Lawrence Photography

New York Holiday : Day 1

2011-10-28T20:59:00.000-07:00

After a few too many beers at Uncle Vern's house last night, Im now sitting in the 1862 Bar at the airport trying to muscle down a Coopers Clear. Feels like Ive forgotten something - but I guess that is always the way when getting ready to leave the country. Today Im flying from Adelaide to meet Tory in Brisvegas. We will then leave for NY Sunday morning so Tory can run the race of her life in the Big Apple. Im looking forward to the trip with some trepidation as I saw on the weather channel this morning that it snowed this morning and my wardrobe of 'snow' friendly clothes is lean to say the least. Having said that it will be 14º during the week - so Im expecting cold Adelaide winter weather for the whole time. That's doable and besides I think we will be in shoe shops and restaurants most the time - so all good. Speaking of lean of managed to only take 1 body and 2 lenses for this trip as opposed to the 16kg of camera gear I took to Iceland. Oh and my Holga so I can hopefully get some 'art'.

Day 14 : Our full day in Paris

2010-09-03T18:54:00.000-07:00

After a 9hr sleep in Paris, it was time to begin day 2 in this wonderful city. The weather was forecast to be 20º and sunny. After a predictable Parisian hotel breakfast of bread, ham, cheese, yoghurt and croissants we headed on our way. Our first stop was to the shopping mall, Galleries Lafayette. An increasingly sprawling network of old buildings linked together by overhead covered gangways. Each building catering for each requirement. There was the womens fashion, perfumery and fashion séduction (lingerie), mens fashion and ‘David Jones-esque’ food hall and so on. It is an amazing building inside with stain glass windows, vaulted dome ceiling and all the opulence by an bygone era. First stop was the fashion séduction level so Tory could browse for some new sexy undergarments. The selection was to the horizon. Every shape, colour, style and fabric was catered for. The change-rooms even catered for men, with each booth, a comfortable a pink ottoman awaited. Quite the ‘experience’. Some choice numbers were selected, paid for, tax free refund was collected and we made our way to the men’s building. After walking the several levels we were soon convinced that french men dressed like girls and besides that, the size XL did not exist.

Next mission was to find the food market area (Rue Montorgueil) as described in a book that Tory recently finished, ‘Almost French’ and also described in an article I read in the Weekend Australian before our departure. After some very good navigating via the map we found the district and it didn't disappoint. We purchased a selection of cheese from a Frommagerié which included goat, sheep and cow milk variants. Some beautiful ham (Jambon) from little Italian Deli, a Tradtionalé Baguette and 2 punnets of raspberries. All that was left was the champagne. After some extra exploring we found a place that had all the best French in a fridge, chilling down. It seemed ‘right’ to get the Moét as we were in Paris. Lucky for us they sold glasses. We weaved our way around to the Louvre and found a lovely spot on the grass of the Jardin du Carosel (ohmigod - allowed on the grass in Paris?!?!?!!?!?) to sit and enjoy our lunch. A lightheaded champagne-y walk through the gardens, then to the d’Orsay for a look there. We got there just in time for a tour, and after our experience at the Orangerie yesterday where all signage was in french, we thought it would be a good option. The tour took us past only a dozen or so pictures and sculptures, but the basic art history lesson was very interesting.

We then walked through the back streets again, again marveling at just how French the buildings and streetscapes are, before getting to the Musee Rodin. We opted for just a wander around the garden, which this week is free as they are doing some building work in the garden, so it is not as peaceful as it could be.

We tossed up going to the catacombs, in the dying minutes of the day, but decided that after 26 km of walking so far today, our feet had had enough. We caught the metro back home, and rested up for dinner - an afternoon of texts home to Mike (armed with a computer and internet) and to Michelle (for her memory after Mike’s googling skills didn’t quite get where we want) and we asked our concierge to book a table for us at Chez Francoise - the restaurant in the old Air France terminal.

Chez Francoise was the locale for our wrap party over 2 years ago when we were shooting a travel doco. In between the haze of the night I remember it being a cozy, out of the way, French Restaurant. It is downstairs of the old Air France Terminal. Long before school dropouts with towels for hats decided to set light to their shoes and bring down planes, you could actually check-in to your flights in the city, hand over your luggage and then make your way to the airport. The old terminal still houses some car rental offices, but other than that it is mostly empty.

The restaurant was French the whole way, we guessed our menu items (Foie Gras was easy, aubergine with chevre was manageable, De Carnard - Duck and Grilé Bouefe - Grilled Steak), ordered a bottle of wine from Burgandy and enjoyed the atmosphere. We quietly poked fun at the rich upper middle class French types, tanned like buffalo leather and draped in gold and expensive glasses. Clearly several tables of clientele just arriving back from their mediterranean holidays, when in August 30% of French locals disappear on holidays. It was a great romantic 3 course meal and at just under $200 seemed like a perfect way to almost end our holiday of holidays.

Day 13 : Travel to Paris

2010-09-03T17:46:00.000-07:00

An early start for the 5am taxi to the airport, and we get there just before the buses. A quick check in, and some breakfast in “Europe’s Favourite Airport” (still expensive food, rest assured) and we board our plane for Paris. Cannot believe how much carry on luggage people get away with - handbag plus hiking sized rucksack plus IKEA sized shopping bags, on you go, sure you can stow it overhead!

We arrive at CDG (probably Europes least favourite airport) and wait over an hour for the bags to come through. No customs check, no passport check, and no stamps for us from iceland nor france. Bit sad really - probably my next passport will just be a card rather than bothering with pages. And on to the trains.

Charlie was a bit horrified with my approach. I figure - I have to walk for a long way - with my dodgy shoulder I can’t carry much in my right hand for long so the handbag is slung across my body, the big pack is assembled for my back, and the little pack is across my front, koala style. Hands free for train tickets and maps. Perfect. Just not pretty. Chuck had to drag his bag - turns out not only do wheels suck going up or down stairs, they also suck on the footpath. Fearlessly navigating the metro and the streets, we change at Gare du Nord, then pop out at Galleries LaFayette for the walk to our hotel. Through the crowds at 3pm on a monday, trying to get orientated so I know which direction to go in. We get there, and lug our gear the remaining few hundred metres to St Augustin’s hotel.

We walked out towards Place de la Concorde, enjoying the Parisian streets and the glorious autumn weather - 18 degrees and sunny. Lots of places are closed on mondays - we need to remember that for next time :) Jeu de Paume, a photography museum in the Jardin des Tuilleries isn’t open, nor the Orsay, but the Orangerie is - so we went in there to admire Monet’s waterlillies, commissioned especially for the building. They are huge. And beautiful. Our plan for the evening was to get to the Eiffel Tower, so we crossed the river and sat in a little bar, finding out first hand the price difference between not only the ‘terrace’ vs inside, but the tables vs the bar - twice the cost in some instances. Wandering the backstreets, as we get to the Invalides, Charlie spots the old Aerogard Air France - there used to be an Air France terminal, right in the middle of town, where you could check in for your flight, then travel out to the airport and board. Very civilized. He had enjoyed a dinner there on his last (work) visit to Paris, so we decided to try to eat there tomorrow.

According to my trusty Lonely Planet guide, there was a casual bistro on level 1 of the tower. We thought we’d try there. The girl at the information desk laughed at me after I enquired which Pillier to go up, and she asked if I had a booking. Oh well. Trusty guide book also suggested the new restaurant at the Musee de Quai Branly - the museum of the colonies, with the plants all over the outside wall. Not open mondays. We ended up at one of the tourist trap brasseries that are on most corners, in a room filled only with foreigners. Not quite the experience we were after, but the food was nice enough, and the service was good. We walked back to the Eiffle Tower. I had never been up it, so we wanted to do it at night. The line up was 45 mins or so, in the increasingly chill air,and as we made our way up, it got windier and colder. We were the only ones wearing t shirts (bloody Australians) and half the others had parkas on! The view was pretty cool, though.

We crossed the Pont d’Alma, took a pic at Diana’s flame (tomorrow is the 13 year anniversary of her death in this tunnel) and caught the metro home 3 stops.

Day 12 : Reykjavik

2010-09-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

A nice quiet start to our last day in Reykjavik - a sunday morning, nothing would be open before 11 or 12, and we have already done 400km excess on the and are a little worried how much we will get penalised for that. Operation sort out the car is commenced, and the final packup done in the light rain (just like northern scotland, really). We try to follow the guidebook which directs us to the 5 star restaurant at the Hilton, only 2 blocks away, where there is meant to be an amazing sunday brunch. Nope, no longer. So we head into town, searching for a cafe. We settle down in a delightful cafe on the main street (very much like Rundle St with its high end fashion, many cafes and bars and a few tourist shops). The cafe was playing Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra, the timber floors and white painted timber window seats and columns and waitresses in cute aprons. What drew us in, however, was the menu - Charlie opted for a taster plate with Minke Whale steak, garlic lobster, fish stew and dries fish. I opted for the chicken salad - it was promised to be served with lots of vegetables. The plates arrived - a palm sized hunk of whale meat, surprisingly dark in colour (liver coloured, practically) but tasting very much like beef steak, tasty lobster bits, a very fishy white fish stew and dried fish that tasted like fish flavoured coir matting. The chicken salad was a little scary with a mango curry sauce drenching the small chicken pieces on a salad with rockmelon (!)

We walked down to the Reykjavik Museum of Photography in the city library. The exhibition there today was one put on by a man around our age, with photos by his grandfather, up to 60 years ago.

After meeting Agust, our car man, to hand back the car and settle the account (he originally wanted to charge us 600 Euro excess, but we talked it down to 400 Euro - still almost $600) and checked into our hotel room. After freshening up, we spent the afternoon exploring a local sculpture garden (amazingly gothic bronzes by Einar Jonsson) up on the hill near the big big church (looking imposing against the white cloud today), then settled into a bookstore - one of the 12 best in Europe, having an enormous coffee in the cafe, and uploading all the while. Free wifi in nearly every cafe and bar in town.

Dinner was at one of the fancy restaurants in town, and on tonights menu - more local specialities. After seeing all those sheep, we had to try the lamb, and our cab driver on the first day had told us that young horse was the best local meat. SO - the lamb and the foal it was. And they were both excellent, washed down with a french wine.

My favourite bar in Iceland. Very Exceter-esque.

Day 11 : Thingvellir to Reykjavic

2010-09-02T01:21:00.000-07:00

After a cold night at the Thingvellir camp ground we set out on a 8km hike through the fissures and lava fields of the area to explore Iceland’s most important historical region. Thingvellir was the site of Iceland’s first parliament in started in the year 930 AD. The original settlers would travel from all the reaches of Iceland, sometimes up to a 2 week journey to reach the site to discuss and enact new laws, serve justice upon criminals and outlaw people and lay the foundations of the new land. Only small foundations of the original budir (booths) remain. The small stone and turf huts served as shelters for the parliament goers and they acted like stalls at todays music festivals - selling food and drink. There were performers, food vendors and entertainers for the 2 week period each year the parliament sat. As we walked around the area we tried to imagine the original inhabitant viking types in this rugged land of ancient fissures, lava fields and waterfalls. The original amphitheatre was a 30ft high wall of basalt that, over time, had risen from the surrounding landscape at a rate of 2 inches a year.

After our history lesson we headed south towards Reykjavik with a slight detour to a geothermal power plant, Nesjavellir, that provides Reykjavik with hot water and green energy. It was an interesting walk along the gangway that let visitors view the operating plant. Many signboards later we pretty much knew everything there was to know about geothermal. Fact 1: The power plant releases the same amount of CO2 in one year as a coal fired station would in 7 days. Fact 2: The entire Icelandic fishing fleet release the same C02 in 10 days! Clearly a clean energy source that is abundant in Iceland.

After the power plant our mission was to try and capture (in digital film) the elusive Puffin. Our trusty Lonely Planet guide directed us to a rocky cliff outcrop in the south of the country, a nesting and breeding ground of this parrot faced penguin bird. After traveling the ‘white grade’ road for several km our memories of the midway point of our holiday came flooding back. We were in no mood to search too far for this bird, especially this late in the season when they have likely all headed south for the winter. After arriving at the coast, a cursory look for 5 mins produced no gold - only seagulls - so we hopped back in the camper and resumed our original mission, which was to visit the famous Blue Lagoon.

After our experience of the Myvatn Nature Baths our expectations were high. The Blue Lagoon represented the pinnacle of Icelandic Tourism marketing. It was mentioned everywhere - and it is said that 90% of all visitors to Iceland come to experience the soothing mineral laden waters of the lagoon. At $50 person that represents $20M a year for a lava rimmed lagoon, filled with waste water from the nearby power plant, clever and effective marketing. That does simplify the experience somewhat, the setup was second to none. Shower facilities, lockers activated by a bracelet that you wore while in the pool that even had $50 bar credit on it. The credit could be used at the lagoon bar for beers, krushies and even Blue Lagoon cocktails . . . nyuk nyuk.

The waterfall pummeled and massaged your shoulders (the guide book described this as feeling like being massaged by a troll - I laughed at how true this was when I was under it’s thundering flow), silicate mud was abundant and used to create a natural face mask to exfoliate and moisturise your skin. There were steam rooms, a steam cave ‘grotto’, Lagoon bar and café and a fumerole that vented hot steam whilst you floated along the mineral rich waters. For all it’s hype, it wasn’t as good as the cheaper version in the country. It wasn’t as deep or hot as before and the glare from the sunny day, strangely enough, took something from the experience. The rainy cold and misty experience last week was far more otherworldly.

We left at 5.30pm and made our way back to the Reykjavik Camp Ground. Driving on the right hand side of the road, negotiating roundabouts and tricky intersections is coming naturally to me now and I feel practically like a local.

After a rest we headed into the Reykjavik city centre for a sample of the night life. At 11.00pm we felt like we were too early what was reputed as a party town. Nevertheless, we had a couple of beers, ate a famous Icelandic hotdog as described in our guide (from a stall near the harbour where Bill Clinton bought one! It was very tasty, and again, cheap - $9 for 2 hotdogs and 2 drinks) and walked the return 7km journey back to the campsite.

Day 10 : Skogarfoss to the golden circle, via Eyjafjalljokull

2010-08-30T00:04:00.000-07:00

After some early (and cold!!) shots of the waterfall here, we drove around to Seljandsfoss - a beautiful water fall that we are able to walk behind. We realise the best shots would have been last night into the setting sun, but it was not to be. A few hundred metres up the road, we find a waterfall hidden behind a small canyon, then continue up the road to Thorsmork. This is a beautiful area, and the end point of a 30 km hike from Skogar, or the start point for a 4 day hike to Landmannalaugar. We drive along the river flood plain, all covered in ash from this years eruption. The glacier itself is also almost entirely black with ash, but still steaming in places. It is pretty cool to see this famous volcano up close - but interesting to realise that this volcano is so insignificant compared to its neighbours that it is only named for the glacier on top of it - all glaciers are ‘jokull’, and all the big glaciers have at least one volcano underneath - Vatnajokull has 5 active ones. Katla is under Myrdaljokull and is one of the big ones due to go at anytime - it usually follows Eyjafjalljokull by a matter of months, and Hekla nearby is also due to go off around now.

The road to Thorsmork disappeared under the river near the hut and start point of walks, and after consulting the guide book we decided that what was on offer was not worth this deeper and scarier looking river crossing - we did around a dozen anyway, and the last few had been deeper than we liked. The wide flood plain was covered in deep ash, and there were extensive road works in places, obviously repairing damage sustained this year. All the bridges around here are very simple affairs - I guess the Icelandic philosophy is to build the bridge strong enough for the traffic, knowing it will need to be rebuilt after flood or volcano damage, rather than trying to withstand these enormous natural forces.

After making our way back to the Ring Rd, we keep heading west, towards Reykjavic. We stop for some fuel (all $2 per litre - more than at home, but really, petrol in Europe was $2 per litre 15 years ago, so I figure we are doing ok. Then again, it adds $700 to our costs), and Charlie samples a hotdog - a dog wrapped in bacon, with crispy fried onion, raw onion, mustard and tomato sauce. He wanted to get three! Interestingly, our purchase of a yogurt, a drink and the hotdog is only $6.50 - we are starting to think we have had the wool pulled over our eyes - Australia is actually getting really expensive.

Mind you, had we been here 2 years ago, the exchange rate was much worse - $1 is 100 kronur - very easy conversion, but then, $1 was only 50 kronur - petrol would have been $4 per litre. Ouch!! At Selfoss, we turn inland, but get distracted by yet another modern church. This one is the traditional shape, clad in blue tin, with enormous rectangular windows capturing the view and the sunlight. When we stop the car to have a look around, we can hear a woman singing inside - very operatic style. Another magical moment. Continuing on towards Gullfoss, one of the most famous waterfalls in Iceland.

We have perfect weather - sun, big clouds, a rainbow arching through the mist over the falls, and all captured in megapixels. A beautiful setting, with a raging, roiling river disappearing through a narrow canyon below. Next stop is Geysir - the original geysir for which all others are named. Sadly, she doesn’t blow anymore. In the 1950’s, some tourists threw rocks into it, blocking the water flow. It has spouted water a few times since, but only for a time after local earthquakes (we were told yesterday that there are 30 - 100 earthquakes measured in Iceland everyday, but most are smaller than we can feel. Mind you, we both thought we felt one last night). Fortunately, it’s little sister, Strokkur, erupts every 5 - 8 minutes. We watch the steaming water eddy and bubble, before a big blue bulge appears and it erupts, many stories high (I can’t really tell, but it looked to be more than 4 stories). A couple of spouts that we saw were followed quickly by another smaller spout - perhaps house high. A very spectacular little geothermal field.

We then make our way to Thingvellir - one of the most important historical and natural sites in the country. This was the site of the original parliament, in a natural amphitheatre. It is also an area where there are many fissures and cracks, again the result of the these two northern tectonic plates pulling apart. The campsite here is surprisingly barren - no power, but free hot showers and a free washing machine. We are huddled in the laundry room because it is the only place with a powerpoint! And it is warm. With no power, our heating in the van won’t blow for long, so we’ll save that for bed time. We have done 2500km in our car so far, some of the wheels look a bit haggard after some of the terrible roads we have traversed, and our fridge smells evil, but we have had a great time. Tomorrow - a walk around here, and we’ll make our way back towards Reykjavic, the blue lagoon, ready to return the car on sunday.

Strokur Geysir about to blow!

In the shadow of the Eyjafjallajokull, the plain is littered with boulders from past erutptions.

The floodplain under Eyjafjallajokull. Notice the ash still in the foreground.

Steam rising from Eyjafjallajokull. The black areas is actually the Glacier covered in ash.

Day 9 - Skaftafell, Glacier hike, Jokulsarlon boat ride and a drive to Skogar

2010-08-29T11:15:00.001-07:00

After showering (these times 5 minute showers are feeling long now - no need to rush so much!), packing up and moving the car, we joined Glacier Guides for a drive to one of the local glacier tongues for a 7 km hike on the ice. With crampons strapped to our feet, harnesses around our hips (just in case) and orange helmets on our heads (also, just in case), we walked up the glacier, learning about black ice (a volcanic ash layer from past eruptions, it protects the ice so it will melt slower here), the flow of the glacier (it is melting at 10 cm or so per day from the surface, and moves downhill about a metre per day), crevasses (which form where the slope is steeper and the flow is faster, and then close up again where the slope is less steep). Stunning to see.

We were supplied with a ham cheese salad sandwich and an orange fruitbox on the ice, then made our way across the ice before heading back down after a 4 hour tour. (It was funny to just get handed them - no choice, no enquiry as to allergies or preferences. Just some lunch, supplied, as per the brochure.) A short drive to Jokulsarlon for an amphibious boat ride amongst the icebergs. This time, we drove further along the road and over a bridge across Iceland’s shortest river (it is maybe 50m long, from the lagoon to the sea), that had small icebergs in it, and some washed on the black sandy beach.

On the way back to the national park, we pulled over at another glacier, also with a lagoon in front. This one was used for tours earlier in the summer, using Zodiac boats to get across to the ice. Unfortunately, where ever they parked the boats, invariably the icebergs would drift to ice it in, so they had abandoned these tours until next year, when they will have 2 boats that can be moored on 2 different parts of the shore.

After a full day’s turing and exploring it was back to the carpark to pick up the camper and head west to the small town of Skogar where we would camp. On the way we passed through Vik to photograph the famous church high upon a hill in the middle of town. In the last eruption is this area the church was the only building to survive as the floodwater and lava rumbled down the hill. Next stop was Dyrholaey, a small headland along the beach with a large natural arch that rose from the sea flow. Some nice photos of the arch and accompanying lighthouse completed this leg.

We arrived at Skogar after sunset to setup up camp in the shadow of the waterfall, Skogarfoss, nestled at the base of Eyjafjalljokull. Dinner was a simple affair of cup-o-soup and noodles as we listened to the hundreds of sheep in the paddock nearby bleating late into the night. Another long day of hiking, driving and sightseeing. It is now dawning on us that the adventure is very quickly winding up and we will be to home soil in no time.

Moving icebergs with the Zodiac.

Icecave, formed by the flowing meltwater.

Chipping out 'steps' from the glacier.

Samplng the purest water in Iceland. At .5º it was 'fresh'

Sexxy crampons.

The view from our camper.

Day 8 : Kirkjubaejarklaustur to Skaftafell National Park and Jokursarlon

2010-08-29T09:51:00.000-07:00

Probably the easiest day so far on this journey around Iceland. After a late night of clothes washing, photo editing and blog writing we started the morning at a leisurely pace.

The first stop was the Museum at Kirkjubaejarklaustur. A modest place with the obligatory pull up banners and sign boards explaining more volcanic activity in the region. The main attraction we wanted to see was a movie that documented the 1784 eruption that killed 1/5 of Icelands population. 12 cubic kilometres of lava spilled from 2 giant fissures (up to 27km long) over a period of 7 months, destroying the land at first then poisoning the air and ground. 1000’s starved and much of the livestock for eastern Iceland was lost. The clouds of poisonous gas that blocked the sun across Europe was said to have caused more than a million deaths related to starvation in lost crops. If it happened today, flights in the northern hemisphere would be cancelled for up to 18 months and untold lives lost. On average this Volcano wakes every 200 - 500 years, so it could happen in our lifetime.

After seeing this dramatized horror story of local geology it was onto to see the Vatnajokull and Jokulsarlon. It was the first warm sunny day since we arrived and we wanted to make the most of these spectacular locations. The drive to Jokulsarlon took us past the the mountain range that was home to the Vatna Glacier, and Icelands highest peak at 2000m. Permanently blanked in ice and snow, it is also the home of several volcanos. In 1996 a large eruption under the glacier caused melt water to accumulate in a large mountainous lake. The ice finally lifted after 30 days of melting and the water cascaded down the side of the range. It flowed at a rate of 50,000 sqm per second for 48 hrs destroying roads and bridges as the water carried down 3 story building sized blocks of ice and water. The movie we viewed at the visitor centre was just stunning.

At the eastern side of the Glacier is Jokulsarlon. A glacial lagoon that at the bottom of a glacier (as many of the glacial tongues around here have), causing car sized icebergs to clave off in a postcard perfect setting. One of my ‘must see’ destinations it did not disappoint. Eerily silent except for the sound of dripping water as the large bergs melted in the sun. Simply wonderful, that the pictures below can only begin to portray.

We then travelled back to the Skaftafell National Park to set up camp for the afternoon. For the first time in our trip we had time for some rest and an afternoon nanna nap. Waking at 5.30pm we decided to hike the surround hills and check out the local waterfalls. It was a 5.3km hike with beautiful vistas of the flood plains and lava fields below. After some ‘jesus fish’ (postcard) photos of the hero waterfalls and surrounding streams we made out way down to the plain. It was on the descent that we came across ‘Sell’. A 100 year old farm compete with the traditional grass covered roofs that we saw in so many postcards. Under the care of the National Museum it is perfectly restored and gives us a glimpse of how the traditional icelandic villages were like. The roof is made from beams of timber, usually driftwood, covered in slate like rock, then dirt and finally grass covering the entire structure. The buildings are semi buried into the hillside to add more protection from the elements and provide more warmth. A picture perfect setting that wasn’t outlined with the attention it deserved in our guidebook.

A little further downhill, we found a small path into a small forest. There was a lovely pool in a dell, where they would keep the lambs overnight so the ewes could be milked each morning. The forest, such as it was, was pretty - a huge poplar, spruce trees towering above, and birch trees - both silver birch and a smaller, twisted type of birch. There don’t seem to be any extensive forests here, but there are pockets, and tall trees do exist - we are seeing more farms here in the south of the country with rows of trees as wind breaks for their farms.

Curry and Rice for dinner, washed down with Icelandic Vodka and 2 episodes on True Blood ended our day, ready to sleep in our van with a view of the enormous glacier and 5 of its flows.

Day 7 - Middle of nowhere, on the way to Kirkjubaejarklaustur (I spelled it without looking - I’m getting good at this Icelandic ;)

2010-08-28T12:30:00.000-07:00

By 5.00am it was light enough to head off - both of us still feeling very tense and nervous. Nyldalur would have a warden / ranger but would have no fuel. It was 50km away, and petrol from Hrauneyjar was still another 100km after that. We were not going to make it. We tried to be optimistic - when we ran out, someone would come by, and we should be within 30 - 50km of the town by then. We would get help. We decamped quickly, and were on the road at 5.20am. The cloud had lifted, so we were now able to see much further, and the light was brighter. There was very little rain - only patchy, so the stress of the changing wiper speed was removed. 2 hours of lava field, multiple river crossings - including one where Charlie had to test the depth of the glacial melt water to determine if we could cross safely. Off came the shoes, socks, and 2 outer layers of pants. Up rolled the thermal pants, and out he went - I do have photographic evidence. He quickly decided it was ok to pass, and spent a few minutes trying to warm up in the car before we put the car back into low to chug through the torrent. Finally, we rounded a bend and saw Nyldalur! Only 2 more river crossings. We got in there, jubilant and ready to beg for fuel - although they don’t sell it, they must have some, and getting it from the ranger station is surely better than needing to be rescued 40 km down the road. We went into the information hut - there is accommodation here, and germans were preparing their breakfast. No one had seen the ranger - he must be still sleeping. So we had some breakfast ourselves (creamed rice and apricot halves), wandered around, and waited. And waited. And waited. By 9 o’clock, I was getting pretty toe-y. After knocking on the door of the wardens hut on and off for 2 hrs, sitting in the cold, eventually a man asked if he could help us. Hallelujah! He poured a 20L can of diesel into our tank, we handed over our $40 (same price as in the towns here and cheaper than it was in Hrauneyjar) and we were on our way. More lava. More rivers. But this time, no wipers, and a bit of a view, and secure in the knowledge we would get to the next town. This last 100km took only 2.5 hrs - much easier going over all, and when we filled up in Hrauneyjar, we had only 10.5 L to spare - if the warden had given us only 10L as we had asked for, we would have limped in on fumes.

Into the cafe - the fuel cost $105 to fill up, and then we splashed out on lunch. $53 for 2 burgers, 2 cokes and one beer. Oh well, it is what it is. And of course, this cafe / servo had free wifi. Why not? So Charlie was able to upload a couple of these blog postings while I planned the rest of our afternoon.

Next stop - Landmannalaugar. This is a favourite destination for local and foreign travelers - ‘painted’ hills of yellow and red rhyolite, steaming vents, lava fields, lakes. As we got closer to the Landmannalaugar region the landscape started to change dramatically from the barren monochromatic land we had seen 2 days previous. Large hills rose from the desert floor. At first they were made of black sand covered in a spiders web of lichen. As we got nearer the colours changed from black to to rust red and ochre sand. All the geological colours you could imagine with a blanketing of bright green lichen as far as the eye could see. Our photos couldn’t capture the enormity or beauty of the region so we just soaked it in. We stopped at Ljotipollur - a red crater filled with blue water - rich in trout (!). The black and red (from iron ore deposits) steep crater had stripes of green lichen, streaking down the slope. Were scambled down the to waters edge - following what started off looking like a track, but was really a water course with some other boot prints. We kept pulling off the road to take ore pictures to try to capture the colours, but even with the sun poking through the clouds, it couldn’t keep up with the beauty. One hill we stopped on was very soft soil and lichen - I noticed some cracks and peered closer - the entire soft hillside was full (or hollow?) of fissures, and most of the ground we stood on was only inches thick! There were holes I could not see the bottom of, and other fissures that were twice my height in depth. We stepped very very carefully!

At the Landmannalaugar hut, we walked across a lava field - this one had mainly obsidian rocks - shiny black glass like rocks formed when the lava cools very very quickly. With the soft green moss and lichen growing over it, it was a very pretty (and crowded) walk. Over the lava field, we came out into a flat valley, with these painted hills around it - steaming vents dotted these hills, but without the noise and ferocity of Hverir a few days ago. One green mossy hill was completely steaming - we walked up it along the path, feeling the rocks that were perhaps room temperature rather than hot or cold. It would look amazing in winter in the snow - this hill would be green all year round thanks to the central heating :) We spent 5 hours wandering around this region, then headed towards the coast. More stunning vistas, many more river crossings, eventually reaching - wait for it - sealed road!!!!! We headed for the small town of Kirkjubaejarklaustur - again, all farms have their own waterfall from the cliff behind - all postcard perfect. A massive rainbow appeared to touch the road in front of us as we turned off and made camp for the night after another 14 hour day of traveling. $3.50 for a shower, $30 for the nights campsite (hand washing the clothes, then trying to dry them overnight) and we’ll be all ready for tomorrow!

Testing the depth of the glacier melt water. So cold - so painful.

Day 6 : Ice Caves, Glaciers, Volcanoes and The Road to Hell and Beyond and then some.

2010-08-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

The biggest day of driving on this holiday awaited us. We were about to cross the interior From Lake Myvatn down to Nyldalur and through to Landmannalaugar. At over 500km of driving it was going to be quite a day. In Australian terms this isn't much to write home abut. But as we knew the road was rated as ‘white mountain roads’ we were in for a long haul. Our last ‘white’ road was to the Lava Caves at Surtshellir on our first driving day. The 10km road was unforgiving in our camper and when it turned into 25km it almost turned into tears. Add to this, Myvatn was our last chance for fuel for over 450km - Agust our friendly car hire man told us that the Triton should do 400km+ easily. We were playing with fire but wanted to push on.

Our first destination was the Ice Caves at Kverkfjoll. It was a southern detour down to a northern outcrop of the enormous Vatnajokull Glacier of about 125km out of our way but loosely factored in. The road was tough, very tough. Rocky, winding across lava fields, deep black sand and driving, unrelenting rain. According to our guide book the rain was ‘mist driven horizontal by the driving wind’. Either way, it became quite the ordeal with our squeaky out of date windscreen wipers and a road that took us in all directions. The wind and rain came consistently, but our position kept changing, so as well as trying to negotiate a path through the rock, keep a lookout for the road markers so we knew where the ‘road’ was meant to be, shift gears between 1, 2, and 3 and keep adjusting the wipers from each grade of intermittent to consistent - it was stressful. After taking a wrong turn and adding 25 extra km to our journey we made our way to the Ice Caves. It was a box I wanted to tick on our trip. From the photos I’d researched it looked absolutely stunning. The caves are formed by heated water running from under the glacier. The running water turns into a raging river as it exits the glacier. I’d expected caves you could actually explore - but Im guessing we were 4 months too late. It was still a sight to see though. The Vatnakojull Glacier is the world’s largest icecap outside of the poles, covers 10% of Iceland and contains 3000 billion tonnes of ice a-top the mountainous moon like landscape. A hike down to the base of the glacier saw some good pics and then it was back to the car.

Out next stop was Askja Volcano 100km due northwest. Again the driving was tough averaging between 45 - 60kph. We were still in good spirits though and were looking forward to seeing this landmark. Askja caldera is 50 sq km - in 1875, 2 cu km of tephra (volcanic sand and rock) were ejected from the Askja volcano, bits of it landing in continental Europe. Ash from the eruption poisoned much of the cattle here and sparked a wave of emigration to America. After the initial eruption, a magma chamber collapsed creating an 11 sqkm hole 300m below the rim of the original explosion crater. This filled with water, and is now icelands deepest lake at 217m! Askja has erupted as recently in 1961, and is due to go again about now. Along with a few other big ones - it is amazing to realise most of this landscape is so young, and will change again many times in our lifetimes - this years eruption at Eyjafjallajokull was very minor by Icelandic standards and we will see many bigger ones this decade.

As we arrived at Askja it became apparent that it had snowed in only the last day or two. Light now blanketed the black sand and jagged mountain range that formed the volcano. It was stunning - looking like zebra stripes across the land. I was probably excited more for the reason of never experiencing real snow before. We arrived at the car park at 4.00pm, 4 hours past the time we had budgeted for the journey. Un-fazed we dressed in our layers of gloves (including black industrial dish gloves all round!), balaclava, jackets and multiple underlayers and headed onto the frozen wasteland to see the blue lake at the base of the caldera - 4.6km hike across the range. The going was flat, easy and fun. We threw snow balls, trudged in 15inch deep snow (when we found it that deep!) and pondered about the forces that created this landscape. Coming back was hard. As we had entered with a tail wind we then had to deal with it on our faces on our return. The rain was constant and our wet weather gear drenched. The washing up gloves held true so that was a bonus.

It was at this point that that our goal became more real. We had to make 235km across the barren landscape with under a half tank of fuel, wind, 2ºC outside temperature and the ever present rain.

As we left Askja the terrain turned from bad and into a nightmare. We had already driven for 8hrs and only seen 3 cars, so a sense of real danger started to become apparent. On reflection, in local terms, this would be the equivalent of doing the Gunbarrel highway with a Lonely Planet guide and a ‘she’ll be right’ from the Hertz Rental lady. We had no idea of how tough it was going to be. Tory asked about the road from a local, I asked about the river crossings and no-one was fazed or concerned - this was a good road, a trusted track and it seems, a cake walk for anyone with a 4wd. How wrong. How wrong.

The first 20km consisted of massive floodplains that stretched into the horizon. The road turned into a river that we followed, like a salmon heading upstream. The next section was 10km of foot deep black sand. It was rugged and pulled at the steering wheel whilst the ‘mist’ bore down on us. Each section of terrain change I had to re-adjust my calculations for our destination. ‘40kph, 190km to go - 4.5hrs’, 25kph, 165km to go - 6.6hrs’ and so on. As we exited the sand we entered the Lava Field. At 2200 sqkm it was vast and all you could see for hours upon hours. At some points we were going 20 in an hour and less. Wherever I could, I put the clutch in and rolled down hills, kept an eye on the taco and adjusted gears to suit. The fuel gauge was my god and I worshipped it’s existence in between gear changes and wiper speeds.

3hrs in, in my shoulders started to ache from the violent battering. The wheel flew this way and that, as the tires hit jutting stones and brittle lava from either a few generations or an eon ago. The landscape was pure monochrome - black, grey and the white sky, obscuring our view beyond 40m or so and my desire to capture it digitally was taken over with a feeling of survival and a need for safety. Outside the temperature with wind gusts and rain was in the minuses. The light was fading at the same speed as our fuel gauge. A camp named Nyldalur was 90km away and after 2 hrs driving we were still only 35km closer. We decided to pull off the ‘road’ and camp the night. We popped the camper roof dressed in balaclavas, woollen hoods and our ever present gloves, and climbed inside. Dinner was a cup of soup and minimal conversation. We lay our heads down after 13hrs driving and only 390km of travel, taking off only the wet weather gear to try to sleep on the windy, barren ridge.

Our campsite for the night.

Rugged up ready for the snow covered volcano. Fricknn cold - incase you wondered.

Driving the road from hell.

Day 5 : Dettifoss to Myvatn

2010-08-28T11:50:00.000-07:00

What what a day! Apprently, it turns out, that Iceland is . . . . icy! It is now Day 3 of the rainshower that started on the second day we arrived. With brief spells of no rain, and some parts of no side-ways wind - we are certainly feeling the cold of the Almost Arctic Circle.

Leaving the sheltered grounds of the Jokulsargljufur National Park we are on the move towards Dettifoss, Europe’s largest waterfall by volume and her sister Sellfos. Our route was to be a 36km 4wd adventure away from the coast and heading inland. The constant rain had turned some parts of the muddy track into a chain of ponds that erupted as we hit them in our large camper. It was 4wding Iceland style.

Before leaving the campground a road side marker informed us that it was 4ºC outside, combine that with rain and wind and it was probably more like -10ºC.

Clothing update: Today Tory was wearing 3 layers of pants combined with 5 layers of tops, Goretex jacket, beanie and rain hood. I was sporting very fashionable thermal pants, hiking cargo pants covered with the same wet wet weather pants Tory was running. Combined with thermal top, goretex shirt and rain jacket we were set for the worst. Or so we thought.

Leaving early gave us the advantage of having the entire track to ourselves. There is vey little traffic in many parts of Iceland and some time you dont see another car for hours. Arrving at Dettifoss we got the camera gear sorted, put rain jaket on camera and camera bag and ventued in the cold rain towwards the mighty waterfall. Within minutes my possum fur gloves (from a previous triup to NZ) and Tory’s cashmere lined leather gloves (from a previous trip to Venice) were soaked through. So much so that the black dye was running from her pair onto her jacket and staining her fingers a dark grey. The cold on our hands was nothing I’ve experienced before, painful and biting, losing feeling in our fingers, knuckles seizing, skin red*.

We arrived at the waterfall and the noise was deafening, the water seemed to explode from the end of the falls, ejected from the river out over the abyss from the curtain of water, flying forward, before tumbling into the canyon and churning away towards a further 3 waterfalls. It was hard to tell where the rain ended and the spray of the waterfall started. We took some pics and heading back to the car via Sellfoss a smaller waterall but equally imrpssive. Back in the car we sat with the heater on for a few minutes trying to dry ourselves and our gear out. Further 4wding was needed to get back to the main road via a new strech of road base on the way to Myvatn.

The area surrounding Lake Myvatn included several boxes we wanted to tick on this journey. Sites included a geothemal area comlpete with mud pools and sulpher rich steam leaking from every concevable spot on the rust coloured terrain. We got to drive past our first geothermal power station and up to Krafla Volcano which had only got covered in snow 3 days previously! It was my first real experience of snow up close. If only it wasn’t -15º! We wandered around Hvevir - a spectacular otherworldly landscape of steaming fumeroles (big ones sound like planes taking off, blowing constantly), bubbling mud pools (the sulphuric acid in the water dissolves the rocks and sand making mud), and sulphur crusted mud pathways. We also managed to hike up the face of 2 more volcanos with one them taking us high above Lake Myvatn below on a 5km round trip. It was a shame about the wet overcast weather as we couldn’t fully appreciate the view, obscured by cloud from our vantage point 529m above the surrounding land. The third volcano was the most spectacular - a perfect black cone rising from the plain with a perfect crater 1040m across. When we got there, the wind dropped but the low low cloud remained, creating another movie set environment of black caldera and shifting mists. We saw more lava fields, lava columns and lava pretty much on the ground everywhere. The entire region was decimated in 1727 when Krafla erupted over 2 years engulfing most of the region. Pseudocraters that dot the area were formed when lava hit wetlands causing explosions of steam and lava formations at Dimmuborgir (Dimmi and a burger’)were formed when a lake of lava formed a solid crust, then steam vents before collapsing. And to finish off our massive day we ended it the best way possible at the Myvatn Thermal Pools. Taking 10 minutes to strip off the layers, shower and don our bathers we joined other fellow travelers in the steaming mineral rich pools. Between 38ºC and 40Cº with eddies of 50ºC across the surface (ow ow ow!), the water soothed our sore joints. Rich in sulpher and other minerals from deep below the surface the water was a rich aqua blue. Te heat caused steam to rise from the water, combined with the cold rain falling on our heads and the occasional view through the mist of the surrounding mountains it was something else. At $25 a person it was worth every cent.

Our campsite in the local town of Reykhalid (‘Breakaleg’), Bjarg, is on the watersend - a lovely grassy location, and very well equiped. Shower and toilet blocks are unisex, the power supply is strong enough to charge the computer / camera / phone (unlike our last 2 powered campsites), rows of sinks outdoors have hot and cold running water for washing dishes or clothes, although the ‘drying shed’ is literally an open sided shed - no drying going on here in under 3 days!!

* Clothing Side note: After experiencing the biting cold earlier in the day we made our way to the main store in town. It was a supermarket / dvd store / hamburger joint. Our mission was to find some kind of arctic glove so that we could keep on going after soaking our own by 8 am at the waterfalls. Tory’s glove of choice was a combo deal. It comprises of 2 layers: a pair of knitted wool gloves and an outer layer of black industrial dishwashing gloves. She was determined not to get wet and cold like that again!!! My gloves of choice were a pair of Cold Storage gloves - thick rubber palms with a knitted exterior. The kind you would use on world’s deadliest catch or in a freezer unpacking frozen salmon. Both options seemed to work fine. Part 2 to the ensemble included a trip to a Souvenir Shop on route to get some better headwear. Tory picked up a nice fur lined hat with ear warmers and I settled for a full length balaclava. We should be warm now as we head up into the barren interior - we are told Askja crater (tomorrows destination) is covered in snow!

Day 4 : Hvitserkur to Asbyrgi

2010-08-24T05:05:00.000-07:00

Waking at 4.30am, albeit opening our eyes at that time of day after a windy and very cold night, we decided on some early morning photography. Our camp site was chosen based on early Flickr research. This particular place featured a volcanic ‘plug’ that has eroded into the form of an elephant called Hvitserkur. Local legend doesn’t call it an elephant though - it was a troll who was caught by the dawn light and turned to stone. Several shots later along the black sand beach we decided to pack up camp and head on our way. We had some miles to cover today and many things to see, time was of the essence.

Our first major stop was at Godafoss. Legend has it that in 1103AD the Chieftan of the time was to decide the future official religion of Iceland. Christianity was chosen so, he collected all the statues of Pagan gods and tossed them into the falls to signal an end to their old beliefs and embrace their Savior, hence the name Godafoss, ‘Waterfall of the Gods’.

Our journey then took us further north into the high country. At 9.00am a roadside marker read 4ºC. Snow was visible in the mountain tops as we drove past and we even caught a glimpse of an Icelandic Fox (or maybe a mink!) as we drove past. Startled, it examined us we drove on past before retreating up the hill. The high country was spectacular. A massive valley formed by the movement of glaciers eons ago makes the Barossa Valley look very, ‘un-valley like’. much of the landscape in Iceland is very young 0 some parts are only decades old, but this area is very old - 2 million years or so.

The next major milestone of the trip was heading to a remote beach outside of Husavik. Again an image sourced on Flickr paid great dividends. According to the info we had, a rocky outcrop of ancient geological activity was to be found on the outskirts of town. Driving out of Husavik we saw several formations off the cliffs alongside the road and entering into private farmland. We introduced ourselves to a local farmer who was busy mending his fence. Some polite conversation about where we were from gained us access through his 3 gates and onto the rocky peninsula to get the shot we needed. A great result and yet another box ticked on this phitiography addyssey.

We crossed the Kelduhverfi - a wide flat area where the eruptions and earthquakes of 1975/6 and 1984 caused the land to drop several metres, creating a lake between the cracks, fissures and ridges. This is where the mid atlantic ridge meets the Arctic Ocean and demonstrates very clearly that Iceland is being pulled apart by these two major tectonic plates (North American and European plates). It was mindboggling to think that this lake was created naturally in our lifetimes - and that one day a farmer would have his rural land, then next it is submerged, or n now lakefront!

Our final destination was to the Jokulsargljufur National Park. With our camp fees paid and map in hand we drove off along the ‘white’ grade road (4wd track) towards our first stop. The road was muddy, corrugated and wet from rains probably only 10 minutes before our arrival. Arriving at the Vesturdalur carpark in the park grounds we chose a red level grade hike of 5km. What was revealed over the next 2 hrs of hiking was simply spectacular! I rate it amongst the top 3 best natural wonders I’ve experienced. Breathtaking wasn’t enough to describe the vista we experienced as we hiked above the valley floor into the volcanic dunes. Twisted basalt columns of lava waved and weaved before us as we made our way along the path. The pinnacle was the summit of a mtn dune of volcanic gravel, the colour of rust. Looking south from the dune revealed a Tolkein inspired view of twisted, curling lava sculpture, mountain river and lichen covered planes. Simply wonderful. Of course this is iceland, and like the iceland horses we had to (more than a couple of times) position our backs towards the sleeting rain. I think 4 showers (showers being a simple verb to use) hit us on our decent. Each time we stopped, we let our expensive wet weather gear take the beating and continue on our way. More than a couple of times the height of our trek and the weight of my pack caused some vertigo on our way down.

After the hike it was a 10km return trip along the rain beaten track back to our camp site. A hot shower - coin operated and limited to 5 minutes - on a digital counter - was needed first after wild camping last night, a load of washing in a machine that we were told did not clean well, but were charged handsomely for nonetheless and dinner of vegetarian Tikka Masala got the evening underway. I moved into the common room of the campgrounds, to sit on the floor near a powerpoint between the 2 shower rooms, washing machine, drying cupboards, clothes washing sinks and as I type this blog and drink my beer I’m watching 15+ Russian teens, their associated boy friends and guides scurry about cooking their canned meats and low rent soup. A massive day full of every experience - the best day so far and it promises to get better.

Day 3 : Eldborg to Hvitserkur

2010-08-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

With the light disappearing at 11.45pm the night before - it was an early rise at the Horse Farm at Elborg around 5.00am. Already the light was pouring through our camper window, with the sun still seeking it’s way from beyond the surrounding range. We were up and showered and ready to go by 6.45am on the way to Snaefelles Peninsula. Our challenge was to get as far north as we could to take advantage of the larger camper we had before changing over to the smaller Triton version later in the day.

Heading along the southern edge of the peninsula we found several churches along the way. These gorgeous outposts of Christianity in the remote countryside of Iceland. Our first major expedition saw us summiting the large mountain that was home to the Snaefelljokull Glacier. The going was steep and precarious as the relentless winds buffeted our 3 tonne Dodge as we climbed further up. Icelandic sheep with their hooves wedged in between the tuffets of moss and lava were al trying to stay on terra firma. At the furthermost point of safety and sanity we stopped to turn the car around and mark our achievements with a couple of photos. As soon as the latch of the car door clicked the doors swung open with ferocity as the wind clawed at our layers of clothing and whipped our faces red. It was exhilarating, funny and somewhat scary. I wont try to even describe Tory’s efforts in going to the toilet!

The wind was now the punchline to every observation w made on our 500km drive. It was repressive and unstoppable with only the direction changing as we rounded the Peninsula. Sites along the way included a black pebble beach complete with rusted flotsam from a capsized english fishing boat in 1947, 1000s of acres of Lava Fields frozen in time, Icelandic Horses, Waterfalls, more Sheep and glacier scarred mountain ranges that punctured through the barren landscape.

Next was an exploration to the interior on a ‘white’ grade track. The narrow course wound it’s way from the Fjordlands into the countryside to eventually connect back up with Highway 1. Initially looking like a 10km shortcut it turned into a 25km journey on what seemed like a fugged moss covered version of driving through Arkaroola.

We met up with August, our camper man, in Hvammstangi (Ham sandwich), where we waited an hour or so in a cafe / bar and were able to charge the computer a little, and utilise their wifi. An orientation to our new wheels - a Triton L200 ute with a pop top camper on the tray - and we headed north around the Tjornes peninsula, not spotting the elusive puffin nesting grounds, towards Osar, and Hvitserkur rock. We opted to set up camp in the local carpark, to enable a dawn shot of the rock.

Day 2 Land in Reykjavic

2010-08-19T00:58:00.000-07:00

Turns out, Icelandair is a budget airline who charge you for dodgy meals, just like JetStar and Virgin. Would have been handy information to know when we were in Paris, walking past boulangeries, fruit shops, cheese shops and so on. $35 for two wraps, some dry sushi and a water seemed a little steep. CDG airport remains a travellers purgatory - we arrive via train, jump the line at the Icelandair counter as our bags were checked through from Adelaide - all we needed were boarding passes. The guy at the desk did not love us - he gave us seats separated by the aisle! We head towards our gate, foolishishly thinking that we will find somewhere to look at duty free for mum, have a beer for Charlie, and a quiet spot to sit. Nope. Heading to the gate, you need to take off half your clothes to go through security, you the line up at a very small kiosk, but they did serve beer and water and chips. The flight to Reykjavic took off only 40 mins late, and the pain of sitting in aeroplane chairs and having no where to really support your head or straighten your knees started to hit. Land in the north Atlantic never looked so good as at the end of the 3 hr flight! We had landed after a little over 38 hrs of travel (airport to airport). No customs to pass through at the airport voted Europes Best in 2009 (that could be why, given they are not even an EU country - note to other travellers- we were told we could bring in 1L spirits and 12 cans of beer each - no one checked at all, so you could probably stretch that a bit - it is a third of the cost in the supermarkets, but pretty reasonable compared to at home).

Charlie couldn't stand the thought of a bus with more people and many stops, so we hired a taxi for the 40 km drive to Reykjavic. We were quoted $95 - it ended up $121 - most expensive cab ride we have ever taken, but he was a nice guy who gave us some good tips. We arrived at our hotel, again - just said our names and we handed a key - no sign in required. We are on the 5th floor on the fashionable strip in town - lots of boutiques and jewellers and tourist info places and cafes and restaurants. We showered and went for a walk, and decided that in fact, Australia has become an expensive place to live. I know our dollar is doing very well (thank goodness), but one of the fanciest restaurants in town has main courses for $50 - same as us. Most of the tourist places here had mains for $30 - same as every pub in town seems to these days. We decided on an italian restaurant with a set menu - lovely lovely meal, after 2 days of aeroplane food. The glass of wine went to my head very quickly, such that dessert and the bill could hardly come quickly enough - we were tucked up in bed by 8:25, and asleep by 8:26, I think. A very long and somewhat surreal day of 50 hrs.

Tory posing with tired eyes at our La Primavera.

A very large stretched Icelandic Truck. What GFC!

Day 2: Land in Paris

2010-08-19T00:23:00.000-07:00

12hrs and 43mins later we arrive at CDG (Charles De Gaulle). After enjoying the relative comforts of the Exit row on the Singapore leg, we had to endure row 78 Upper Deck of the new A380 on the Paris leg. Cramming our tired chassis into the middle row of a jam packed flight at 11.50pm we made our peace with the flight gods and we were on our way.

5 Movies, 9 meals, 6 TV shows and some inflight magazine reading later (at least it felt that long) we arrived at CDG 40 minutes ahead of schedule at 5.48am Paris time. Clearing customs and negotiating our way through Dr Octogon’s wet dream of a airport that is CDG, we made our way to the train that would take us to gay-Paris.

At 7.50am, Paris wakes slowly. Street sweepers are out, tables and chairs are being arranged on the sidewalk, deliveries being made, girls in high heals and make-up peddaling along the Rue de Rivioli to work.

We walk along the river toward the Musee d’Orsay checking out some sights along the way. Today’s mission is find a French Bakery, practice some of the local dialect and hunt down Tory’s favourite ice cream store. We may even stop at the Notre Dame and enjoy a cold beer in the gardens. Quite a full morning!

After sampling some French baked delicacies we keep on walking towards d’Orsay hoping to beat the crowds and get inside for a quick look at the world’s largest collection of French Impressionism. Of course we turn the bend and 769 japanese and italian tourist had the same idea. We shelve that idea until our return in weeks.

After 1 hour of walking with my 13kg camera pack my thirst levels hit critical, so we duck into a café for an icy cold Heineken and hot chocolate for Tory.

Tory is a great sympathetic fellow traveller with a passion for all things sweet - there is an unwritten code that if I can source a cold beer when needed, then an ice-cream or chocolate purveyor mustn't be far off, or preferably in same building. We have our vices, and ours are almost balanced.

Further towards the Notre Dame we find the holy grail of gelati. Well, kind of. There was no chocolate so we had to settle for Orange Sanguine (Blood Orange) and a scoop of Poire (tasted just like mushed up frozen tinned pears!). Also luckily enough they sell icy cold Heineken. Our purchases complete we went to enjoy in the gardens behind the grand old church and watch the other tourists taking badly composed snaps of their un-interested teenagers. After some cursory shots of our own it was back to the train station for our ride back to the airport.

Day 1 : Adelaide to Singapore

2010-08-17T05:22:00.000-07:00

Wow after 9 months of planning the time has finally arrived, we're off to Iceland!

Departing at 11.50, with a kind drop off from Mr Vern, the first day started as usual - beers at the Coopers Bar. Not before lying to Singapore Airlines about my 13kg carry-on camera bag - swapping the luggage tags with my decoy, we even managed to get an exit row. A good start all round.

After an easy 7 hrs on the plane that consisted of 2 movies, some TV shows and several more beers we have arrived at T3 : Singapore. So that is a 1/3 of our trip done! Only another 23hrs more travelling and we will be in the land of Fire and Ice.

Stay posted for more details as we hit Paris!

Day 9: Sichuan HotPot Tigers and Bears

2009-09-04T21:07:00.000-07:00

Our last day in China, breakfast of dumplings from a street vendor, and into the car for the drive back to Guilin. A visit to Steve’s office, local markets for more colour, noise and smells to assault the senses, then lunch to add injury to the assault - Sichuan hot pot.

Steve had to race off to do something, leaving the two off us hot pot virgins to tackle it alone. It was also early for lunch, so although other patrons were arriving, no one else had any food yet. Along with some lamb, beef, greens and mushrooms, there was a curious looking white food, cut roughly 3 cm square. I popped that in the roiling chili soup, waited a moment or two, pulled it out and ate it. It was tough, chewing and largely flavourless, so assuming it was some sort of fibrous root, I didn’t touch anymore. Thank goodness. An hour later when Steve returned I asked what the white stuff was. He grinned. It is chinese food, he said. What is it? I persisted. Pigs throat. Mmmmm. Add that to the list of the weird and wonderful, chalk it up to experience. The rest of the meal gave us the equivalent exprience opposite to that of a brain freeze. The zinging, tingling, chilli buzz envelopes your nostrils, back of your throat and across your scalp as it is washed down with lashing of beer and softdrink.

The chinese seem a mass of contradictions. The hold beautiful things in high regard, yet commercialise everything they can, adding awful lights, no protection of natural assets. like the caves, the mountains, the rivers. Their built environment around here is awful - they cannot pull down the charming older buildings fast enough to replace them with concrete cubes for houses, with aluminium windows in one standard size and bare concrete floors. The toilets are scary, often using the one toilet cubicle space for all ablutions, and the toilet itself as the only drain. Restaurant and hotel room toilets with a hole in the floor for the loo, the shower over this said hole (don’t step in the wrong pace when the shampoo gets in your eyes) Plus the sink has only a hose running from the plughole to the floor, so your handwashing water spreads over the floor on the way to the toilet hole. Never any loo paper, rarely any soap, never any towel. So one must crouch carefully, not getting anything wet, then rustle around for the pack of tissues in your handbag or poclet to fix yourself up some. We managed to avoid any disasters, but we’re glad to be back to familiar abluting.

After lunch, the Bear and Tiger Mountain Village Park - a local zoo stocking mostly tigers and bears. We saw the first couple of enclosures, and thought that must be it. Nup. There must have been over 300-400 tigers at this place. All lounging in the sun, but one enclosure of young tigers (adolescent) were so close, Charlie even touched one on the paw. So unlike home. None of the enclosures looked as good for the animals as the tiger enclosure at Adelaide Zoo looks, not by a long shot. But the scale!! These guys certainly had more space to roam in. There was also a pride of lions, a few deer, and 3 large enclosures with probably 50 - 70 black bears in each. That was the last experience in mainland China before heading to the airport.

A word on HK airport - it is massive. To depart, we had to catch a train from one end of the airport to another. Even with this, we had to walk miles and miles to get to our gate, and again to get from the gate to customs and baggage collection, and then to get to the right terminal to get our bus to our Kowloon hotel. It makes Sydney look like the old Adelaide airport.

HK, back to the bright lights, bustle, shopping, hawkers, markets, people, food and shopping.

The Sechuan HotPot. It's roiling hotness, a black-red soup of fiery goodness

A man fixes scooters and bikes on the footpath in Guilin.

Within 15 mins he had fixed 3 machines with a deft skill that

would be treasured in other parts.

He just seemed to get shouted at by the clients

he was helping out.

Day 8: Yangshou, Bamboo Rat and Karaoke

2009-09-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

We skirted Yangshuo on our way to see a couple of the local tourist sites. First the Big Banyan tree, a 1400 year old tree. This one with a fence around it so you can’t climb it, although people were still doing lots of touching. We were there by 8.10, but the monkey men were already there, and the crowds were building. After a photo op with Tory and her Simian friends, we were then on to Steve’s cousins house where he has a restaurant on top of a hill in the country side. The hero of the meal was a still living Bamboo rat in his little trap caught whilst we were ballooning. Restaurants in town do not have a license to serve this gopher type animal, so this was a special treat. After photos, we were asked if we wanted to see it killed - 'Noooooo'! We did however, catch a glimpse of the bamboo rat being blowtorchedto de-hair the critter before before being tossed in the wok.

Here the pace slowed down a little (after a whirlwind trip with so much to see and the only down time being in the car through mad traffic on poor roads). Our fearless guide has had our days programmed for 12, 14, even 18 hrs, and has barely left our side). Once witnessing the dispatching of the rat, we relaxed on one of their balcony dining areas, beer and water to hand, and read, listened to the birds and cicadas, or dozed in the balmy breeze. After a spot of fishing on the Li river yielded no reward, just an hour of getting hot and thirsty

Time for lunch!! Bamboo rat, a beef like meat but with so very many small bones, and cooked with large amounts of chili. The feet and tail were used to make a soup, then sour beans for Mr Wu, Rice, Greens, and a treat for Steve - a plate of deep fried Cicadas!! This time, Tory tried the cicadas first, but really, one's enough. Not the taste so much as the knowledge that you have all those legs and antenna in your mouth, getting stuck in your teeth, tickling your throat as they go down. As a rule, in this part of China we could eat very very well, very cheaply. Plain restaurant meals for the 4 of us are only around the 120 - 200 Yuan mark ($20 - $35) with beer included. Meals with more dishes run to 300 Yuan ($50). But delicacies such as Bamboo rat, snake, turtle push the price of the meal up to 600 Yuan, turning a very cheap holiday into an unexpectedly expensive food safari.

We are enjoying our quieter day, with an afternoon of resting and washing, then exploring the tourist town of Yangshuo. We are finally seeing some westerners here, mostly in pairs on backpacking holidays, and the market stall holders are pushier in plying their wares. A treat that had to be sampled was their Green Bean flavoured icecream! It was a dull green color (like overcooked green beans), but had a kind of herbal tea flavour. Not bad, but not gonna replace chocolate icecream on my list of favourites.

We had the local speciality - ‘Beer fish’ for dinner - whole river carp cooked in a beer and tomato sauce. Then it was off for the cultural experience of the local light show - a massive tourist show put on in an amphitheatre by the river. Spotlit mountains (as only the chinese can - they also light them in beautiful colours!), a cast of hundreds and a performance the scale of olympic games opening proportions. Chinese singing can get bit much - sometimes it sounds just like bagpipes - but the show was visually spectacular. The evening was rounded off with a few drinks in a karaoke bar with Steve and one of his employees, in a private room with karaoke up very very loud.

Chinese version of a Hummer - actually very cool!

Tory enjoys a Green Bean Ice-Cream

Mmmm Rat Feet Soup

Mmmm Rat Liver

Mmmm Cicadas - Deep Fried!

Day 8: Early Morning Ballooning

2009-09-04T19:57:00.000-07:00

4.32am. The all too familiar ring tone of our guide Steve rings through the timber hotel room. We ‘awake’ from the torture instrument that the Chinese call a bed. This was the worst so far in this journey. under the sheet it looks like a mattress but it feels like a freight pallet with a mattress material cover. The edges are solid timber and the middle core is probably ply wood or bamboo.

Bags packed, we climb into our vehicle and with eyes half awake we embark on the drive to Yangshuo. In the distance the strobing glow of lighting sillhouettes the karst peaks and I’m beginning to wonder if taking a balloon trip in China was such a good idea.

We arrive at the base of the mountains in Yangshuo as the team are firing up the first canopy. The red burst of flames echo into the valley as the balloon takes shape and slowly rises up. Given a complimentary cap to guard our hair from the heat above, we hop into the basket and say our last prayers to the ‘travel gods’

Lift off! We rise rapidly above the valley floor into the cool tropical air. A few more bursts of from the burner and we achieve altitude. A gentle breeze takes us along a path which roughly follows the river below. Once we are up 2 more balloons have since inflated and are rising up to greet us. The pilot feathers the burners and air vent causing the balloon to bob and weave it’s ways amongst the peaks. At one moment we are 20m from the river snaking its course and then within 15 frames of my camera - several hundred metres into the upper limits of perceived safety.

As the flight continues the early mist starts to clear and reveal the rising sun. Already at 15º to the land below, it glows a hot pink shrouded by a dragon fist of early morning cloud.

This was truly postcard stuff. A decision to try this experience many months ago has paid off. We saw a thatched green escarpment as far as the eye could see. Fruit and rice, vegetables and chinese greens each in their own compartmentalised space at varying stages in their development. Combined with the mountains fading into the distance it was a moment in time. Once the sun was up, it was time for us to get down, chased by 3 ‘ninja’ balloon catchers around small fields of rice, taro, greens, and oranges. After a false start (too close to the only power line, and no wind at low altitudes to move us away), we were caught and brought down for a soft lading. After a 2 km walk we were back to the car, whilst our able pilot and his ninja crew folded up the balloon.

Day 7: Li River to Xing Ping

2009-09-04T19:29:00.000-07:00

Another car trip, this time to the Crown Caves on the Li River. We started with a little train ride to the cave entrance, a boat ride along the river in the cave, and elevator ride up to the top of the cave to enjoy the scenery, and in total, 2 hrs spent underground with an amazingly extensive and commercialised cave system. Fluorescent tubes, coloured lights, funny names, guides using megaphones and no rules about not touching the stalagmites or climbing off the path to cuddle one to make nice picture. Another turtle to give money to and pat, another cheesy photo op. to commemorate your visit . Not like this for national parks and wildlife at home.

We then got on a bamboo raft for the 2.5 hr journey downstream to XingPing, just out of Yangshuo. The hills, karst peaks, are breathtaking, and the river ride was a great way to experience it. Our bamboo raft driver was Steve’s uncle, so we stopped at the village of Loao Cheng Tou for lunch and to visit his Aunt and young cousins. Toilets aside, the cleanliness everywhere has struck us. Everything is clean swept, and this very very basic village was spotless. We saw aunties house, very few belongings, a few pieces of utilitarian furniture, but so house proud. Not forgetting our food safari - our cheapest meal for 4 so far. Dried Little River Fish, Pork and Sour Beans, 2 plates of greens, Duck Egg rice, 4 long necks beer, a couple of soft drinks and bottles of water, all for 130 Yuan - $20.

Markets, old village in Xing Ping
XingPing is Steve’s home town. A mix of the old town and new marketplaces. In the late afternoon he took us to his mountain - a hill he owns just out of town, for us to make nature photograph from the top. This impressive hillside affords a wonderful view of XingPing and the Karst peaks.

It keeps on being 35 degrees, humid and very very still, but this afternoon was the clearest so far. Makes us very excited about the hot air balloon ride planned for tomorrow.

Day 6: Back to Guilin

2009-09-04T19:05:00.000-07:00

A morning stroll through the village afforded more new experiences - a picturesque village with wooden buildings, water lilly ponds, and fresh food markets - freshly butchered meat surrounded by flies. After a walk up a hill for making of natural photograph it was back in the car with the exact same harrowing experience but in reverse. I only wish I had taken photos of the roadworks to illustrate the point. To save my spine I regularly asked the driver to stop for icey cold pijiu. Adfter many rivers, rice paddies and spectacular views we were back in San Jiang for another lunch experience with Steve and his dodgy, stereotype looking business partners. Walking into the now familiar restaurant we walked past a curious bamboo plate balancing on the fish tank, I got in for a closer look. Someone had extracted a bee hive cut it open and jiggling within was about 1000 bee larvae squirming in the their honeycomb confines - complete with Queen bee attending to her babies. Noticing our curiosity we were pounced on asked if we’d like to try. Mmmmm, no thanks. Anywho, food time again - Lamb Hotpot (Lamb Soup), Sour Beans with Chilli, Steamed Catfish, Baby Water Buffalo with greens and garlic.

Our next leg of the journey was from San Jiang back to Guilin. The road improved, but the four 4hr trip was broken by a wander around a small town with a wind rain bridge (there are many in Dong towns), and a visit to the school for a toilet break. It was the worst toilet Tory had seen so far. Eight hip height cubicles with a central trough into which all matter flows. And as this was the end of the summer holidays, not much flow, but plenty of sit around in the sun. Mmmm. The next toilet stop at a petrol station (did we mention the beef we had yesterday? - made for many trips to local toilet facilities) was the second worst - mens and ladies toilets adjoined, such that all had to squat over a central trough, and watch anyone else’s business wash by. Soiled business dispeneries were placed in open bucket next to you. Charlie found it all a bit much.

Dinner was not very appealing that night, back at the restaurant in Guilin, As a treat, Steve had arranged river turtle for us - again, gutted and cleavered; feet, toes, lips, gullet and all, and shell to suck on. I was very brave and tasted it, but really, frogs and turtles remain somewhat slimy even after cooking, when they are served with skin on. Duck soup, wild rabbit hotpot, lipu taro (local root vegetable) with smoked pork belly and greens rounded out the meal. Getting a little tired of picking out bones with every bite - eating more vegies now :) We finished the day with a walk around the night markets - every bit as tacky as night markets anywhere.

Day 5: The Road to the Dongs

2009-09-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

Hiking back down the hill following our tireless Sherpas - god bless their cotton socks. A purchase of some jim jams and some other assorted souvenirs for the offspring we were into the car and a 3 hr drive to San Jiang which is home to the ‘tall Pagoda in all of Guilin’

A pagoda is a traditional ceremonial building and this one in particular was very tall - of which I was too scared to climb to the top. Tory was not and giggled as she passed my sweaty, scared carcass.

Again another feast followed of Wild Pig Skin Soup, Meat with Mushrooms and other assorted veggies and rice. I’m beginning to think our guide believes that I’m an alcoholic because as soon as I sit I have 2 cold long necks to next to me each time. Although Im not complaining yet!

Little did we know that the the following 4 hrs would be some of the worst driving experience I’ve ever had. It makes the drive to Mt Squires in the Simpson Desert feel like a Gelati licking stroll along the parade.

The autonomous government of the day thought it imperative to build a new highway through the mountains for a length of 150km by hand. It seemed that there may have been a workforce of 20 something (females mainly) laying concrete and screeing with whatever odd trowel at their disposal. Whilst this was happening the road eventually became a one lane goat track which accommodated every bus and truck that was decided to venture north or south along it. With no-one ever ever ever ever (and ever) yielding right of way this made for some very harrowing driving by our man Wu. To illustrate this point we saw 2 over turned lorries on the side of the road wing mirror deep in the paddies. Happening only minutes before we arrived.

This drive of course was to visit the Minority Village of the Dong people. Arriving after dark we were treated to the bamboo flute show. A local band in celebration for the Summer harvest. I purchased a bottle of rice wine (empty long neck filled from plastic tub in village square) and sat down with the locals to enjoy some local hospitality. What tasted like warm chardonnay mixed with cheap vodka, it was good juice in its purest form.

Dinner was hand made Sweet and Sour pork made by our guide Steve in his friends cafe kitchen, we were also treated to the bum burning experience of the local delicacy - fried dried beef with local mountain chili. Think of Territory Jerky steeped tabasco and then fried in oil and then topped with rounds of chili, served in chili oil. It had some chili in it. Tasty as buggery and as painful as the next day. Apparently.

Day 4: Rice Terraces and Frogs

2009-08-31T22:47:00.000-07:00

An early morning Bamboo raft ride on Li river to ‘make a nicer natural photograph’. So many locals out and about - swimming, washing clothes, washing bodies or just bobbing along in the current that was very swift in the shallower parts of the river. Those not in the water were exercising on the banks - any old movement seems to go - back bends, arm circles, (looked very much like they were waving, but it seems, they were not). Others played badmington or practiced chi ball.

Long drive out of town, through gradually poorer areas of Guilin, past market gardens, and into the country side - very small landholdings where people grow chickens or ducks, or leafy greens that can be bought at the market on the day they are picked. First stop was Huang Le village, a town recognised by the Guinness book of records for having the most women with long hair, up to 1.8m in length. After enjoying a cultural show, with faux marriage ceremony (apparently, the women pinch you on the bum if they like you), tea with crunchy rice bubbles in it, and demonstration of the long hair, we walked through the timber village and over a precariously swinging bridge back to the car.

More driving up steep, winding roads, an occasional rockslide to skirt, and hairpin bends with no guard rails and a relaxed approach to staying on the right side of the road, we arrived at the car park for Ping An village. For 20 Yuan ($3.50), little sherpa women from the village will load our packs in there baskets and carry them the 45 minute walk up the stony path with rough hewn steps, muttering at us when we pass.

First stop lunch. For lunch we had chicken and rice cooked in the tube of a bamobo stem. And washed down of course with Ying Ping Bing Pijiu (bottle of icey cold beer). After lunch we checked into the hotel in the side of the mountain - of which all the materials had to be carried up on the back of woman in a basket or by donkey.

In the afternoon a leisurely hike through the Li Jiang Rice Terraces was breathtaking - showing us the luminescent staggered vistas for miles into the distance.

Again we are back to eat some more - it seems that this holiday is turning a gastronomic journey of southern china than a health retreat based on the assumed hiking we’d be doing.

Dinner was Wild Mountain Frog (again the animal is cleaved into bite sized chucks) fried with the obligatory wild chilli and garlic. Tory was not too excited to receive the said frogs hopping equipment. As well as frog we had the Chicken Soup and vegetable with egg. After dinner, Tory was treated to an hour long massage whilst I enjoyed many more cold pijiu on the balcony bar overlooking the valley.

Day 3: Guilin and Surrounds

2009-08-31T08:13:00.000-07:00

What a city! A city the size of Adelaide. A city in which we stopped only 3 times in the traffic on the way to the hotel from the airport. A city that does not stop. The traffic doesn’t stop. The locals drive on the side of the road that they want, there are no traffic lights (or very few of them) no one gives way, no one looks before walking across a 5 lane main street and amazingly I saw one one injured, killed or abused! Road rage on Adelaide level simply does not exist here. It is a constant ballet of lawn mower engine powered rickshaws, double decker buses, pedal powered trikes, families on scooters, bikes and pedestrians without a care in the world. Amazing!

First stop Li River Cruise. We got onto a boat full of Chinese Tourists ready to travel down the river and lakes that surround Guilin City. Unbelievably the Chinese people are avid travelers within their own country and are equally delighted with the sights and sounds as we are. After motoring through the chain of lakes and manicured gardens we made our way back to the original mooring upon which we were set upon by several giggling school girls who had never seen westerners before. Very well dressed and polite they asked us, through our guide if they could have their picture taken with us. I only wished now, that we had out picture taken whilst they had theirs. In all it’s splendor, 2 x 6ft + fair haired, fair skinned westerners posing with two 5ft school girls from a far away province on a family holiday. Priceless. Surreal couldn’t cover the feeling of our first day in China.

After our cruise it was onto the Pearl Museum and Silk Factory for the obligatory tours of some of Gulins more famous exports. After an interesting guided tour of the silk worm and their skills - we were ushered into, yet again, another souvenir trap that seemed to extricate Yuan from the westerners pocket in a blink of an eye. Narrowly avoiding a Silk Quilt purchase I made my way to the tea canteen and delighted the locals with a 2 beer can purchase before 12 noon. Not in keeping with Eastern tradition, but necessary on holidays.

The Reed Flute caves were the largest caves I have encountered, lit as only the Chinese can - fluorescent white and blue lights, garish green signs giving rock formations such names as “Looking through window curtains at cloudy mountains”, “bumper harvest of vegetables”, “forest of stone”, “mushroom mountain”. The hour long tour culminating in a visit to several cave tortoises, the oldest being 1000 years old (true!!). He was positioned on a yellow silk throne, blinking myopically, waiting for visitors to wet a 5 Yuan note and adhere it to his granite like shell. At night he gets carried from his throne and placed back in the shallow pool - his home from the past eon.

Lunch was at the Super Guilin Restaurant. On first appearances a cheesy tourist trap but with authentic Guilin food and private rooms we were kings amongst men. Our first dish was Cave Fish (no doubt relieved from his subterranean dwellings during our previous tour). Now with the hero ingredient chosen, we were escorted to a private room, plied with local beer, and brought a sumptuous meal of whole baked fish, sizzling beef, Rice Hot Pot with spare ribs and a saucer of leafy greens. After eating it was back downstairs to inspect the pens for tonight’s banquet. Guinea Pigs? Rabbit? Chicken or Duck? Wild Pheasant, Snake? We selected mountain cobra and the pheasant from the collection of wire cages and boxes. The snake combined with the wings, head and feet of the pheasant were to be made into Dragon phoenix soup for our dinner. Once the serpent was swiftly dispatched by a pair of scissors we were on our way.

The afternoon was spent at Yaoshan Mountain - the tallest in Guillin at 909m. A chairlift ride up, some photos, and a toboggan ride down again - weeeeeeeee! Then an educational visit to the Guilin Government Tea Science and Rsearch Institute for compressed tea, oolong tea and green tea. Very informative :)

Cormorant fishing
Amongst the darkened concrete terraces and seedy stairways we accepted the invitation to view a cormorant fishing trip along the Li River. We hopped onto the ferry with 100 chinese tourists and cruised along side the men and their rafts. Within no time the sizable black birds, necks tied with packing twine had hopped into the water and were under the waves searching for their fishy quarry. Amazingly the water was very clear and with the help from the lanterns attached to the bow of the rafts we could see the cormorants at work. Darting amongst the river pebbles the first bird earned his keep. Back onto the raft the handler grabbed him by the neck flipped him upside and shook loose the fish from his tied throat. A couple quick commands and the bird was back in the water looking for more prey. At the day the birds are relieved from of their garrottes and fed a portion of their catch as a reward.

Once the head has been removed from the snake, it is bled into a tea cup mixed with a pure spirit and presented to the diner.

In this case the diner being me - chickened out and gave the concoction to our hapless guide, Steve to drink.

Day 2: Hong Kong

2009-08-31T08:08:00.000-07:00

Today we venture into Hong Kong City and Kowloon. To give us an excuse the explore the city i have chosen 2 stores that I need to visit before we hit the Chinese mainland tomorrow. The stores are Lomography (lo-fi toy camera boutique) and Tin Cheung (hi-rent Canon retail experience). With pre-programmed iPhone maps we were on our way.

Keeping pace with Tory’s power strides around, in-between and amongst the generally height challenged locals we made our way to the first stop: Lomography. As we walked the cities streets a whole new world opened up to us. Past street vendors, fruit stands,live fish markets and men building skyscrapers with bamboo scaffolding, this city of Hong Kong seemed eons away from the sleepy burbs of Adelaide.

In no time we had made the 1.8km walk from central station to the Lomography Store. But it was closed. It seems that stores in HK don’t open until 11.00. Luckily there was a 7-11 across the road. We purchased some water and an Icey cold beer and sat in the manicured gardens across the way. After slaking our thirst and watching Tai Chi enthusiasts (from now on I refer to them as ninjas) we decided to explore through Bird Nest Street and Herbal Medicine Alley.

On our way to said alleys - we happened upon the a large centre that offered live fish markets and and other delicacies - or from what I could assume given the smell. My mandarin is a little rusty. Once we were inside you would’ve thought it was the set for Tarantinos new ‘Hostel’ offering. But it wasn’t. It was animals of every shape, breed and flavour being diced up into every imaginable serve, cut or purpose. The stand out was a shaved goat that had been essentially drawn and quartered but complete with head, eyes and beard that followed my gaze is a slipped past. On the way out a wire cage of croaking toads caught my camera’s attention - who knows what fate awaits them.

Leaving the markets we made our way to the above mentioned alleys. Piled in boxes, crates and clear tubes was an array of every kinds on mushroom, herb or dried animal once could imagine. Whilst Tory documented our find I went on my way to find the hero shot and there it was. A tomato box of of neatly stacked, tied and skewered flying lizards. Complete with their original metallic colored scales and piercing eyes - I couldn't quite think how you would prepare them - it was possible they were an asian form or medicinal jerky, but didn't try.

Next stop, Kowloon. Our Kowlooon journey across the water was required as I desperately needed a CF card and battery grip for my new rig. Once purchased I asked the camera guy if he knew a place that sold cold beer. He looked at his watch and so did I in unison. And explained that it was far too early. Funny, my watch said 1.10pm - far too late I thought for the first ale of the day. Picking that I was Australian he pointed me to a promenade at the end of the street. Once arrived - I understood his directions and wry smile. It was Australia street, selling cold beers, steak and pizza by the tray full. We pulled up stumps and enjoyed several rounds and some tasty pizza (by asian standards) and left after an hour of air-conditioned comfort.

After a short train journey we arrived at Tung Chung Station I had the taste for more cold beverages. Tory had the taste for more (or some) shopping as I had out-shopped her at this stage. I left Tory to her devices and in 5mins was enjoying a $7 bucket of Hoegarrten at the Novotel Front Bar. Within an hour and with 2 hrs to spare Tory joined me and enjoyed our last moments in HK with a round of berry Daiquiris.

Next Stop China Mainland (Guilin)
A 1hr flight from HK to Guilin seemed easy enough. But the 1.5hrs of customs, bus transfers, customs, baggage checks and swine flu paperwork got our nerves to say the least. It was now 9.30pm and we were finally on our way from Guilin airport to the city. After an hour of some of the worst roads imaginable we arrived at Eva Inn on the banks of the Li River.

Day 1: Arrived in Hong Kong

2009-08-31T07:59:00.000-07:00

We are here! Arriving at the city that truly doesn't sleep - the heat and humidity was instantaneous and ever present on our first adventure. Once through customs, our journey began. With a cursory nod from the taxi service counter attendant - we mistakingly venture on a 5km walk around the airport trying to find our transport to our hotel which was only 3km away. After an hour of searching we found ourselves back at the original counter and realizing the original nod (translated to English) meant stay here and wait for car. Covered in sweat and the patina of international air travel we were on our way.

Arriving at the Novotel Airport we were greeted with a 4 star experience that wasn’t expected. The Novotel, a newly built 23 story luxury hotel awaited in all it’s over the top Asian glory. And attached to it was the largest outlet / shopping mall experience I’ve seen. In it’s 4 level resplendent glory the underground mall wound itself to the Tung Chung Metro line that would deliver us to the city in the morning.

After some great bargain hunting from Columbina, Lafuma, DKNY and KingKow we made our way back to the hotel for dinner and drinks. Dinner was great but let me add here that I had the best Mango Daiquiri ever made - cold, icy and what seemed like a 3 mango punch and the equivalent amount of rum made the start of the trip promising in the very least.

Sydders and Pales

2009-08-22T16:58:00.001-07:00

Ok we've landed in sunny Sydney and apart from a security check on my passport whilst on the plane I'm all good. With only 16 mins to go before we board I thought it apt to enjoy my last Coopers Pale. This in preperation for the next 8 hrs of luke warm chunga (insert Desperado movie quote relating to flat warm beer).
Tory could type some words of wisdom here but alas she was lured away by the sparkle of the Clarins counter.

Until next time,
Charlie

-- Post From My iPhone

First visit to China

2009-08-22T03:24:00.000-07:00

Ive just finished a plate of curry from Taste of Nepal, drinking an imported beer and watching the Ashes final test. It is a typically chilly winters night in Adelaide and my thoughts are already wandering abroad. Im trying to imagine the blast of superheated humidity that engulfes as I step off the plane - but cannot. It's one of those things that instantly takes your breathe away and resets your senses, telling you that your'e not in Kansas anymore (albeit sleepy Adelaide).

Im thinking of the images that I will capture, dreaming of the perfect shot that eludes me everytime. Maybe a shot that comes 3/4 close will do. The search for the shot that will define my trip and try wainfully to encapsulate 13 days of travel into one 5200x3000 pixel frame. But a difference on this trip, may not the pixels, but the emulsion that secures the gold. For my first stop will be the Lomography store on Hong Kong Island to purchase the finest piece of plastic lens goodness that $120AUD can buy. So it may well be, that my hero shot, could be lurking in a black plastic cylinder, traveling across the pacific ready to be bathed by the crew at Duck Pond.

One can never know and that is part of the thrill of travelling abroad. Bags packed, gear checked thrice over and a taste for adventure that is nipping at my heels.

Oh and did I mention this is a holiday - I sometimes forget! Traveling with me this time around isnt a client, not a smoking sound recordist and a not hyperactive cameraman. This time Im traveling with my sweetheart Tory. Tory who can understand most languages in a annoyingly confident fashion but has failed to master Mandarin. So with that being said future blog posts with feature Chinese Steve - our trusty English speaking photography guide. And I can only imagine the future posts concerning this possible piece of hilarity.

Until then, talk soon.
Charlie.