if this is how it affects me, pity the really unfit. People die climbing Ayres Rock. Two days after I climbed it, another died from exhaustion. "If it's the last thing I do". The view from the top is great. You can see for `hundreds of miles', over the green Red Centre. It would look nice on film too, but I put a used film in the camera, and double exposures are all I got.
Now on to that wonderful Darwin, 2100 kilometres away. I didn't intend to stop in Alice Springs, but we had a problem. The road was flooded, just north of Alice. The Todd river, which hardly ever runs through Alice, was flowing. Nothing endeared me to Alice, and I was glad three days later to leave her behind. Then we met the lake, flowing down from the hills, across the road, and on into the dry, Red Centre. In convoy we ploughed through the 3 feet deep waters and onward, at last to Darwin, twelve hours later.
11th - 17th February 1991
Darwin, up the top end. The capital of the Northern Territory. At 76000 people Darwin has half the population of the entire Territory. It is a mecca, not only for the tourist, but the Australian too. At last, having taken the long way, I have arrived. Darwin, the whole reason for my visit to OZ, to go to Kakadu National Park, 200 kilometres away.
It is wet. Very wet. In fact it is the wettest Wet on record, and the locals love it. I don't. There is no point in going to Crocodile Dundee's Kakadu. The road there is open, but with so much water all the birds and animals are sheltering. I met a fellow traveller who had just been to Kakadu. He didn't see any wildlife. He just got wet. A day in Darwin is enough, when its raining, and you can't visit the natural wonders. Time to get a ticket to the Barrier Reef, more precisely, Cairns.
"What do you mean the bus is cancelled?" Broome all over again. The road to Mount Isa is closed. Well, actually, it is now a lake. Drastic action was required. On the 13th, I flew out of Darwin, stopping at Gove (a bauxite mine, totally reliant on air transport as there we no roads to Gove), before on to Cairns.
Flying from Darwin to Cairns allowed me to see much of the flooding, and also note that there were trees everywhere. Rainforest. I thought the tourist brochures said Australia was a dry deserty place with kangaroos every where. Me thinkst that a better description would be a land covered in green trees, dangerous animals, and, north of the Tropic of Capricorn, is under 3 feet of water. Approaching Cairns, dodging the mountains and lining up for landing, I could see great waterfalls cascading down to the sea. I never knew that so much water could flow so fast down a river.
Cairns. Quite a nice place, but like much of Queensland, one cannot go swimming in the sea between October and April. Another killer lurks - the Box Jellyfish. One tends to get stung only once in your life by a Box (also known as a Stinger). Mercifully, out on the reef itself, there we no Stingers.
I took the best trip, the Quicksilver, out to the Agincourt Reef, some 25 miles out to sea. At least it wasn't raining. On board the boat, instruction was given on safety, and how to use snorkel equipment. This was useful for me, as I'm not that great a swimmer, and have never snorkelled. Once at the floating pontoon, it was on with the gear and ready to enter the water. GULP! Splutter! SINK! Breathe! GULP! Glug glug glug. This isn't as way as I thought! After ten minutes or so I had watered putting the mask into the water, and not the breathing tube. Wow, there's fish, fish, and more. They're only inches away. Can I touch them? "Hello, fishes." GLUG GLUG Splutter! Surface! Cough! Panic? Tread Water. Breathe (this bit is a good idea). Must remember not to speak to the fish while underwater.
The reef is magical. Thousands of fish surround you as you swim. Others hide in crevices and under corals. I lie on the boundary between our world and theirs, and marvel at the wonders of nature. Then I see a predator fish (no, not a shark) ? a Marlin. It's sleek 3 foot body slid powerfully by, no more than ten feet away. Then there was a blur, a splash and it was over. The Marlin had dived, spun round, shot out of the sea, taking a fish on the way, before diving back to the seabed 25 feet below me. I was only quick enough to catch a view of it briefly in mid-air before I lost it. Fifteen seconds later I found it again, having lunch on the seabed. WOW.
After my own lunch, more fish watching. By now I had learnt that it is easier to snorkel than swim, and my enjoyment was even greater on the Barrier Reef.
17th Feb - 3rd March 1991
Time to leave Cairns for the Whitsunday Islands. I turn up at the bus depot, to find out that this is the first bus to leave Cairns in five days. Here we go, here we go. En route we stop at Tully, named after the river famed for White Water Rafting. Today was special, the river had come to town and you could raft down the main street, past the supermarket. Our boat with wheels gaily carried on. We met the Townsville-to-Cairns bus, and the bus drivers swapped. When we got near Ingham we came across a tiny little problemette. A small stream is supposed to flow under the road and eventually into the Herbert river, which a few miles further down, enters the sea. Unfortunately for us, the sea couldn't cope with the amount of water flowing down the Herbert. The water was therefore backing up (to about 17 metres above normal), and our little stream couldn't discharge its water into the Herbert. Our poor little stream didn't know what to do. And it got angry and started to flow up hill, and flood the road and surroundings. It was time to beat a hasty retreat to a nearby pub. We could then check on the water level every few hours.
Welcome to Bemerside, Queensland. Population 40; 1 pub, 10 houses. Elevation not nearly enough. We listened to the radio for the bad news. Up stream, at Abergowrie, the waters were at +17 metres and rising. It takes 24 hours for that water to reach Ingham. We awoke on the 18th to find the surrounding fields flooded, and the road now under 6 feet of water. Great for boating, but not so hot for bus travel. We are marooned, with dwindling supplies. Food is sent to us from Ingham via the railway line. Most of this wasn't flooded, and someone accidentally managed to get a jeep with bogeys, put it on the rails (illegal) and drive the supplies to us. At the end of the day the water was 6 inches short of coming in the pub. Last time Abergowrie was +17 metres, the flood level went 8 feet up the Bemerside pub. We was worried.
Many people chose to sleep in the bus again. Not me. No air conditioning, no way of lying flat, being bitten alive by mosquitoes, and a cool night temperature of 30 Celsius was not my idea of fun. I chose to sleep out in the back yard, on a picnic table, covered in my sleeping sheet. I was joined out the back by the Cane toads, Red-backs, poisonous snakes, and all the other creepy crawlies trying to keep dry. The mozzies had a field 'night', but at least I did get some sleep.
Tuesday was spent playing pool, drinking the pub dry of Diet-Coke, and looking out across the tranquil waters to the mountains, where yet more rain was falling. Two poisonous snakes were killed during the day. Wednesday saw the emergency helicopter, flying in milk and bread (no Diet-Coke). A pub that runs out of milk! Lucky I had travellers cheques on me. No one had thought to bring enough money for a week.... or however long. More food from Woolworth's arrived by rail. I, and my poisonous companions, slept well. I also had some mosquito coils, which seemed to work.
Late on Thursday evening, the bus - in convoy - drove through the not so angry stream, and we were free. Three hours later we were in Townsville. Civilisation. It took 111 hours to do a 10 hour journey. Real food was available. And a bed! And a swimming pool! I had to wait another day in Townsville before the road south at the Burdekin river was open.
No more stops for me, I don't trust this environment. 36 hours later I saw the wonderful sight of Sydney. Having been around Oz, it is no longer the fragility of Sydney that amazes me, but that it exists at all. It is a miracle. Total distance travelled @ 13000 miles.
3rd - 9th March 1991
Welcome to New Zealand. Welcome to Auckland.
"What do you mean the last bus has gone?"
Auckland isn't quite as a bustling place as Sydney. The bus to town stops running at 8pm. It is now 8.05pm. Luckily, there was a free bus to a Backpackers hostel, which eventually left at 9pm.
Timings were to become a major problem today, Monday 4th. I arrived 10 minutes early at the Mount Cook bus terminal to find the office already open. The time is 8.20 am. I buy my bus pass, and then book for the morning bus to Rotorua. That bus, unfortunately, leaves at 8.15am, and explains why the office was open before 8.30am. But luckily, a mini-van was doing a tour of the countryside at 9 am, and would eventually end up at Rotorua. So I found myself on a tour, getting all the info on the economics, politics, and social problems of N.Z.
We arrived at Rotorua at 5.10pm and I booked in at the YHA. I then went to book my tour of the thermal areas. Mt Cook closes at 5pm. The Tourist Information at 5.30pm, and the supermarket at 6pm. I only managed to get into the supermarket. Not a successful day really. Perhaps this jetlag/time zone thingy is making me run an hour late or something.
Here I sit, at a picnic table, at the Waiotapu thermal springs. The sun beats down from an almost cloudless sky; a gentle breeze rustles the trees and keeps the wasps at bay. This is only the third sunny day since I climbed Uluru. How nice! Went to a Maori Concert in the evening.
Wellington, the capital of New Zealand, hugs the bit of land between the sea and hills. The odd earthquake does help though by raising some more land out of the sea. I was staying with mum's bridesmaid and family on top of one of these hills, unfortunately without a view. The guided tour was conducted by Ann's husband whilst Ann was at work, and then it was her turn to take me for a hike up another hill, Mt KauKau (not Cow Cow as I initially thought). I'll do the tourist traps on my return.
To cross the Cook Strait, it's another idyllic boat trip, under blue skies. Two dolphins race to meet the ship's bow as we make our way to the Marlborough Sounds. Passing into the Tory Channel, we chug along and let the beautiful scenery glide by. We arrive in Picton half an hour late.
The trip down the Kaikoura coast was nice, but not exceptional. Desolate, and a lovely colour of aquamarine, but not quite as beautiful as everyone says. It is though, the place to go whale watching. Then onto Christchurch. Half an hour is not really long enough to make up one's mind on a place, but from what I saw, it looked nice.
"What do you mean the bus is broken?" The driver turned the key again. Yep, that sounded pretty terminal. 10 minutes later and the mechanic had worked out the problem: a flat battery. After a jump start, we leave half an how late for Temuka, to meet my gran's cousin. Mary and Jack turned out to be great fun, and made me feel right at home. Having a wonderful West Highland Terrier called Flick helped. The fact that there was a pipe band competition going on in Timaru probably helped too. The scenery also looked like parts of Scotland. But you can't sail the South Pacific in Scotland! Yes, I went sailing on the South Pacific in a 15 foot yacht with Mary's daughter and her husband. They were so courteous, and the surroundings familiar somehow. An upside-down Scotland. Time though to move on, towards Queenstown and the famous Milford Sound.
11th - 18th March 1991
Queenstown, a holiday resort set on a loch side, that could just be renamed Loch Lomond, and the hill at the far side renamed Ben Lomond. Alas the lake is called, Wakatipu, and the hill is Cecil Peak at 6000 feet. Ben Lomond, is on this side of the lake, and rises to 5300 feet. I kid you not! Many of the place names we Scottish, such Glenorchy, Bannockburn and Loch Linnhe. It seems that half of Scotland emigrated to this part of the South Island.
Well now, it's called the Triple Challenge. First you get in a speedboat and race up and down the Shotover river at 35 miles an hour. Then we go in a helicopter over the mountains and land on a beach next to the Shotover river further up stream. Then you get in a raft and raft down the Shotover - one of the worlds' best White Water rivers ? to where we started the challenge in the Jet boat, five hours earlier. Nothing to it!
It was great: the Jet boat is exhilarating, the helicopter takes your breath away, and the rafting was so tranquil as to become unreal. The water level was so low as to pose no difficulty, so we ended up lazily paddling/drifting down the canyon, admiring the cliffs and soaking up the sunshine and atmosphere. The only way anyone got wet was by being pushed in.
If you really want to, you can also do the Awesome Foursome. This is as above, but you also get to jump off a bridge, 229 feet above the Shotover, with nothing to stop you dying except a large rubber band. Bungy Jumping! There's nothing quite like it (I've been told), but at £80 for 5 seconds of awesome fear, I'm content to listen and not do. However, 35,000 people chose to do it. The next day was spent relaxing at the Skyline restaurant, 2600 feet up a hill, watching the hectic life of Queenstown go on below. It was hard work, lying there under another clear blue sky.
This is it: the day trip to Milford. Five hours by bus to Milford, travelling through a combination of landscapes reminiscent of Scotland and the Alps. And then we get to Milford ? and it is cloudy! Aagh. Never mind. So off we go, sailing under 5000 foot cliffs and waterfalls, and past seals. Then the most spectacular part of the Sound; dolphins. A school of dolphins, resident in the Sound, ride the bow-wave, and us mere mortals are left speechless by their intelligence and grace.
In the following few days, I lazed around Queenstown, breathing in the clear air. I returned again to the Skyline restaurant, but opted to walk instead of taking the gondola. There were many times whilst climbing that I thought perhaps the gondola was better.
The 18th saw me in Fox Glacier. The uniqueness of the glaciers found on the west coast of New Zealand is many-fold. They occur relatively close to the Equator (@44 degrees South), they occur in temperate rainforest, and they are advancing. In the space of only 3 or 4 miles, the mountains rise from sea level to 12,000 feet. Such a formidable barrier causes extremely high rainfall, hence the dense rainforest, and recent poor weather has meant that the glaciers have grown. Indeed, until earlier this month, it had poured almost every day. Can this be the same island that I'm on. In the last 2 weeks, I've only had two poor days. I took a guided glacier walk, which was easy, but still hard work.
That evening I took a Japanese lesson from my room-mate. Oyasuminasi (Goodnight )
19th - 26th March 1991
Happy Birthday to Me Happy Birthday to Me Happy Birthday dear Geriatric Happy Birthday to Me!
My 25th birthday (local time), was spent on an Intercity coach, from Fox to Nelson. The journey was a long one, and the 19th even arrived in the UK before I reached Nelson. No birthday cards, no prezzies. Not that it is the first time I've been away on my birthday: '86 was Swansea, '87 Majorca, '90 Tenerife, and now '91 New Zealand.
Nelson was wonderful. Just the right size to have good shopping, but not too spread out or overcrowded. Its location on the bay, and being one of the most sunny parts of New Zealand all made it just right. I could, if pushed, live here. It also has a wonderful antique shop. Normally, I'm not one for visiting antique shops, but this one was full of collectable items which, back home, are already in private collectors' hands. But here they were, at knock-down prices. If I had the money, I wouldn't have had it after visiting this shop. As it was, I bought an old clockwork 16m cine-camera for £30. A steal! While in Nelson, I looked up Mary and Jack Parker's daughter Glenys and ended up out at their's for dinner.
I flew out of Nelson on yet another gloriously clear day (no pollution in this neck of the woods) and flew over the Marlborough Sounds and Picton, before heading out across the Cook Strait, over Ann Henderson's house, and into Wellington. That night I received my four birthday cards. Three of them were OK, but one dared to print the numbers!
Saturday was my sightseeing day in Wellington. First off was the War Memorial. The War Memorial is also a Maori sacred sight, and one must therefore take off one's shoes. Whilst on the south island, I had almost totally forgotten that this was Maori land. So many of the place names in the south were English, nay Scottish, that most of the Maori history there has disappeared. Granted, the Maori tradition was always stronger in the North Island. The Wellington museum is also half-white, half-Maori history. Then it was up the tramway to the top of the botanics for a view out across Wellington. Nice, but I've seen better. What was it that Paul Theroux said? "Travel narrows the mind". The begonia house was nice, and there were some lovely coloured tiles in a pool, so I took a photo of them. Of course, I had to be in the picture as well... Next was the Maritime museum, which was also well done. Lots of hands-on exhibits, as well as the usual boats in glass cases. The best bit was the Captain's cabin ? supreme luxury and order. I want one!
Sunday: During my travels, Newmans bought out Mount Cook busses on the North Island. I, therefore, spend the next twelve hours on a full, uncomfortable, cramped Newmans bus, up to Auckland. Again I only spend a night there before taking the long way round to Pahia. The long way takes us through the Kauri forest on the coast ? an area of extremely dense forest with some very old trees. A few years ago, the biggest Kawi tree dropped a branch, which has since been dated as 1200 years old. Experts think that the tree probably started growing about 4000 years ago. Now that's geriatric!
Pahia, in the Bay of Islands is lovely, the seas crystal clear, and the beaches ideal for sunbathing. Unfortunately, when it rains monsoon-style for 36 hours, Pahia does not look like the tourist brochure. Not that I can complain, 3 bad days of weather in 24 days is excellent, especially as March here is autumn, and during their summer, it was 3 good days in 24! When the sun did come out, I visited Waitangi Treaty House, where us Brits got the Maoris to sign away their livelihoods for vague promises. The Waitangi Treaty was, in the end, never ratified by our Parliament. We are again the oppressors, in New Zealand under false pretences .....
27th March - 1st April
Across the bay from Pahia is the oh-so-terribly British settlement of Russell. Russell; flat calm sea that almost, but just fails to, become a mirror of the clouds above. Little white puffy clouds and dark ominous unhappy clouds fight each other to cover the blue patches above my head. Along the shore there is no movement: crashing waves do not exist; waves do not exist. Strange white pleasure craft remain at their moorings, stationary on the flat sea, their undersides catching the reflected sunlight on the ripples. I look along the deserted beach bathed in sunlight and listen to the utter silence. How far is that headland away? With no waves, and the changing sizes of the moored boats, parallax doesn't seem to work. How far?
How can anything ever happen in this bay, or how can what happens anywhere else in this world affect it? Does the rest of the world exist beyond what I can see? The Victorian wooden buildings with their verandas and oh-so-English gardens speak not of a timeless place, but a moment in time, a place struggling to accept that time moves ever on. And below my feet, 12,000 miles below my feet, and upside-down, are my family and my friends.
I sit and eat a chicken-in-white wine croissant, and cheesecake for morning tea. Small powered craft zip in and out of the pleasure craft, kids jump off a platform into the waters. The waters and sounds ripple out and dissipate into the void. And here I sit with Paul Theroux, in another part of the British Empire, on the railway to Mandalay.
New Zealand, a once proud British colony, with its pioneers and homesteads and Victorian architecture and giant farms is quickly becoming a shadow of its former self. The present government's policy of copying the motherland - the UK - may lead to no bus service, no trains, no rural education, and no rural sector. The larger towns will continue to create their own demand, but for the vast countryside? Even relatively new tourist developments are up for sale, becoming youth hostels and backpackers. Want to buy a hotel? Going cheap! With possums and rabbits destroying the trees and grasslands, and spreading disease, the poor rural economy is in for a tough time. So are the 50,000,000 sheep, when no one wants their wool. Perhaps this country, a country of 3 million people, is trying to hold onto its past colonial standards of living, trying to keep up with big bruv (OZ) and mother (UK). And failing.
Auckland, with time to kill. Well, after Oz, 1 didn't want to get marooned and miss my plane! Auckland, on the Easter weekend. When you are travelling, these holidays are a real pain. Everything shuts, transport is reduced, and all the tourist traps are filled with locals!
Took the jet cat out to the holiday island of Waiheke. Call this a holiday island? It's too big, too cold, not enough beaches, no coral, no unique wildlife, and the water is too cold, on and it isn't called Rottnest! Travel narrows the mind. It also looked like the Isle of Bute. Where's the palm trees??? Took a trip around the Auckland Art Gallery. The old part is very nice. Not the paintings, the building. Very nice.
Ah, Small World. What a funny book, Small World. Here I sit, at Auckland airport, waiting for my flight to Honolulu, Hawaii. And in the book, Persse McGarrigle sits trying to thumb a lift from LAX to Honolulu, Hawaii. Small world!
The plane takes off: - April 1st, 1991 at 7.45pm.
1st April, again
Persse sits on the narrow, crowded strip of beach in front of the Waikiki Sheraton, and tots up the sums on the pale blue American Express counterfoils. Neil also sits on the narrow, crowded strip of beach in front of the Waikiki Sheraton. He does not tot up the sum. He knows, he ain't got no more cash. Everything from here on in is on the credit cards.
So, what is Waikiki like then? 1 arrived at 6am, April 1st (blame the date line), sat in a traffic jam all the way to my luxury penthouse across the road from the Waikiki Sheraton. Who wants to pay $200 a night for the Sheraton when you can have the YHA for $12. ME! ME! ME! Or the Royal Hawaiian, I'm not that fussy! Actually, Waikiki is a bit of a let-down. It is little more than an up-market Benidorm, probably akin to Nice.
The reason for my stop-off? Pearl Harbour, what else! Interesting, making a war memorial into a packaged tour. It sort of makes it a bit difficult to comprehend what occurred on December 7th, 1941. The film show helps, before you venture out to the USS Arizona memorial, where over one thousand sailors lost their lives. As a poignant reminder, a squadron of Tomcats flew in, circled and landed at the military airfield (back from active service in Iraq?).
Waikiki's beaches are indeed narrow, crowded, and not very golden. The water, though fairly clear does have a smell. It took me ages to identify it as chlorine. The hotels along the beach must drain their swimming pools into the sea. I wonder what else?
Here we go, the cheapest bus tour in America. 60 cents got me to the main bus terminal, change bus, and then around the whole of the island of Oahu. 4 hours later I was back, with little to report. It was good to do it, but there we better beaches, clearer views, and the North coast looked just like the Queensland coast, or the west coast of New Zealand's South Island. Let's watch the sun go down. Here, under the Tropic of Cancer, it's over in about 10 minutes, and occurs and the same time every day.
Hanauma Bay is Oahu's little playground. A lovely beach - with palm trees - protected from the ocean rollers by a reef. But it's real magic is the fish. Thousands of fish. Get yourself some snorkel gear from the rental kiosk, and swim with the fishes. Admittedly, they are almost trained, but they're still great fun. Swim with them in 10 feet of water, or even 4 inches. They come right into the shallows to eat out of your hand. Almost, but not quite as good as the Barrier Reef, and the reef itself is nothing to write home about - or even put down here.
8th - l2th April 1991
It's freezing! Only 12 degrees C! That's a 20 degree drop overnight. San Francisco was just that little bit colder than Hawaii. San Fran, as we locals call it, was just a stop off point. Downtown, I boarded a bus to the Monterey coast and Carmel (where Clint Eastwood was mayor).
Monterey, chilly but lovely. I wandered down to the Fisherman's Wharf, and looked around the semi-tacky gift shops. Then I went to the famous Cannery Row (immortalised in John Steinbeck's book). Once the centre for the sardine trade, it has now been gentrified, and designed to attract the tourist. The indoor carousel was amusing, and that circus/fairground music delightful. Then a visit to the Paul Masson wine tasting shop was good. I think I tried almost all of them. A seat looking out over the rocks and ocean was welcome. Whilst munching nachos and cheese, I watched the seals bask and the otters play, the sort of stuff you only read about in fairytales. Aaah! So cute. Reluctantly, I left the Paul Masson shop, and went on to the Aquarium. It was whilst sitting on the TWA 747 from Heathrow that I saw a programme about the aquarium, and its associated film department. That was when I decided to visit Monterey. Nearly six months on, and a good few other aquariums, I arrived to find the best of the bunch! My only fault with it was that their videos weren't available in PAL.
Although it was sunny in Monterey, and they're still having a drought (Conserve Water - Drink Wine), it was cold. And everyone was wearing jackets! I don't even have one to wear! Not since October 17th! I had intended to visit the Hurst Castle at San Simeon, to drive the coast road, and do the scenic 17 mile drive from Monterey to Carmel. Alas money and time won out, and I moved on. Perhaps another time ..... On the bus to Los Angeles, the driver announces "No smoking, no drinking, no marijuana. We all laughed, none more so than the Hispanics, especially when drinking was translated by the driver to "Tequila".
"What do you mean this bus isn't going to stop at Santa Monica?" Yet another bus story. The driver thought he could just tell me anything and I'd accept it. Not going via Santa Monica would save him half an hour. We went via Santa Monica! Victory.
Lets go to the J. Paul Getty Museum.... I followed the instructions to the letter, and waited for the 434. On time, it arrived. Unfortunately I was on the wrong side of the road. It was another hour until the next bus. How was I supposed to know that the bus goes south before turning around and going to the museum! The J. Paul Getty Museum ? Wow! I can take or leave the artefacts, but the building ? Wow. The design, use of materials and atmosphere was idyllic. I want one! As much time was spent in the gardens, or the cafe, as in the exhibits. I splashed out for dinner that night - McDonalds! How is it that McDonalds in the US gives a nutritional breakdown of every food sold, yet the UK arm doesn't? How come a list of ingredients is on the wall for you to read? See the power of public demand!
Here we go, it's kiddies time! Universal Studios! Well, I couldn't go to L.A. and not go to Universal! It was pretty good, even if we know most of the tricks on the tour. In the adventure-land, the best bits were the Wild West, and the Miami Vice spectaculars.
13th-17th April 1991
So, how does one spend one's Saturday evening when in Los Angeles? In true adventurer style ? The Scottish music night! Yes folks, I went to a night of Scottish song in Santa Monica. And yes, I did have an ulterior motive - MONEY! The guest artist was Alex Beaton, who's video I directed just before leaving nearly six months ago. And I was after more work! It failed, but at least I heard the songs of the Auld Country. I must admit it is a bit strange to sit with a bunch of Americans watching folks in fancy dress singing, while on one side of the stage is the Californian Republic flag, and on the other the Stars and Stripes.
Much of Sunday was spent on busses going to and coming back from Long Beach. I intended to visit the Spruce Goose and the Queen Mary. Unfortunately, someone had decided to stage an Indy Grand Prix right in my way. With the usual paths closed, I gave up trying to get to the ship and plane, and opted for the experience of a Grand Prix. You don't see much at a Grand Prix, and as I didn't know which drivers were which, I couldn't follow the races either. Neither could most people as they were in side watching the race on Satellite!
By the way, Venice Beach is nothing spectacular, unless of course you we not a seasoned traveller like me! Just the usual beggars, bikinis and bodybuilders. A pair of roller-bladers went by and I heard one say "Is this good karma or what". Boy, if roller-blading with hundreds of others in the smog of L.A. is "good Karma, then I understand why there we so many shrinks in America! Or is it because you weren't allowed to do anything? A sign on the beach highlighted some 25 things you weren't allowed to do, including change your clothes. At the bottom it said "Enjoy your public beach". How? They've outlawed almost everything! Perhaps I'm just wed to the freedom of Australian beaches.
The most interesting thing about the Los Angeles County Museum of Art was that, out in the courtyard, next to hundreds of people, in a tree 4 feet tall, a Humming Bird had chosen to make its nest. And in plain view, in the tiny nest were three tiny tiny baby birds. And no-one else saw the art and beauty of nature itself. I also visited the La Brea Tar Pits. Okay, so it's an uninspiring name, but for about the last 40,000 years, the wildlife of the area have been falling into this tar, and being preserved. Ever wondered what roamed the land before L.A. was built? I think a few of the beasts still survive to stalk the streets at night....
So, here I sit, at Gate 77 in LAX, whiling away the hours until the flight to San Francisco. It is the 17th April. Exactly 6 months ago to the day I was last in this airport. Instead of Chicken-pox, I have a stinking head cold! What did I do with the intervening six months ( go back to page 1 and start reading)? Funny, sitting here, it's like it never happened. I've been, I've seen, I've sent the postcard. Travel does narrow the mind; the exotic becomes the mundane and the highlights are everyday occurrences. "Oh look, yet another wonderfully stupendous thingy! Next!"
Next? It's Wednesday, so this must be San Francisco again. The rest of the day is spent in my hotel room convalescing.
18th - 22nd April 1991
Venturing out the next day didn't last long before I witnessed a car accident and hung around as a witness. Kind of interesting though... Then it was time for all the touristy things. Rode the trams, went to the wharf area (Monterey wins), Saw the Golden Gate (Forth Road Bridge comes close), did the Maritime museum (Wellington won here). But only San Fran can do what San Fran does best - Earthquakes. I wandered down to the Ferry terminal and the Embarcadero Freeway, or should I say, the bits left standing. This part of the Freeway system wasn't newsworthy on that fateful day, but it was affected. One can still stand on a car park there and step up six inches to the other part. A nice straight break in the Earth's crust. Unfortunately, the fault goes right under the Embarcadero Freeway, so down it comes! It was particularly noteworthy the day I was there because it made the news the night before. The demolition people dropped the top deck onto the lower, and the lower collapsed. The authorities were not amused, though the demolition company say that they were aware of the possibility. All work was stopped.
Chicago, my kind of town! Meeting up with my friend Steve was easy enough, even in the sprawl called O'Hare Airport. No sooner was I in downtown Chicago, in a 17th floor apartment, than it was time to leave, and Party! And what a party it was! Not because it was great fun, but became it was incredibly arty. And I don't mean it was full of Arts faculty people. Apart from the odd movie-maker (Me, Steve, Rick, Lucy), there were a couple of Artists, a Gallery owner, etc etc. There were even real sculptures adorning the walls. And everyone was, not surprisingly, dressed artily - except me. Well, six months as a backpacker doesn't really set you up for this.
No rest for the wicked! Sunday lunch found six of the arty party having a riot in a Polish Deli! Then we laughed our way around some gaudy furniture stores before doing the same in the Art Gallery. Again we ran into the Land of the Free but sorry you can't do that attitude. It was okay to walk around with a stills camera and many other accessories, but to walk wound with a domestic camcorder was just not on! They even allowed flashguns, which are banned almost everywhere.
Time for a dinner party. Seriously, a real dinner party with one of Steve's old friends (though not necessarily a close one). Just the five of us ? how sweet, and strained. Actually, I quite enjoyed myself. But the hosts were, to coin a phrase, a bit corporate. The salmon pate, for example, was "Honey, you've excelled yourself, the best yet love!" And they did everything together as a team, a couple, one unit etc etc etc. They don't have kids, just two cats, and the cats think that their owners are called Mummy and Daddy. When we had left, I said to Steve that they were Dinky's. It would have been Double Income Two Cats, but DITC's doesn't work. I could just picture the conversation at work the following day. "Yes, our Director friend was over for dinner last night, and his Editor girlfriend, and their friend from Scotland. He has just done a tour of the world - he' a Director too. They certainly weren't too pleased when they found out I had lived in Sydney for ten weeks. They spent a whole week there, for their honeymoon.
Monday was spent going round the Lincoln Park Zoo (Abe Lincoln was from this neck of the woods), which is great because it is free. And, as a result, it was packed. A visit to the Chicago Historical Society was very informative, and was basically a smaller, but permanent, Glasgow's Glasgow. A walk along the Mag Mile was interesting, past the Armani shops and Bloomingdale's etc. Johnny Rockets supplied yet more diner-style food, before some okay Baskin Robbins ice-cream. Not content, it was cocktails, 96 floors up the John Hancock Building (about 1000 feet above the Mag Mile). Wow, what a view!
23rd - 29th April 1991
Tuesday was spent pretending to be The Blues Brothers, walking around the Loop, under the elevated railway (called, surprisingly, the El), looking for the places where the film was shot. Some interesting offices, or shapes, in the Loop! Wednesday was spent working! Okay, so it only took an hour. Steve and I went to the Sox ballgame to film the group "Stormy Weather" singing the national anthem. It was quite fun, and the stadium, Comisky Park, was only three weeks old. The footage looked great as well, especially for Hi-8. Bought a mountain bike on Thursday. Okay, I was with Steve when he bought a mountain bike. But I got to ride it around downtown Chicago! And I didn't fall off, nor hit anything. We both suffered the indignity of being passed by a guy on roller-blades, doing about 40 miles an hour.
Friday was Omnimax, the all-around cinema experience, to watch a film called Blue Planet, shot almost entirely from the Space Shuttle. While out cycling on Saturday, we met two guys from the arty-party, also on bikes. One crashed while doing a jump, which was hilarious, and the other crashed when he skidded on some painted concrete. Again we all found it funny! And that, folks, is probably the closest I became to being a tourist. Chicago was different from the rest of my travels, an introduction back, perhaps, to the normal life of work, play, work, play.
And now I sit at O'Hare, waiting to fly to St. Louis, then on to Boston, and then a hop, skip and a jump to Heathrow.
Heathrow to Heathrow in only 195 days.
Post script: In 2002 I managed to go back and revisit parts of this trip. I have therefore now done Kakadu, the Barrier Reef again, Port Douglas, Cape Tribulation, Hearst Castle, and filled in my California coast gap (now done Los Angeles to Vancouver).
© Neil R Jamieson, MA MBA (2001-4)
All text and photographs are original and protected under copyright law