Around the world with a stutter...with Mat Twaddell

Life in black in white

2008-05-28T07:26:00.000-07:00

My last selection of photos from my recent trip are now for your viewing pleasure, just over to your left.

I got the prints back from the developers this morning.

The link is B&W Nepal.

There are a few shots amongst them all that i'm really pleased with. I hope you like them too.

I have one very big panoramic which needs stitching together. If it works i'll add it to the collection soon.

In the meantime, i hope life is keeping you all entertained.

Mat

Getting on outa here...

2008-05-21T15:44:00.000-07:00

I eventually got on that plane with some excitement.
Hanging around New Delhi airport for what felt like a whole day.
Well, in fact it wasn't that far off.
Now i don't know what'll happen to this blog.
I don't know if i have anything to say.
Or what purpose this site can bring in the future.
I'm sure i'll come to some decisions soon.
I know for sure that i want to do some sprucing up of what i've managed to cobble together over the last 9 months or so.
So i'm back in the UK, and how this place changes during my time stuttering around overseas.
The Labour party seem to be in freefall.
The housing market in even more of a freefall.
A Tory becomes London mayor.
An Italian in charge of the national football team.
murder murder murder in the news.
Man Utd clinch the European Champions League a couple of hours ago.
Life continues.
And on and and on and on.
How does one come to a good conclusion of any piece of writing.
If only i could come up with some classic Brett Easton Ellis type of ending.

Anyway...

The journey begins. Or continues?

2008-05-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

He sits at the back of the bus, Carlsberg-sponsored cap pulled low over his eyes, wrapped up in an old ski jacket even though the morning's temperature is pushing the high 20s. Arms crossed he sleeps unconcerned about the rutted roads and vertiginous scenery.

His whispery beard, or perhaps more accurately bum-fluff, gives him a passing resemblance to Ho Chin Min.

Who is he? Sitting at the back, separated from the rest of the Nepalis on board, keeping all the bags company?

Joining me are Gerry, her son Tadgdh, their neighbour Julie and friends Penny and Iain. So in some respects it feels like i'm joining there party, rather than them mine.

This should prove an interesting trip i feel.

At our first night's stay is at a guest house just a short walk from where our bus dropped us off at the start of the round Annapurna trek, we come across the first of a surprising high number of locals with obvious learning difficulties. This chap, helping out his family run the guest house had an ever-present grin on his face. he rather endearingly breaks out in to spontaneous laughter upon seeing you.

Or maybe it was only me that had this affect upon him.

A big smile on his weathered face proves to be one of the jolliest i see upon these travels. He limps about in an archetypal Quasimodo fashion, adorned in his great big lurid green t-shirt and traditional Nepali furry hat.

The man at the back of the bus turns out to be one of the porters. The quietest of the three. It transpires that they will each carry two holdalls , packed full of our respective gear, and they'll also place their own meagre -sized bag on top, and then proceed to carry the approximately 35kg load on their backs, with the main support coming from a rope with some added cushioning against their forehead.

Now i've never used porters for any hiking activity and find all this, well, a little strange. One, handing all my gear over to someone else, leaving me with a relatively small day pack with just my wet weather gear, camera equipment and any other essentials, and secondly, it feels like you have employed servants. As a fairly liberal minded bloke, the thought of perpetuating a servile, hierarchical order on things, weighs heavy on my mind.

The beginning of the walk proves to be a very trying hot and sunny experience.

....actually, balls to this recount.

It was a good walk. Beautiful scenery, great exposure to the land its peoples. Bit of a challenge. Took some nice photos etc etc etc. I imagine any readers out there will have already taken a look at the photos i have posted of the walk, alongside which i include a few lines of explanation.

I could spend hours, days even, writing up a detailed account of the trip, but i'm struggling to see what purpose it serves right now.

I'll jump to the end and skip out two and half weeks...Upon arriving back in to Kathmandu we were greeted by Dawa, the dude who runs the show and who was originally going to be leading the trek, but had stand aside at the last moment. Check out his website. Highly recommended. A great experience was had.

Adventure Thamserku

I shared a very lovely meal with him and his family on my last night. We discussed many topics, be it his friendship with the late Scott Fisher, a renowned expedition leader who lost his life during the Mt. Everest tragedy of May 1996 that claimed the lives of a dozen climbers, has been recounted in great vivid detail Jon Krackaur's 'Into Thin Air' and Anatoli Bukreev's 'Climb' amongst others, or having his youngest son sit with me and me help him with his English vocab. Plus being compared to Harry Potter. Who'd have guessed?!

It was a lovely end to my time in Nepal, a country that is easy to fall in love with.

One of many great deeds Dawa is doing some great work in his home town of Lukla, where he is plowing the profits from his business in to trying to build a new school for the community. A remarkable man.

And one who is tempting me with the prospect of summiting a mountain or two in 2009...Do i take the challenge on to climb Chulu West? I dunno. We shall see. Check out his work, it's of far greater importance than anything i can write here and now in this blog.

is there anybody out there?

2008-05-15T15:20:00.000-07:00

I really should get on and write up my last entry or two.
There's propbably no one out there still looking at this site, as people know i'm back in the UK.
I guess it's more for me now.
Tidy things up and wrap this story for the time being.
I'll get on and do it soon.
before then, i've posted a few more photos up - accessible on the left.
Enjoy.
Hmmm, feels like i'm talking to myself.
So i will
ta ra.

Wish you were here - i can here a live band play the floyed classic from across the street...apt.

2008-05-04T07:11:00.000-07:00

Hello

If you don't already know, i'm back in the land of the living in Kathmandu after a successful trip around the Annapurna region.

I'm pleased to report no injuries, no problams with altitude sickness, everything went pretty smoothly and the whole experience was fantastic.

I've posted a few of my early developed colour snaps over in the left frame - do please have a browse. My black and white films, and my digi shots will have to wait till next week or so...

Annapurna colour snaps...

Some of the shots i'm really pleased about, and will enjoy getting printed up from the negatives - i think the scale of some of the landscape shots will struggle to be comprehended on a little computer screen so you'll have to wait for me to bore you with a photo album or slide show presentation!

Anyway, it's my last full day tommorw, and i guess i need to pack my stuff up for one last time. So i'll write up a log of some of the more interesting aspects of the trek and and final thoughts no doubt when i'm back in the land of the UK.

Really looking forward to catching up with everyone soon,

Mat

Close, but no cigar...

2008-04-12T22:38:00.000-07:00

How do?

Well i'm finally off trekking tomorrow. Looking forward to getting back out in to the fresh air, doing some exercise, visiting some new places, soaking up the cultures and no doubt taking a few picture to bore you all with at some later date.

As it'll mean that i'll be away for about 3 weeks this blog will be going to sleep for a while, and will no doubt be getting updated when i'm back in Britain as i'll then be departing for Heathrow Terminal 5 soon after. I fear the worst about my luggage...

So it's not quite the end of this blog, but it's nearing its conclusion. I hope it has proved of some interest to you at some point in time.

I've certainly enjoyed its freedom of expression.

I've enjoyed welcoming a few of you (if you've made it) in to my mind during the last 8 months.

At times i've had loads to say due to being inundated by multi sensory assaults from far and wide(guaranteed to be found on any Greyhound bus journey), whilst at other times i've been completely lost for words and have been found wanting when it comes to expressing myself and have let the blog drift aimlessly.

I've enjoyed the feedback from everybody - i obviously need the recognition to enable myself to go on! - and have always found it intriguing when i get feedback from people i don't know who have stumbled across the blog by some random means.

The blogs title implied an original desire to communicate in some way (i was then unsure quite how) my trials and tribulations when it came to doing a 9 month trip on my own whilst living with a stutter and how i get on in different places, and maybe outside my comfort zone.

Yes, you can also correctly read 'stutter' to mean something else, me stumbling around the world, and sharing a few of those stories as i went along, which i hope haven't been too dull or self-important.

On the odd occasion i have written a piece about my stutter, struggling with 'fillet-o-fish' and talking on the telephone spring to mind, but on the whole there's not been much about that in my 70+ entries.

Why? Maybe because it has in fact proved less of a hindrance than i imagined. In the USA even i seemed to shed any shyness and happily sparked up conversations with anybody and in some strange way losing my stutter.

At more lonely times i regressed in to myself and probably just didn't talk!

But on the whole i've been fortunate enough to meet and foster some great friendships along the way and it's a great freeling to be accepted for who you are so a little thing like a stutter seems of little importance.

More recent experiences in places like India where i have been stuttering, i get some weird looks and plenty of laughter, but i take it all with a pinch of salt here. The complete lack of personal space and therefore a massive difference in how one expresses themselves makes you accept a whole lot more.

In fact, maybe the emotions involved in analysing and writing about crap stuttering experiences get too much at times, and laying your faults on the line - which i'm usually more than happy to do as i'm a strong advocate of self-deprecation) can get tiring. How often can you tell people that saying, or rather the inability, to say your own surname proves perpetual torture, and then when it comes around to spelling the darn thing...how many 'explosive' sounds are there in one word to tax me?? t d d...

If i ever marry i'll be taking my wife's surname...

But to be honest, i don't write too much about it, as why should i let it get in the way of my life? There are far greater issues i could be having to deal with, rather than a slight speech impediment, and when it comes down to it, it's not that bad, and i'm more than capable of communicating effectively (well i should let the others be the judge of that...) with people. I am what i am.

Anyway, i ramble on.

Photos are far less wordy aren't they?!

blah blah blah blah blah

I hope you've enjoyed the blog and a few of the photos i've shared with you.

If you want to write to me, use my email address:

matthewtwaddell@hotmail.com

I need to go get a few last supplies. Have a lovely rest of April wherever you be, and whatever you may be doing.

And oh yeah, i wrestled with a yeti last night...

Some more photos...

2008-04-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

Hello

Just to say i've put a new photo album up to view in the left frame - a last few from India, mainly McLeod Ganj and Rajasthan, plus a few from my recent rafting trip.

Hope you enjoy them!

mat

Oops

2008-04-10T06:56:00.000-07:00

Just as i was logging in to write this entry and went to wipe my glasses clean on my t-shirt, only tyo be completely surprised whenone half of the frames just went flying out of my hand and flew to the floor.

Well that's a bummer!

Breaking your glasses in two with just a few weeks left and a trek to do.

Hmmmm

My mind is now thinking of what to do with this now...

Anyway, what i was going to say was that today's general election seems to have passed by very peacefuly - here in Kathmandu at least.

I asked one local man when the results are due. He said about 3 weeks. Shows you how lucky we are in Britain to get the results trickling threw within a few hours of the polls closing, and a new government (usually) being announced the next day.

You may recal (but i doubt it) that when i was on Kauai in Hawaii walking the beautiful Kalalau trail on the stunning Na Pali coastline, i mentioned that a journalist and photographer from National Geographic were there too.

Well, the article is now in the latest edition.

Here's a link to the on-line version:

Nat Geographic Na pali coast article

Personally, i think i could have produced such an article no probs...

And also in last week's Time magazine,, the Dalai Lama was on the front - apt timing considering i was just in his home town. It's an article well worth reading too.

A Monks's Struggle

Happy readings,

Mat.

Hmmm, i only have about 1 week's worth of disposable contacts left and prescription sunnies...maybe the gaffer tape will have to come in to play...

Row row row your boat...

2008-04-09T07:16:00.000-07:00

The past week has been spent rafting along 215km of the Sun Koshi river, the put-in point being a few hours east of Kathmandu, and it then mozzied along through terrific mountainous gorges all the way until all of a sudden the ever decreasing height of the mountains dropped to nothing as the great expense of the Nepalese plains spread out in front of us, no doubt winding its way through to the Ganges in India.

The river was pretty flat so the term rafting is used cautiously. It turned out to be more like a weeks canoeing with the refrain of 'paddle forward' still ringing monotonously around my head as i type. If nothing else it proved a good workout for my body and i'm pleased to say that i'm feeling in pretty good health for the first time in a while.

The fellow rafters were a merry munch comprising 3 perma-stoned Canadians who took every opportunity to get high, a couple of Swiss chaps who were about the polar opposite t the aforementioned Canadians, all very proper and serious and bemoaning our inept guide's steering at every possible opportunity, a couple of lovely UK-based Kiwis who both had the misfortune to be bringing along for the ride some really bad tummy troubles. One of them being a pharmacist self-diagnosed guardia. Don't get it if you have a chance to. And then finally a couple from Kodiak Island way over in beautiful Alaska, who, it has to be said, were very sweet, and enjoyed getting high too, with one memorable moment being when Joe came out of his tent one night holding aloft THE largest spliff i, and i think everyone else present, had ever seen. My mind was instantly taken back to Withnail and I.

The rafting itself was pretty relaxing as we gently floated by terraced farms and poor-looking villages. Each night was spent camped on a beach, with me and the Kiwis joining the 4 nepali guides in sleeping under a canvas tarp that was attached to one of the raised rafts. All good fun until one particularly windy night brought the whole lot down at 4 in the morning, with me who had already saught respite right atthe back of the throng, suddenly finding myself on my fours with my fat arse in the air trying the keep the big raft from falling heavily on anyone else.

As it's election time in Nepal, a momentous occasion considering the very turbulant recent political history in this ancient kingdom, what with kidnappings, murders and royal slaughters being orders of the day, we were all, including the guides, a little cautious when setting up camp each night.

Almost instantly an outpouring of interested locals would be found on the beach looking at us. Just standing there. Stock still. Impassive. You'd get back to whatever you were doing, and then you'd look over your shoulder again only to find another group there. In 2s, 3s or 4s. Like the children from the Village of the Damned. Damn spooky.

One night an old guy showed up with his family and just stood around by the cooks - all of the emaciated looking villages waiting for any leftover scraps - and he was wearing a red cap that caught the attention of Cody, one of the young Canadians.

He just had to have it.

He just had to.

It was the emblem of the hammer and sickle that did it for him.

He asked one of the guides if he'd mind asking the gentleman how much he would sell it, or trade it, for.

The guide raised his eyebrows, raised his shoulders and asked anyway. A short sharp reply came back. Negative. Not for sale. He was a local Moaist supporter and the cap was definately not leaving his head.

Don't mess with those Moaists i tell you, unless you want to be kidnapped or beaten up.

We let them continuing to stare.

So the days passed in to one another, all very relaxing with the odd big grade 5 rapid thrown in for good measure - i can't quite get my words around to adequately describe what it feels like to be in the raft and suddenly shot in the air backwards down a rapid and you head towards this big rock wall. Things seem to go very slow and perspectives go all funny, and then suddenly you're back spinning the right the right way wondering how the raft never flipped even though you could see it start to collapse underneath itself, and then you're back on a most docile river...

Anyway, after the monsoons that river would be one hell of thrill ride pretty much all the way along it.

And then yesterday we reached the getting out point which meant the oncoming joys of a 17 hour public bus ride to get back to Kathmandu - in fact an experience worth living for in its own right. Me not getting any sleep on a bus isn't anything new or exciting to tell, but the fact that we had 4 huge pigs roaming about (or rather sat in idleness) in the underdarriage storage is something else.

We were already about an hour setting off when the bus stopped all of about 1 mile away besidfe someone's garden.

People got off the bus. Not much happening. The canadians decided to get high. I just sat and looked out the window as is my want.

And then all of a sudden, an almighty squeeling that puts that hillbilly in Deliverance to shame.

4 grown men come running around one of the sheds chasing a one of the aforementioned pigs who is not best pleased having been woken from his slumber and fearing the worse. It's a truly surreal and jaw dropping experience seeing these men finally grab the pig, and we have no idea what's going to happen to it, when all of a sudden the bus driver opens up the side hatch on my side and the men start to shove a VERY reluctant pig into the dark interior. Boy, it's a struggle alright with the pig putting on a great fight and repelling the men's shoves. Eventually the pig's hooves loose any traction and he goes spilling in to the hold (how on earth there was enough room for one, let alone another, i do not know.

And indeed, three more pigs are slowly caught and brought on board over the coarse of the next hour.

Some of the action was caught on film by some of the other rafters, i was too much in a daze to get my camera out, so i'll try and get my hands on a copy of it. Hilarious.

The bus journey itself contained the usual suspects of dusty little villages, random children from the damned villages just appearing in the middle of the road and battering the bus, numerous engine brakedowns, seing another truck hanging over the edge of the cliffon the outskirts of kathmandu with the driver's door swinging open, but no driver in the seat, getting dropped off miles from anywhere useful and then having to fit 12 people and all the rafting gear into a tiny flatbed truck before collapsing on the hotel room bed thinking of all the things that needed to be done - like priority no.1 having my first wash in a week...

The Return of the Thin White Duke

2008-03-29T08:50:00.000-07:00

It's good to see Buddhist monks in their robes in internet cafes using Skype along with the rest of the world.

I have site analytics for my blog set up - so i can keep tabs on who is, or more importantly, isn't reading this drivel.

None from Eastbourne?!

Who is the Holmfirth visitor? Greetings whoever you may be.

To be honest, i don't push this blog. If people want to read it they're free to. It's a nice little repository for a few of my ramblings and affords a glimpse to some of my photos for those that aren't on Facebook.

During the cold evenings these past couple of days whilst emailing people i've also been on youtube hunting out tunes i've not heard for a long time that have helped to give me a bit of umph whilst i feel pretty lousy.

Here're a few.

Bowie's 'Stay' from Station to Station - what a great guitar solo and thumping bass - and back in the day when he had bad teeth still.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcqpKDKQmgY

I did find another clip on youtube of this song with just THE most amazing dancing footwork by the great man. Truly fantastic. Was as if he was making a theatrical recovery from an ice skating slip up and was trying his hardest to not fall to the ground, and this went on for a good 60 seconds during the intro. There were some other ones with the original guitarist, Earl Slick, who not only sounded like a porn star, actually looked like one too, playing some blistering riffs, but i'll stick with this one...

The Cure with 'Just Like Heaven', 'Pictures of You' and 'Lullaby' - the second band i ever saw live.

A prize for who guesses who the first band was....

The National's 'Slow Show' and 'Karen'.

Anything by Wilco

And a recent recommendation - The Moldy Peaches.

Days in India are numbered

Nepal tomorrow

Just over 1 month till i'm back in the UK - something i'm quite looking forward to actually, even if Chris back in London referred to all the 'hideousness' currently going on.

Feel tired.

Wishing i had some decent energy levels.

Especially as i have a week long raft and a 3 week trek up to the giddy heights of a 5,400m mountain pass.

Nothing like leaving the most exhausting part of the trip till the end when India has worked its exhaustive power on you.

Wondering what to do when i'm back in Britain.

Dreaming of scoring goals at football hitting sixes at cricket and going to sit in solitude on the South Downs and peer out to see and wonder 'what next?'

Vegetable patches

Hanging photos on a wall

But i don't have a wall.

Latitude Festival and Neil Young live in a field in Kent.

Writing

A return to Oz like Dorothy?

I need to sleep before my head falls to rest on this keyboard.

One final thought. When coming out of my guest house tonight i came across a beautiful peaceful candlelit procession around the town by Tibetans, singing a most enchanting chant, rising and falling in volume, entrancing. One man had written on the back of his jumper:

TIME TO GO BACK HOME

I'm starting to really resent the Chinese government's handling of the Tibetan situation this past half century, as well as the other many many ethnic minorities that are quashed inside that huge country.

Give people back their home. It's time they had it back. Freely. Peacefully.

Can i see that happening any time soon?

No chance.

I spent a couple of days in Delhi with a young American who is working in China teaching English and he is still amazed at how most youngsters, say of about 20, just simply do not know that anything of significance happened in Tiananmen Square in 1989. Nothing. They know nothing. Disgusting. Shameful repression of knowledge.

An alternative Tibet

2008-03-27T22:23:00.000-07:00

There's nothing quite as heart warming as waking up to the blissful jolly sound of laughing Tibetan Buddhist monks outside your bedroom window in the morning.

I'm here in McLeod Ganj in Northern India's Himachal Pradesh (Himalayan Province), which serves as the home to the exiled Tibetan government, and his Holiness the Dalai Lama, and the instant sense of calmness as you land here is truly divine.

After leaving Delhi about 3 hours late on the sleeper bus, which proceeded to break down at 4am, followed by eventually get a jeep taxi a few hours later for the remaining 100KM on what must be the the windiest mountainous road i've ever travelled on, proceeding to make everybody on board feel travel sick, and at one point i really did think that we would end up in the bottom of the gorge that fell dramatically down to our left, to eventually arrive here high up in the mountains, after no sleep that night, seemed like a miracle.

Luckily there was room in the Om guesthouse, which has a balcony that surveys the valley below, affording a breathtaking tranquil respite from the previous 4 weeks here in India.

Prayer wheels tinkle in the calm quiet clean air, people are noticably more relaxed, and happier tahn elsewhere, even though there the Tibetan-Chinese situation right now is at a low point and very much in the news, prayer flags flutter in the wind, nightome vigils and processions with candles and chanting occur in the evenings, and Matty is slowly getting back to fitness. Slowly. Sometimes i want nothing more than to just curl up in bed and massage my tummy for about 3 hours and fall in to a deep deep sleep and hope i wake up feeling able to live normally for about 2 hours before needig t collapse again!

Maybe i should go see a Dr...

Anyway, i'mm enjopying wearing a jumper in the mornings and evenings though! The mountain life is obviously good for me.

Right, i'm going to stride out in to the day with a very positive mental attitude and go for a short walk in to the hills. I need some practice...

Goan mishaps

2008-03-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

I'm in Delhi where i've just experienced the most inept, or least incompetant conman, taxi driver yet.

How hard can it be to fing the chuffin Main Bazzaar in the capital city???

He was giving us too much crap stopping to talk to people asking for directions, when he probably just wanted to offload us at some friend's hotel for a hefty commision.

No chance.

I've not sworn often at people on this trip, in fact i can't recall ever, but i was driven to that this evening. My young American co-passenger was having none of the taximan's shenanigans either.

Anyway, i've headed up here after a few days of supposed rest in Goa after my spot of tummy trouble and vomitting in the beautiful city of Udaipur.

So much for rest....my friend Shara got hit an knocked over by a little van, both of us caught new bugs and proceeded to be sick a couple of times, i ventured out on to the Indian roads on a scooter which was a traumatic experience, it was so hot i almost fainted twice, i got 'got' during this past weekend's Colour Festival, i got lost one night on the way home from a restaurant and ended up sleeping at someone elses lodgings, and to finish it all off i got a ridiculous sunburn on my back.

Ayayayayaay.

And i also happened to have a night out with a past winner of the Castaway reality TV show. I have to confess i never saw the show, but the winner is a very engaging Scot, who was holidaying with his stalker. As you do.

Thanks a lot to everyone who has commented on the Rajasthan photos. It's lovely to hear from you all - i'm sorry that it took so many previous photo albums prior to this one to create one that seems so universally liked!

And Dad, you just look over to the left hand side and you'll see a link, under 'My Holiday Snaps' called 'Rajasthan, India'. Easy.

Some Rajasthan photos for your viewing pleasure...

2008-03-17T08:52:00.000-07:00

Hello

I've put up some new photos from Rajasthan which im very happy with - all taken with my trusty film camera as my digi one needs a new battery.

Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=33032&l=a4679&id=627251728

Strangers on a train

2008-03-16T22:43:00.000-07:00

Hello

A quick update as i've not written for a week.

I'm currently in Udaipur, Rajasthan, famous for having the floating Lake Palace hotel that you may well have seen in many pictures.

I'm also feeling like Death warmed up after my first bout losing to Indian hygiene. So excuse me if this blog entry suddenly ends as it means i've probably goone back to my room to curl up in a little ball and wish i was at home with my mummy looking after me, curled up in front of a fire.

urrrgggghhhhh.

The last week in the desert state of Rajasthan has been great fun, travelling along with a host of fellow euopeans, but i am now alone again.

We made it Jaisalmer, stayed in the majestic fort, went for a camel trek, saw the sun set and rise in the desert, and made it to the Brahmin-blue city of Jodhpur.

I should also add that i got married on a train journey.
As you do.

You know what happens.

In Hindi culture if you're accompanying a woman, you have to be either their wife or sister. They just can't comprehend or accept anything else.

SO, before we knew it Elena from Spain and i were exchanging wedding sweets whilst the whole carriage was looking on.

All very surreal, and when i'm more alive, i can make it sound far more funny too, but as i say, i'm not really with it right now.

The kind , full of joviality and an inquisitively intelligent mind, performed this marriage ceremony turned out to be the Rajastanies government's chief civil engineer, responsible for the mighty Indira Ghandi canal

And as personal space and information is not a barrier in this land we were soon taking money, and it transpires that this lovely man travelling in the cheap seats like me, earned about 25,000 Rupees a year, roughly 80 times less than i used to make, back in the day when i had a paid job.

Now to me that doesn't really seem fair at all. Methinks that that gentleman perhaps performed a more neccesary role than i. Providing clean safe, water, a transport route, irrigation and drainage etc for this arid state with a population equal to that of the UK, about 60 million.

hmmmmm

Tickled Pink

2008-03-10T09:29:00.000-07:00

I'm currently writing a few notes down in my journal in a coffee shop, here in Jaipur, in need of a caffeine fix to see me through some twilight photography amongst the hussle and bussle that awaits me out there in the Pink City, and much to my bemausment, George Michael's 'Careless WHisper, followed by Chris de Burgh's 'Lady in Red' croon away on the speaker system.

How odd.

Jaipur has proven to be a mixture of stunning pink architecture, enthralling little alleyways, amazing arts and crafts, elephants on the road, cows having the right to roam their sacred ways, well anywhere, dogs eating shit, yes, litteraly shit, off the pavement, and also a place where your reporter had a hair cut...

I know, i showed no will power in keeping my hair long and not getting it cut till after Nepal. No willpower. Also had a shave at the barbers too.

It was all quite an experience considering the barber couldn't speak any English and he happened to use, well, what looked like to me, pinking shears...

And then out came the razor, but first a long song and dance about lathering my face with shaving cream, which in itself was a performance worth paying for. Then slash slash slash, the closest shave i've ever had in my life.

In the end it turned out alright, and i walked away fronm the Deamon Barbershop of Jaipur with my head still firmly on my shoulders

My time is about to die so i need to finish this asap or i'll lose it, so apologies for a very boring blog entry....

Sorry the boy on the counter is getting very agro with me and i'm getting one of those nasty eye stares that are becoming all too familiar...

See ya,

Mat

Ps - sorry for the bad language in earlier blog entries Dad, and any one else who's offended...

I nearly screamed

2008-03-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

The autorickshaw driver today, turned around, whilst he should have really been looking at the oncoming traffic of elephants and various other roadworthy vehicles, looked at me, and said "Harry Potter"

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Harry bleedin fuckin Potter.

How many times have i been called that.

AAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Even my darling bros tells his friends who i have met along the way that look out for someone who looks like Harry Potter.

Jeez, that was the last thing i expected whilst heading towards an amazing fort in Rajasthan.

Harry Potter.

I dunno.

So he continued to call me Harry for the rest of the day witha big smile on his face, even though he new my name was Matthew.

How my Portugeuse friend next to me laughed.

Grrrrrrr.

Riding in Taxis With Kings

2008-03-07T10:07:00.000-08:00

Aurangabad was a parched, dust bowl of a city. Rubble accumulating at the side of the streets; a place where it's safer to walk on the road with the heaving traffic, rather than on the pavements, as you'll be guaranteed a flatter, smoother, quicker walk.

The heat is oppressive, the colours burnt out of the landscape, river beds sit nakedly exposed to the sun, not a drop of water around, wild boars ravage around any one of the numerous rubbish heaps that may sit beside one of the many tavernas or little kiosks that dot the roadsides.

It's a place where the magical full Indian sun rises above the scorched countryside, offering a glimpse of the potential rich beauty in the land, only to fool you with the noon-time sun, exposing the reality that life here is dirty, touch, and agonising here.

And by the time the sun is enjoying its final hour, it combines with the air pollution to create an ethereal haze over the land, whilst people teen the streets, greeting friends, or piling 10 deep in to an autorickshaw, or idly sitting about with a cup of sweet chai or snacking upon another deep fried treat, it's hinting again at the possibilities of the landscape on offer, taunting you with images of silhouetted palm trees, only to have the heart dashed by the realisation that in the foreground lays a scorched earthy plain, littered with rubbish, whilst families, from infant to grandparent, rummage around the tip, and return to their canvas dwellings that are dotted amongst the filth.

It's a touch place out here in the middle of India; one that smells of sulphur.

The bad egg aroma emitting from the drains that create a grey stream passing through the centre of town. This is no Yellowstone wilderness thermal feature created smell, and assault on the senses, but rather an all too human creation.

It is definitely not a place for asthmatics or anyone with other respiratory issues.

I'm sure i'll still be blowing rubble out of my nose even when i'm 15,000 ft up in the Himalaya next month.

I should say that this is a city of almost 1,000,000. It is no tiny blip on the landscape. But it's definitely a long long way from the sanitised business world you see populating the likes of Mumbai's domestic airport, with everyone with their laptops or blackberry's busily trying to make their next billion dollars. Watch out Forbes Rich List 2009, there'll be more Indian billionaires in that top 10 list i'm sure.

Having said all that about Arangabad, which i'm sure is nothing new in your own perceptions or experience of this ancient land, this part of the huge state of Maharastra affords a great jumping off point for a couple of truly outstanding World Heritage listed cultural sites - the rock cut caves of Ajanta and Ellora, which to put quite simply, are awe inspiring.

Ellora struck a deep emotional impression upon me. It's hard to explain, but there are about 34 temples at Ellora, which have been carved directly out of the rock over the centuries, the first ones being Buddhist, the Hindi and Jain.

The biggest and most ornate of all the caves, is infact more like a stand alone temple, that is still being used for worship today. It involved 3 great big trenches being cut in to the rock escarpment for the master rock cutters to chisel their magic.

I'll try and find a pc one day that'll allow me to upload some photos for you to see what i mean, bu the scale of this one temple is 1.5 times the size of the Acropolis in Greece for those of you who have been there.

Another cave which made me speechless and made me find the nearest pillar to lean against was a Buddhist temple that had a vaulted curved ceiling, looking much like the upturn hull of a boat.

the silvery luminescence emanating within this cave, with a truly resplendent forgiving Buddha holding command at the end of this room was a deeply profound moment.

On a much different level of amazement with what India has to offer was garnered from my return trip from the caves.

Whereas on the outward journey i had successfully managed to board myself on to the correct local bus, i decided to take a shared taxi on the way back. Oh dear.

I'll whittle on about the bus experience another time as this blog entry is way too long already, but the taxi ride i'll end on.

So yeah, i hop in to this shared taxi, with one other lad already on board, and we both stretch out our tired and weary bodies, both fatigued by the bright intense summer sun that is beaming in through the windows. And off we go

And then we stop at a random location on the side of the road and a couple more people hop on board.

I guess the taxi can hold about 5 passengers and then 1 driver, so 6 people.

And then we veer off the main road and wind our way through some isolated settlement which ;leads us eventually to the normal row of bomb blast looking shacks that are used for various commercial enterprises, my favourite being the ubiquitous barber shops with their often gaping hole filled corrugated iron rooves, lucky to have 3 upright walls, whilst having a few immaculate looking barber chairs in the middle of the floor space with some rusty old mirrors pinned to the flaky plaster, occupied by gentlemen making sure their hair is perfectly kept, something they pride themselves on here - every man must use his combat least every 20 minutes it seems - or have their moustache trimmed to perfection.

Anyway, as usual i digress, something that i apologise profusely for.

So yeah, the taxi should have about 6, instead we end up, no lie, with 12 of us in there.

12!

And i know they're all having a good old laugh at me hunched up in the corner, the crazy white Englishman who has someones greatgrandmother perched on his lap, whilst up front, no kidding, there are 4 people, one of whom is sitting where the gear stick and handbrake must be, and another is actually perched upon the drivers seat, necessitating the driver himself to have his head poking out of the door window in order for him to be able to drive the thing.

All this 'whatthefuckhaveigottenmyselfintohere' is all very amusing especially when you see numerous big red public transport buses zoom past you time and time again, laughing at your lack of patience, and using a dodgy taxi instead.

But what will definitely stay with me for a very long time was the mixed nature of the occupants of this little taxi of ours. And one in particular.

With his striking slicked back hair do, in his cool cream-coloured shirt and regulation 1970s polyester flares with magnificent gold-rimmed porn-star stylee dark glasses, this middle aged fella had an all too uncanny ability to evoke the image of a later-day Indian Elvis Presley.

I felt honoured, and not to say a little perplexed, to be in his, and everyone else's company that day.

i do wonder...

2008-03-05T06:20:00.000-08:00

...why they even pretend, by having lines in the middle of the road, to know what they're doing on the roads. what's the point??? just fucking drive and if a great big bloody truck is coming straight at you, then so what??? some mystical power will make sure we survive...

Hiding away in a cave

2008-03-04T04:22:00.000-08:00

...after i'd photographed one of the crushed coke-can holding little human faced langur monkeys that were scurrying around the place, and the guard took me to one side and offered to let me in for half price with a backhander, and we'd arranged a rendezvous to meet in the back room of the museum i was able to fully explore the amazing World Heritage Site listed rock caves on Elephanta Island, about an hours boat ride across the hazy sea from Mumbai (or old Bombay to the uninitiated).

The excavated caves proved to be a real unexpected treat, with amazing shrines carved directly in to the walls, 6m high sculptures of Shiva, with huge columns holding the whole ceiling aloft.

It was a painfully hot sunny day, much like today as i sit here wilting, brain frazzled, struggling to slowly string words together in any sort of coherent fashion, and again i proved a source of great interest and fascination. In fact, one young boy who was sitting next to me for quite some time asked, and i agreed, not knowing why, to have my photo taken with him.

Maybe my mug shot will end up on some dodgy Indian internet site, but he seemed genuinely happy with his new photo.

Maybe he thought i was Brad Pitt with my shockingly big bad 70s hairdo.

But having sad that, i did see in the celebrity news that he's had a new buzz cut for a film role, sp that young lad was obviously confused.

Speaking of film stars, someone asked if i was one yesterday.

Ha!

I have to say my ego was boosted immeasurably

Maybe that's why everyone keeps looking at me so intently, which i'n still finding rather daunting.

You see I was waiting out on the street in the touristy Colaba area, for Shara, a lovely Chicagoan i'd been chatting to in a cafe only slightly earlier. Whilst watching the world go by, i was a stationary target for street hawkers, most of whom were trying to sell me either bongo drums or 2 foot long laminated scroll-type maps of India, neither of which i thought would be particularly practical purchases.

Anyway, as one of these sellers was turning to walk away after he realised i had zero intention to buy anything, he stopped, looked over his shoulder, and asked if i was movie star.

It put a big grin on my face as Shara came around the corner and we set off for a place to eat on my last night in the city by the sea.

On our wanders we happened to stumble across a rather surprising contemporary art gallery in a most unsuspecting area. The artist appeared to have a few issues with restraint and liked images of knives and knotted ropes and enjoyed using large textual excerpts from the poetry of the suicidal Sylvia Plath. All very jolly.

Whilst chatting away Shara came up with some a better analogy for the incessant use if the car horn. Whereas i'd liked the use of it instead of using their brakes, she's decided that they beep their horns every time they breath. I like it. It captures the essence of it down to a t. Non stop. Part of their vital existence.

Ha. I like it.

And another gem i hope she won't mind me sharing, concerns a chat she was having with an Indian lifestyle guru who had been the previous occupant of my chair in the cafe, and no doubt a far more enlightened, and entertaining companion than i.

On discussing one's life journey, and how people often contextualise their experiences and events into chapters, end of one; start of another etc, this wise man said, in an apparent moment of clarity that came to him their in the moment:

"Well, i like to think of one's life as being more than just chapters in a book - i like to think of life as being more rich than that...life should be much more like a library."

Again. I like it.

I soon had to scoot off from this chance meeting with a fellow lover of Wilco, The National and Arcade Fire and rush to catch my sleeper bus. Judging by the lack of soberness that the driver was exhibiting when i arrived, i was not holding out great hopes for this next leg. And so it proved...

A New Day is Dawning

2008-03-01T20:02:00.000-08:00

From my vantage point on the 3rd floor i can see the Saturday morning dawn chorus outside.

This is not the sound, sights and smells of beautiful birdsong, but rather 4 people lying on the road, wrapped up in shawls, i presume sleeping rather than having been left to die.

Men are assembling the days newspapers and sending their delivery people on the way.

So cyclists go by with huge bundles of newspapers balanced precariously on their mud guards, at least 2 feet high, tempting gravity to work its magic.

There is the incessant noise of beeping car horns, the soundtrack to my few hours here in Mumbai so far.

Rubbish does litter the streets.

The magical full sun is peeping higher and higher, ever so serenely, above the rooftops of the buildings over to my East.

What will this first day have in store for me i wonder...

But first, yesterday's ride from the airport to the hotel was one of the most hair-raising experiences of my life.

I guess it took a good 1hr 15mins from start to finish and you really could sense every minute tick by. Was each one going to be my last on Planet Earth?

A young driver who had great trouble trouble starting the motor of his little black and yellow tin-pot cab, one of the ubiquitous 50,000 identical taxis on the roads here in the city - imagine a Fiat from the 1950s.

We were seemingly trying to always squeeze about 3 vehicles into one lane.

Autorickshaws were fighting with us taxis fighting with more middle-class Honda-car-owning drivers fighting with buses fighting with trucks with people sleeping in the back of them fighting with cyclists fighting with lorries piled high with loosely stacked gas bottles all-too-tempting a mass explosion fighting with pedestrians fighting with cows being led against the flow of the traffic....

Welcome to Mumbai.

And we've not even reached the main road from the airport yet.

Still 25km to go.

My arm was resting on the wound-down window but at one stage i was starting to fear for the longevity of said limb, so i brought it inside the cab.

Luckily as it turned out, as about 5 seconds later, a BIG hoot of a horn came from a large filthy diesel spewing red bus as its front wheel came right up against my door.

I was also having delusions of a mad crazy fool rushing up to me as i sat there in stationary traffic, and they'd slice my arm off, and then quickly run away with it in to one of the ass crowds at the side of the road, and go sell it it in one of the markets i was only being teased with glimpses of.

Whether it would have been sold as a replacement limb for one of the needy, or simply sold as meat i was not too sure.

If anyone has been to Mumbai, perhaps you could let me know if it's the norm, but this little taxi had no seat belt.

And it's fairly small.

And an accident waiting to happen never seemed too far away.

I'm not the world's tallest man - 175cm i remember from my Drs check-up before i left the UK - the same height as Jonny Depp i read the other day - i thought we were alike - i digress, digress, digress, as is a weakness o mine - and there was barely enough room for my legs in the front without my knees touching my nose.

I did start begin to start using my left foot to act as a brake as i could see us converging upon two vehicles in front as the driver saw an invisible gap to squeeze through.

After a while of this non-stop action i just decided to let myself go with the flow.

I was not in control and there wasn't much i could do about it.

And i'd always thought the traffic in Rome was a sight to believe, but oh no, come to Mumbai...

...truly truly quite remarkable. Here i am, early evening, sitting on Chowdapatry Beach in Mumbai looking out to sea, in fact, the Indian Ocean, after a day having my eyes continually wide-open, soaking up everything going on around me. Life. All the senses are being played with.

Walking up marine Drive, adjacent to the coast, seeing young courting couples sitting together on the sea wall, some risking holding hands, with the girls in the main wearing stunning vibrant colours, with quite a few wearing weekend best saris by the looks of it, whilst the boys mostly wear more western dress - jeans and a logo T-shirt of some sort.

More intriguing has been the greater number of men holding hands in a purely friendly, non-sexual context, apparently.

I have come to the conclusion that Mumbaians use the car horn instead of brakes.

fact.

At the beach it's fascinating to see yound and old, school kids still in the ir unifroms, grandmothers in their striking saris, all fully clothed, all stepping in to and playing in the shallow waters.

A few of the more risque men have their shirts off, but i hazard to warrant a guess as to how they're received.

It's certainly not like the ex-Portugeuse and Christian state of Goa just down the road which i'm sure has far more flesh on view.

Anyway, this morning i happened to keep on walking south a bit further than i had intended - read, Mat wasn't looking at any map and just kept wandering... - and chanced upon Sassoon Docks, a thriving fishing quay.

hordes of women in bright clothing sat crossed legs on the cold, wet concrete jetty, shelling thousands of prawns, piling them up high, or gutting fish, or collecting water off the quayside, or huddled around a scales weighing out their booty.

It was a magnificently smelly vibrant scene, tricky to capture in a photograph, and in fact i went to shoot (or photograph rather - that sounds less violent) one lady who was carrying a huge weight of shelled seafood in a wicker basket atop her head, but one other lady sitting beside side scales just out of shot, caught my eye, looked deeply in to my soul, and wagged a long bony finger disapprovingly at me.

I put my camera down, and packed it back in to my bag and made my way out of there before i created a scene.

Before i had made this digression south, i had met Ronny, a professional tour guide, whilst i was contentedly sitting on a tree stump beside one of the numerous games of cricket that was tacking place in one of the cricket maidens, not far from my hotel.

I was slightly wary at first by this man, not because of his lurid pink flannel shirt, but rather, well, you're just a little more circumspect over here, wary that a stranger has a duplicious mind and is prepared to trick you in to handing over a small fortune.

It all turned out fine in the end though, as he just warned me about a few essentials.

1. Accept no food off anyone
2. Accept no drink off anyone
3. Accept no serviettes off anyone as they may be smeared in some lotion designed to knock you out.

And there was fourth warning, which i can't remember right now.

I hope it doesn't prove my downfall!!!

Singin' in the rain

2008-02-27T21:52:00.001-08:00

It's my last day down here in Australia, and Sydney is offering up another of its rainstorms.

I'll be leaving the city to all the bright young gay things that are slowly descending upon this fine city in readiness for this weekend's Mardi Gras

There is a veritable multitude of skinny young effeminate looking boys in tight jeans and canvas shoes, with little, tight fitting cotton vests, most white or grey, with just a few plumping for a lurid-coloured T shirt, eyeing each other up as they wonder up and down George Street.

It's all pretty uniform in the main, which proves a little sad.

I hope they're going to let loose their respective individuality this weekend as they parade throughout town.

I'll be a long way away from all that as i depart for Mumbai tomorrow, the world's third most populous city i read, and a place where homosexuality is unlawful i do believe. Don't quote me on that, but i'm pretty sure that is the case.

So yeah, i leave this part of the world with many many fond memories well ingrained within me.

From meeting great new people and acquiring some immense friendships along the way, soaking up some fascinating cultures, getting acquainted to great artists such as Max Dupain, Sidney Nolan and plenty of stunning aboriginal works, coming face to face with crocs, wallabies, snakes, spiders, getting active with some surfing, trekking, swimming, and not forgetting plenty of competitive table-tennis during the monsoons, seeing amazing landscapes like New Zealand's Southern Alps and the majestic Mount Cook, Milford Sound, the divine volcanoes of Tongoriro, and tramping across Northland's spiritual Cape Reinga coastline, to Australia's equally exhilarating Wilson's Promontory, the mountainous beauty of Tasmania's Overland Track, to the ancient rock-art imbued tropical wilderness of Kakadu in the Top End, to catching waves in Queensland and Victoria, and much much more that i can't recall in my already overwhelmed head of mine, this leg of my trip as been full of delights.

Truly unexpected delights.

I'll be back.

For sure.

And not just because i've left all my camping gear in Melbourne as it was getting unnecessary for India.

I love it here.

But next up is a little bit of India and Nepal. So Hinduism, Islam, Jainism and Buddhism is on the cards. Vibrancy, ancient art, temples, camel treks, rafting, life, cricket, Himalaya, ghats, malaria, monkeys, tigers, elephants, deserts and many many more stories all await i'm sure.

Oh boy.

Catch up time

2008-02-25T16:02:00.001-08:00

Yes i am still alive.

As you can see i got Warholed in Brisbane. Really good show it was too. Brisbane gets a lot of stick from tourists, residents, well everybody it transpires, but it seemed an OK place to me too. I also managed to catch the short film festival which made me laugh a lot, especially a Japanese entry vcalled Scab. I'll say no more. Anyway, my artistic thirst was quenched in Brisbane.

I then made a return trip to Melbourne where i managed to catch up with Dale, my fellow traveling companion way back in Alaska, 6 months ago, who has just returned to his home in Melbourne. It was great to catch up with him and share a few stories. He looks really well and is still beeming that huge smile.

And then the following evening i had another catch up rendezvous, but this time with my friends and ex-bosses from Norwich Union days, Steph and Alastair. Again, had another lovely evening putting the world to rights, but on the other side of the planet rather than the gorgeousness of Norfolk. As you do.

And then...i along with some of the Melbourne crew, Al, Stew, Lee and Prani made a pilgrimage to Wilson's Prom national Park, the spiritual southern most tip of the Australian mainland. Not the southern most tip of the whole of Australia as many locals think...they tend to forget about lovely lonely Tasmania across the water.

We all took a leisurely 3 day weekend (yes that's easier for me i know...) from various commitments and one and all seemed refreshed by the invigorating scenary, crashing waves, full moon, varied vegitation, good company (mine excepted i agree...), exercise, and simple pleasure gained from standing on vast windswept beaches looking out to sea and wondering where it all leads to...

For once i forgot my camera, but luckily Alison had hers and i've managed to get a quick sneaky preview of them, and some of the shots are awesome. We got lucky with some beautiful light inbetween rainstorms and sunny breaks in the cloud.

But as proves inevitable on this trip, if new great friendships are formed, they only have to be broken again by the passage of ones journey. So to all my freinds in Melbourne a HUGE thanks for making me feel so welcomed in to your lives, it has been a pleasure. I'm sure we'll meet again sometime soon. Prani especially knows what a star she has been, so again a massive thanks.

And then in a flash i landed in Sydney on the same day and managed to see the mighty QE2 docked in the gorgeous harbour for a few hours before it set sail for its very last journey from this port...

More soon...

I have some photos on the left too...

Andy Warhol, silver screen, can hang him on my wall

2008-02-17T17:22:00.000-08:00

I'm in Brisbane just about to go see the Andy Warhol retrospective, and i can't get that line from the Bowie song 'Andy Warhol' (on Hunky Dory, my first ever LP that i owned - i remember Phil going in to town with my money to purchase that one for me when i must have been the grand old age of 11) out of my head

My first insight into Brisbane, was perhaps the foulest mouthed man i've ever met - the taxi driver from the bus station.

"What the fuck you wanna go to India for? That shithole fucking mess of a country. Those bloody brown bastards. Fuck that."

Turns out he's a bit of cricket fan and has aquired quite a hang up about our friends on the Indian sub-continent.

Some Ozzie friiends have commented on my general lack of the use of the word 'fuck' in my spoken vocab. Apologies!

If they want me to aspire to become as linguistically talented as Brisbane's Taxi Driver here, then they can just bloody well fuck off i tell you...

Anyway, back to business. After the steamy tropics of rain-soaked Darwin i headed east and south to Noosa, on the Sunshine Coast just a few hours north of Brisbane.

I chose a great time to have a wee beach holiday, as a devestaing monsoon swept on to plague the east coast causing widespread havoc whilst i was there. Actually, it was quite nice to be sitting on the varanda of Halse Lodge YHA having a read as the rain came plummeting down.

Eventually the sun came out to play and i got down to the lovely beach where i had my first taste of surfing which i loved. Great stuff. I also caught up with some friends of my brother Phil's who happened to be in town on holiday themselves. Dave, Emily and I had a fun day body boarding, eating ice cream, having a cycle ride and discussing sex changes. As you do when you meet with strangers.

I also managed a trip out to Fraser Island, the world's largest sand island - something ridiculous like 140km long or something.

A variety of kite's and sea eagles soared above us in the sky, coral spores created crazy metre deep foam marangues that our 4x4 truck was keen to avoid as we raced up the beach, wonderfully old kauri and scribbly gum trees decked out the surprisingly dense rain forest on the island - mad to think when there is no top soil or rock on the island - and a real treat was coming across a King Fern that is 2,500 years old also. Amazing.

What added to this sense of awe and wonder was the stillness of the place.

The creek where this fern lived, was amazingly quiet. And the reason for this is the total lack of aggregate in the waterway - no rocks, no nothing - for the water to create friction off, and therefore no sound is produced. Just the clearest, freshest water you'll see flowing down to the sea, in blissful silence.

OK, this PC is about to log me off so i better save this nonsense and publish it...

Things i have read

2008-02-10T19:19:00.001-08:00

Jon asked me how many books i have read now on this trip, after seeing some of the facebook snaps of what i'm reading and where i'm reading it.

Well, to quell his excitement and anticipation, i have created a list over in the left frame of all the books i have indeed read so far.

It's actually quite interesting for me to recall what i read and why i read it. I try to read something by a local author, which often works (like here in Oz where i'm on my 3rd Ozzie author of the month), but sometimes i just happen to to swap a book for whatever is available on a random shelf - like when i read Charles Bukowski's semi-autobiographical account of being beaten by his father and his humorous observations of being an ugly brute of a teenager in Depression era Los Angeles whilst i tramped across the South West of New Zealand...

On the whole, they've all been fantastic reads. No duds as far as i can recall and some real gems too...

The tide is high

2008-02-10T18:01:00.000-08:00

The cane toads chirrup away as the biblical proportioned deluge continues.

Darwin is receiving its fair share of rain, making up for the paucity of the wet stuff during the majority of my week's stay up here in the Top End of Australia's Northern Territory - a tropical landscape just a few miles away from the likes of East Timor and Indonesia.

Speaking of which I see that that president of East Timor was shot this morning and is being rushed to a Darwin hospital right now.

Litchfield National Park was packed with wonderful termite mounds - magnetic ones face East/West (i think) to maximise the thermo control - technology that has in fact gone on to influence many a modern building, one many of you will know, Norman Foster's Guerkin in London.

Speaking of which reminds me of Jude's funny story about a Kiwi architect friend of hers who had the good fortune to be meeting old Norm in a meeting one day at his magnificently situated and designed office, and decided for her opening pleasantry, to comment upon his remarkable big deck outside.

Guess you gotta fully appreciate the Kiwi accent to understand that clanger and the awkward silence that followed...

Anyway, moving on. Where was I?

Yeah, Litchfield. Termite mounds. Magnetic ones standing proud in an open field like a mass grave, whilst the cathedral mounds loom over us up to 6m tall.

Darwin was attacked in World War 2 pretty heavily by the Japanese - in fact Australia drew up secret plans to surrender if the worse happened, drawing a line across the mammoth land mass, keeping hold of the more populated and developed South East portion of New South Wales and Victoria etc for themselves, whilst handing over the rest to their invaders. It never came to that, but it's a crazy thaught to think about...

Anyway, the link i was slowly getting to, was the fact that termite mounds were actually used, by felling them and then compacting them to create the military runways that are still in evidence scattered about the land.

A bit strange to see amidst the timeless beauty of Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks with their 20,000 year old rock art, mystical aboriginal storytelling, vast wetlands, pre-historic crocodiles, snakes, spiders, emus wallabees, lizards, thunderous waterfalls, plentiful rock-holes, the modern-day white-man imprints of overgrown military runways and uranium mining still in full swing.

Bleed the land dry.

Which reminds me that i watched There Will Be Blood the other night to cool off in some aircon, where Daniel Day Lewis is simply phenomenal in the main role. Such an engaging, commanding performance. Good film too.

I also caught No Country For Old Men, and Javier Badem's hair is still giving me nightmares. I'm now grateful that when the police pulled me over for speeding in the middle of the great nowhere, and i mistakenly stepped out the car without being asked to, nothing as terminal happend to me as one unfortunate fella in this film. Ouch...

It is in fact my last day up here in the north before i fly east towards the sunshine coast and Noosa in particular.

I realise that i didn't mention a final highlight of Tasmania - still a bit mind boggling that that rugged landscape with it's mountain ranges and picture-postcard beaches and chilly nights, is part of the same country that i'm in right now, a couple of time zones away and where the year's lowest temperature has been about 22C, and where the norm for the past week has been 35C with EXTREME humidty, a land where there seems little point in washing yourself as you're more than likely to begin dripping with sweat as soon as you step outside - which was a trip to Port Arthur penal colony.

Some of you may know about the history there, but if not, what remains is a vast array of buildings that made up the prison grounds for the baddest of baddest of crims that we Brits shipped over way back when. A fascinating piece of history, and if you're at all interested i'd recommend reading Matthew Kneale's Whitbred prize winning novel of a few years back 'English Passengers' or Robert Hughes' history of Australia's creation as a penal colony by the brits, 'The Fatal Shore'.

Photos of which, along with some of the Top End can be seen via the usual links on the left hand side...

Sitting on the dock of the bay

2008-01-29T16:17:00.000-08:00

Sitting on the edge of the jetty on the fourth night of walking the Overland Track in Tasmania's beautiful Cradle Mountain-Lake St.Clair National Park, i realise that i am, in fact, happy.

Legs dangling off the edge, with my feet just above the clear calm blue waters of the Narcissus River, back up against the upright post, head leaning back, i watch the sun set behind the mountains that fringe the lake, see little swifts dart about the waters, playing tag with each other, see a possum eat some grass on the other side of the river, and listen, just listen, to all the various magical sounds of life that go on around me.

At peace.

I sat.

Being.

I was thankful.

...i'm now back in Hobart after successfully completing the 75km track, plus a couple of side-trips up two of Tassie's highest peaks, Cradle Mountain and Mt. Ossa.

Cradle summit was not quite reached as about 50m from the top something, perhaps some dirt or grit, went in my eye playing havoc with my contact lens that then decided to fall out, leaving me in somewhat of a quandary - do i continue scrambling up the steep organ-pipe calved mountain with the wind blowing strong with one eye shut, or try to descend down the terrifying looking steepness that i'd just risen to get to my glasses case in my pack down below. I opted for the later as that was the safer option. Hey ho. Shit happens.

The weather was kind to us, in that there was very little rain to dampen spirits, although the landscape itself could well do with a bit of dampening, as they've had hardly any rain there for about 4 weeks.

You guys in the UK do some chanting and send some of that winter rain there over to us in Australia...

If one of my aims on this trip was to finally grow some calf muscles, i think i will sadly fail. Even though i'm pretty mentally tough and can hike on through over long distances now with a heavy pack on my back, my little legs still look as pathetic as ever! I'm surprised my knees haven't given out yet with the lack of assistance from the lower part of my legs!

As i said, the walk was great, with a beautiful wilderness landscape on fine view. I can well understand why many of my friends and family say that they have all loved Tassie. I certainly recommend it to anyone.

Got back last night in to Hobart where, after having perhaps the finest shower i have EVER had, for boy, did i smell bad and look dirty after not washing for 6 days, i sort out some fantastic fish and chips down by the quayside, and savored every tasty morsel whilst a young kid eating icecream was having a ball running at and scattering all the seagulls that were standing Hitchcockesque around me waiting for any scraps i may have flung their way. They were to be disappointed.

I admit a slight tinge of loneliness came over me for a short while as i sat there on the quay, quietly watching the few late night strollers go about their business, as there was no one to share in the warm glow of successfully completing the walk with, but that is one of the decisions i have chosen in life, and that is how it is...

A beer and a thorough read of many of the papers in one of the pubs along Salamanca Place then quenched my thirst as i got back up to speed with some of the world's events.

I fully agree with Daniel Day Lewis in his acceptance speech at the recent Screen Actors Guild awards. I'm not sure how Heath Ledger died (any further news on that whilst i've been in the bush???) but that final scene in Brokeback Mountain as he quietly opens the cupboard and fingers that shirt, is heartbreaking beyond belief. A tear wells up in me every time i see that or think about scene. Loss like that is so so sad.

Right, to use one last celebratory walk excuse, i'm in need of cake. Another weakness i've not managed to shake off.

What's in the news today?

2008-01-21T17:12:00.000-08:00

Wherever i am, i like to check up with what's going on in the local agenda, and how it's reported. I feel it's important to get to grips with local issues and local thinking.

So Melbourne's 'The Age' paper this weekend enlightened me with the following:

* Melbourne zoo rocked by abuse allegations as zoo keeper uses a marlin spike to repeatedly stab a captive elephant

*The US mortgage crisis is unlikely to spread to Aus, even though share prices have fallen for the 10th consecutive day, as its key market is Asia rather than the US

*Western Australia youngster continues her winning ways at the Australian Open by beating Mauresmo (she's just lost in the next round...)

* The planned dredging of Port Phillip Bay is causing great consternation

*Everyone's favourite apparently racist ex-Australian PM, John Howard, is due to join the lucrative global speaking circuit

*Marcus Baghdatis is in trouble over a YouTube video of him joining in in some anti-Turkish march

*An update on Greenpeace's anti-whaling tactics against the Japanese

*Scientists are drilling deep in to the Antarctic ice to extract weather info from the past

*Cambridge and Oxford unis are the last two British institutions to resist repatriation requests for Aboriginal remains

*A rare wet weekend for Victoria, and the Gold Coast folks will soon be able to wash their cars with a hose for the first time in 18 months

* And a report on Tom Cruise's Scientology beliefs...

I think i did a good job refraining from adding too much personal opinion on those headlines, especially when it comes to whackycrazedlalahollywoodsuperstarmaniacsonarantaboutthewondersofprepayreligions like Scientology.

The past weekend was spent at my brother's namesake island south of Melbourne, Phillip Island, where a spot of surfing and body-boarding was the order of the day - plus much chilling, and watching some surprisingly enthralling Australian Open tennis. I'm pleased to report that no shark attacks occurred this weekend, although a big mumma was spotted last week - a 5m great white came up to a lady and rolled over baring its belly to her. The reassuring sound of choppers in the air scanning the waters was much appreciated. I wasn't wanting any Amity Island Jaws style antics going on.

I did almost have one surfer take my head off though. After escaping losing my nose by about an inch i stayed in the white surf with the 8 year olds learning their body boarding tricks. That sufficed my appetite for the day.

I've finally torn myself away from the comfort of Melbourne and I'm now in Hobart, Tasmania, and soon to commence the week long Overlong Track in Cradle Mountain National Park. It was a bit of a jolt landing here last night, where the air temperature was far colder than the mainland - i was taken back to Alaska for a short while. I even saw locals wear scarves...

First impressions of Hobart are favourable - some nice modernist architecture, some interesting penal colony history, a relaxed cafe-culture feel, sprinkled with any small UK town feel.

I may not get chance to write for a while so sending you all my best, and a very big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dad.

Enjoy.

Mat

PS - the image at the top (if you can see it) is some Aboriginal artwork from the excellent collection at the National Gavvery Victoia

It's all fun and games until you lose an eye

2008-01-14T19:22:00.000-08:00

Been well and truly looked after by Prani and her friends at the moment - getting a good insight into life in Melbourne and its many many suburbs. This will have to be a pretty potted update of the last few days...

On a recommendation i made my way up the Dandedong Ranges with Prani and Alex to visit the William Rickets Sanctuary. Mr Rickets was a sculptor who had very strong links with native aboriginal tribes, and this sanctuary was his home for about 60 years.

A reflective place.

I personally found it full of mixed messages and imagery which was a little confusing, but it was a very interesting day trip. The setting of the sanctuary up in the hills was full of tree ferns with majestic eucalyptus trees filling up the canopy above. Crimson Rosella birds and Yellow-crested White Cockatoos kept us entertained whilst we had lunch too.

You may have seen Billy Connely's tour of Australia on the BBC many years back, and i recall he came here too and eulogised about the place. An interesting historical addition the good parks service they have over here in Victoria.

To earn my keep i volunteered to help Prani's Dad with the last few bits of sorting from his garden and shed that needed to happen before he could put the house on the market. Doing some manual labour was actually very satisfying, if exhausting. I felt like i'd earn't my lunch after all that. Much to Prani's surprise and dismay, Geoff, her dad commended me on the packing of the van. She's been waiting 30 years for such a compliment! ha.

That Sunday night we all went to the Botanical Gardens to watch an open-air screening of the best short films from the recent Melbourne International Film festival. prani and many of her friends who i have met, and who were also present were actually starring in one of the films - a humerus homage to Fame!

Some other notable screenings were: Man and woman after a drunken night make there way on to an open tennis court and begin to get a bit saucy in the umpire's chair when then stadium lights suddenly flash on and then Marilyn Manson-esque music comes blaring out and then the gates are mysterious locked and then they're trapped and shitting themselves, as is the audience by this point, soo they try and climb the fence, but are met with a sudden grizzly end. In the morning the tennis pro walks on to the court to pick up their belongings as if such youthful exuberance is common place, and then goes to deposit the lost property in the club house store room only to be met by the two corpses hanging on meat hooks - he turns around and sees 5 angelic ball boys all silvery white, but kinda flickering (and these were the very sudden shadows that head got the couple the night before) with their hands behind their back - his luck is out...Final credit says ' Advantage Satan'. Nice.

There was another great little short called spider which starts off with the quote ' It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye - Mum'

Too hard to describe here, but it involves two very shocking scenes where a lady is hit by a car and thena paramedic accidentally sticks a syringe in a man's eye. Ouch!

Yesterday i went to the opening day's play at the Australian Open tennis. I managed to get a ticket in the second arena, and was pleasantly surprised to be able watch the all-round impressive Maria Sharapova, pretty solid Andy roddick and Yelana Jokovic, the women's No.3 seed who played out a marathon 3hrs 10min opening match - finally winning 12-10 in the last set. Wow. What a great start to the tournament.

However, throughout all the play, i couldn't help but notice those angelic ball boys on court. What made their presence even more arresting was the fact that they had a sponsors logo emblazoned on the back of their shirts.

Couldn't help but raise a grin when i noticed the unmistakable logo of my previous employees - AVIVA....

Happiness is a warm gun

2008-01-09T21:53:00.000-08:00

If you're a Beetle that is.

I'd like to think it's more to do with personal fulfuliment or being able to love.

...or having air-con.

I'm already having to make an amendment to my previous 'lists' entry as Melbourne is melting in the heat today. I think the thermometers are touching 40C.

A city boils.

I'm in Melbourne City Library at the moment, enjoying it's cool interior, sitting in the echoing majesty of its main reading room, looking up at the dome so kindly illuminating us with bright light from above.

Upstairs they have Ned kelly's armour that he wore during some of his criminal raids.

I've not read widely on this much-loved Australian folk hero, but i would recomend to you all having a read of Peter Carey's Booker Prize winning 'The True History of the Kelly Gang.

I loved it. If my poor memory serves me correct, it's presented as some long-lost letters from Ned to his daughter. Great stuff from this much-lauded Ozzie author.

I'll share with you some of the quotesthat adorn the reading Room walls - designed to look like fine aged plasterwork, but more likely made from MDF.

'BOOKS ARE THE THEREADS FROM WHICH THE FABRIC OF OUR CULTURE AND CIVILAZATION ARE WOVEN' - Richard Clement

'ONE READS IN ORDER TO QUESTION' - Franz kafka

'BOOKS, THE CHILDREN OF THE BRAIN' - Jonathan Swift

'NOBODY HAS THE LAST WORD' - brenda Waller

BUT WORDS ARE THINGS
AND A SMALL DROP OF INK
FALLING LIKE DEW
UPON A THOUGHT
PRODUCES THAT WHICH MAKES THOUSANDS
PERHAPS MILLIONS
THINK
- Lord Byron

Couldn't have put it better myself.

Lists, lists and more lists...

2008-01-07T22:59:00.001-08:00

Okeedokee. I did say a couple of days ago i would summerise a few thoughts on my journey so far, as i'm now just past the half way marker.

So here are a few thoughts so far for your general consumption, digestion and prefered choice of disposal.

Most fun walk: The Zion Narrows, Utah

Best loved city: San Franciscooo, California

Walk most likely to be swept over a big drop by fast flowing water: The Routeburn Track, New Zealand

Toughest walk: The one along the Oregon coast between Seaside and Canon Beach - i nearly fainted at the end

Steepest walk: Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon, Arizona

Walk most likely to encounter old hippies, be offered plenty of dope, do yoga on the beach, find a sanctuary, fugatives and people walking in nothing but their swimming cozzies and flip flops: The Kalalau Trail along the Na Pali coast in Kauai, Hawaii

Poorest (monetry speaking) people met: The Fijians

Wealthiest (in every other sense) people met: The Fijians

Happiest people met: The Fijians

Best place for wildlife watching: Alaska

Most humid place: Either Honolulu airport or all of Fiji...

Biggest concentration of travellors on the road (apart from the Brits): Swiss and Germans

Best place to feed your geology interests: Southern Utahhhhhhh

Coldest place so far: Bryce Canyon, Utah

Hottest place so far: Somewhere in the middle of the flat agricultural plains of California where i nearly died when i stepped out of the air-conditioned car

Wettest place so far: Hilo, Big Island, Hawaii. It rains every day of the year there.

Highest altitude that i have reached so far: 13,250ft at the Mona Loa cabin on the Big Island of Hawaii. It gives me an altitude induced headache just thinking about it.

Biggest homeless population: Vancouver

Best place to see a tramp with a pet rat on a lead: San Francisco

Best live musical act so far: Tom Waits or Neil Young. It's a toughie...

Best place visited so far to remind you of all the grey wet weekends at the British seaside: Seaside, Oregon

Biggest natural living thing that i'll probably ever see in my entire life: A sequoia tree at over 300ft tall. Wow.

Most beautiful place for numerous reasons: Zion National Park

Best creature seen laying eggs under the fall moon on a deserted Fijian island: turtle

One mammal that will always put the heebeejeebees on you: Grizzly bears, closely followed by humans...

Hanging on the telephone

2008-01-07T22:39:00.000-08:00

BA-NA-NA-NA-NA
BA-NA-NA-NA-NA
CHERRICHERRICHERRI
CHERRICHERRICHERRICHERRI
1.20 A-BA-NA-NA-NA-NA
DON'T PAY MORE

It's a riotous cachophony of noise and tribal bantering between the rival fruit sellers down here at the Queen Victoria St Market.

HUPBERBEDUPDERBEDUP
HURDYGURDYVURDY

What the chuftybollards are they all saying?

Saw a young boy and girl respectively wearing a Batman and Superman T-shirt. Their accompanying parents must be real proud having bred not 1, but 2, superheroes in the family.

Actually i keep seeing loads of Superman T-shirts here in Melbourne. Obviously a pretty confident bunch of residents here.

I stroll around and catch an exhibition this afternoon at the Australian Museum of Moving Image - Replay: Christian Marclay.

Good fun it was too. In the main it was an assault of the hearing senses, but the first installation you're greeted with, is in fact a silent peace of art.

A deaf actor is filmed using sign language to interpret a variety of film reviews. The resulting footage plays out of this man weaving his arms as if it was some new choreographed dance routine. Sublime stuff. Raises a smile instantly.

Next up - 'Telephones', a great piece of editing various Hollywood clips, all dealing with, yes, the telephone. The montage creates a new story of its own. Hello. Hello. Hello Dave.

I hate telephones. I have to psych myself up to using them. they don't come natural to me. it's hard for me as a stammerer to not be able to use silent gestures in order to communicate more effectively, like using hand movements or facial expressions. The telephone relies on the spoken word. Introducing yourself to a stranger on the phone is particularly bad. The inability to say your own name is a demoralising event. Why continuously put yourself through that pain? The frustration of not being able to even say who you are. deprived of the ability to even name yourself. you become an unknown. You become invisible. Nothing. Taken away from you. You are left making clicking noises, as the person on the other end of the line wonders if they're getting a crank call, or perhaps dealing with some imbecile or freak of nature.

Don't let that put you off ever giving me a call though...

Lines in the road

2008-01-06T00:10:00.000-08:00

I'm in a David Lynch film.

I'm sure of it.

I keep seeing the yellow lines in the middle of the road.

Day after day.

On and on.

Mile after mile.

I've clocked them up over here.

More road crashes.

More death.

More disruption.

Time to think.

Time taken away.

Cruelly.

Coming back from the idyllic Akoroa penninsula to Christchurch this afternoon, another death on the road just in front of me. Motorcyclist this time. Firecrews in action.

The roads in front of me here in NZ have been littered with chaos.

On the way back from Milford Sound, only a few hundred yards in front of our bus, a brand-spanking new Kiwi Experience bus had suddenly caught fire, and then rolled back down the hill, over the edge of the road and eventually burned down to its bare frame. A truly terrifying sight. Luckily every one of the passengers escaped with their lives, if not their belongings, treasures, passports and wallets.

All this disaster took my mind many places. One more obscure one, was a silent desire a used to have when i was way younger - a hunger to see a plane fall from the sky and crash in to the land somewhere visible.

You'll all be glad to know that that particular wish has long since departed me. I'd hate to see that. I'd hate to be in that situation. Ayayayayay. Crazy kid. Crazy adult.

So yeah, its been a little while since my last blog.

It's my last night in New Zealand before i fly over to the West Island, or Australia as the rest of the world calls it.

New Zealand has grown on me these last couple of weeks. Maybe it was some words of wisdom that some friends have given me, as well as coming face to face with some truly spectacular landscapes, and meeting some good people.

One highlight for me was on New Years day saw me taking on the Routeburn Track down in the South West corner of the south island. I know some of you out there have walked it, but for those that havn't, its a 33km hike through beech forest then climbing above the tree line to wonderful alpine scenary, with an optional climb up one particular hill for some truly spectacular vistas of snow capped peaks, followed by some more lichentastic beech forest, numerous waterfalls, and then at the end hopping on a bus to Milford Sound for more awe and wonder.

They say you always get at least one day of rain on this tramp, and that was my joy on the last morning - never in my life have i had to cross so many dangerous stretches of path. About 7 waterfalls were so swollen by the sudden downpour that the water was cascading over the route necessitating numerous crossings with the water half way up your leg. Not much fun when you're on your own, and you're a scardy-cat like me, and you know you have a deadline.

Mmmm. Wet boots. Luckily i didn't get swept over. Apart from that excitement, the rest of the route was pretty easy, and was a rather relaxing 2 days, staying in some stunning huts along the way, meeting plenty of interesting trekkers, young and old.

This was followed as i mentioned, by a coach trip up to Milford Sound - only about 30km away, but i was greeted by the most clearest of skies. In some strange way, i was disappointed by the blue skies. I wanted to capture the renowned sound in its moody glory. Not to be. So a wet Matthew had to sit and enjoy the majestic sound in surprising calm. Mustn't grumble.

Finally, I watched the Kite Runner at the cinema last night with my mum. Fascinating little film. She's read the book and was bemoaning how they'd left great swathes of the story out and had altered a few details, but i tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade her that watching a 15 hour film would be no fun, and that the actual plot of the film was akin to the book, and that in fact, book and film are two very different media and should be treated as two distinct products. She wasn't buying it. Oh well. I really liked it.

The film took me back to the tranquility of flying my own kite on the Norfolk coast, being caught up in the beauty of maneuvering the 10ft kite through the skies, hearing the lines hum through the air, and the noise of the flapping material, and the thrill of doing a few tricks, all in all, engrossed in such simple pleasure. You and the elements. Mmmm. Lovely.

Anyway, it's Melbourne next for me, where i'll hopefully be able to catch up with some peeps i've met along the way, such as Paddy and Bob, Prani, Andrew and Rowena and Dale, from way back during my Alaskan wilderness trip.

So, i'm more than half way around this particular journey in life's rich pageant. Next time i'll share some of my thoughts on it all so far. But for now, so long amigos.

Mat, wondering what to do with this big mozzie bite on my temple - should i leave it alone or try and squeeze it???

PS - one final thing, when i was walking along on the track, one little girl who was on a short little walk with her family, wished me a Happy New Year. She was the only person on that walk who did offer that particular greeting. She raised an instant smile on my face, and i wished her a very good new years too. Her joviality was wonderful. I thank her for installing some of that joy in me. Happy New Year too you all - may you all have a fantastic 2008.

Older but none the wiser

2007-12-28T20:33:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone.

Hope people are getting over their festive pig-out. I wonder especially about JP who was no doubt going to try and confound everyone by eating 4 main chrimbo lunches whilst retaining his prime athletes physique. Where he puts it all i'd love to know...

Can't remember where i got to last time, but i'm with the folks who are holidaying over here in New Zealand, currently holed up at Fox Glacier on the west coast.

Christmas itself was spent up in the sunny Nelson region, with a jolly visit to the Abel Tasman National Park. the day itself, after a truly miserable rain storm in the morning, was spent on Rabbit Island, on the beach amongst loads of kiwis who were having the Christmas BBQ.

The contrast between those secluded beaches and green waters, with the icy-topped peaks of the Southern Alps and the mighty glaciers you can walk up to is pretty stark.

I'm still puzzling over why i'm not really jumping up and down with wild excitement over this country. It has plenty of the things i covet. Great hikes, sunshine, ovely water, picturesque mountains. Maybe it's just all too damned perfect. Maybe i'm missing the oddities or uniqueness of the likes of Alaskan mammals, utah rocks, Hawaiian heaven or fiji-time...

Actally, maybe it's the lack of people here. Or rather the lack of intriguing people. Nobody to act as my muse. No one to inspire or intrigue me. Maybe i'm missing the Greyhound buses...

Anyway, i shan't belittle this place as it is lovely. Do come. Enjoy.

Thanks for all the lovely birthday wishes from those who knew it was my big '3 oh', as Jen said. And no, i'm not Dorien Gray (or Grey) - i'm not ageless. I keep finding lovely white hairs in my barnet!

As, i mentioned last time, i've fixed the comments box, so please do leave any message, good or bad. Cheers.

Hope everyone has a great New Years. For some reason i've chosen to start the 3-day Routeburn Track on Jan 1st...why oh why oh why...

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T01:42:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone - if anyone reads this on Christmas Day i implore you to stop reading now and get on with something for more enlightening. Go outside and breath in some fresh air right now. Go. Go Go.

Anyway, i notice how i use 'anyway' a lot in this blog...here's me in Nelson, New Zealand, wishing you all a very sunny Merry Christmas.

Peace to all.

Enjoy!

mat

Comments please...

2007-12-20T19:16:00.000-08:00

If you would like to leave any comments, feel free too. I have just amended the comments settings so anyone, not just someone with a google account, can post what they like.

To be honest, i hadn't realised it was on such a restricted setting...

Lost for words

2007-12-19T16:02:00.000-08:00

Ayup.

I shan't bore you with the usual complaints of wet, cold and miserable and New zealand, as they're probably getting tiresome right now.

I'm over 3 weeks in to my stay here in New Zealand, and for some reason i'm feeling a little adrift at sea. lost for words and perhaps aimlessly floating about the place, with no set goals or destinations in mind. It's proving not the most productive of places. My photography feels less than inspired, and my author's voice for this blog and my own journal is lost somewhere.

Hmmm...

Anyway, i'll brain dump then. That has just made me smile actually, as Mel at NU always used to go into quiet hysterics whenever she heard that. Her visualisation of all these big cheeses dumping became too much for her. Excellent. Keep on giggling Mel.

Where to begin? There's been Mount Cook with it's Edmund Hilary training ground prior to his successful Everest ascent in 1953. A truly beautiful place, often shrouded in mist or rain, but offering teasing glimpses of its jagged spikes or abundant permafrost and glaciers. Arnauld the amazingsleepingshaggyDutchsnowboardingsurfingdislocatedshouldersocialworker who i met at the stunningly situated alpine lodge style hostel in Mt Cook village and who i shared a rather tasty pint of Speight's after our successful steep climb to the aptly named Sealy Tarns.

Maybe a lethargy had set in during my rather excessive relaxing on Fiji-time, coupled with more bad weather than good, here in New Zealand, that has prevented me getting out and about and doing some exercise. I'm reminded as i write of when Helen and I went hiking in the rain in the truly sublime cathedral like rocky mountains of Glacier National Park in Montana a couple of years back, a random bloke called Fred, apart from thinking i was a Hari Krishna with my then shaved head (not my Jari Litmanan-esque mullet going on right now - for the uninitiated a great Finnish striker from the 1990s who had a short spell at Liverpool, and a man young Stefan would compare some of my bad hairdos with. No millionaire's curl yet though Stef...), knew we must be Brits as we stumbled out of the woods, as only we Brits would happily walk in the pissing rain. Sadly, the rain happens to be pretty restrictive here, with rangers warning you off tracks for safety reasons, plus you'll derive no pleasure from the complete lack of any stunning vista.

Apologies for the very long sentences! Can't be bothered to put any formal structure in today! You'll just have to do with how my mind randomly wonders...

Picked up my first hitchhiker of the trip so far. I felt the need to repay the favours i have received from fellow travellers. Eric. From Texas. All of 21 and with a beard that put 10 years on him. Why can't i grow a good beard? Different subject. Eric had been studying the effects of untypical hard frosts on various fauna in Australia's much-depleted Queensland rainforests. I left him in the depressing horizontal rain up high in Arthur's Pass National Park. I retreated back to lower levels where you could see further than my size 9s.

Oh yeah, Wellington was a cool little city. Camped out in the Maple lodge up near Mt Victoria. Indulged my unhealthy sweet tooth in regular coffee and cake stops. I did go and see a good little movie montage in one of the art galleries - my first cultural outing sice the very enjoyable San Francisco Museum of Modern Art - i forgot to talk about the great Jeff Wall photo exhibition i saw there didn't i? oops. Good stuff. Go google some of his work. I like his 'milk' photo and some of his other urban grime. Where was i? hmmm. oh yes. A 20 minute film called Love, which took short edits from a whole host of hollywood movies to portray the huge emotional curves of love. A great, funny, sad, uplifting little montage that made my day.

Love. I read Sidharthra by Hermann Hesse last month. A beautiful book. Go read it if you've not. It may change your life. It may not of course, but it's a great little read. Yes. A great book by an author who sounds like he was in Hitler's Nazi party, but wasn't i can assure you.

And for those Lord of the Rings enthusiasts - i'm pretty sure Mt Cook national park was used as Minus Tyrith, or whatever it's called! I couldn't find the remains of the place though...Don't tell me it was computer generated!

Hmmm, my tummy is starting to rumble. What's new there.

I meet up with my folks who are holidaying over here on Monday. I'll try and get one, if not both to do a guest blogspot.

Both Phil and I have tried to pursuade our Dad, that factor 10 (rather than his usual Factor 2 frying suntan lotion) just simply won't do in this no-ozone layer southern hemisphere country. Even through this cloud you burn. I'm probably gonna walk out of this overly cool air-conditioned internet-cafe in to the rain outside with some fresh sunburn on my forehead. Ayayayayayay.

Ramble on. Oh yes, i here the mighty Led Zep had a top reunion last week. I hope my Okkie hairdresser in Kone, Hawaii managed to get herself a ticket.

Right, i'm going. I'm boring myself, so that's not a good sign. Time to hit the road and mozzy on up north.

Not too many more sleeps till Christmas.

Keep on rockin in the free world as a wise man once said.

ta ra,

mat

Into the wild

2007-12-13T21:56:00.000-08:00

I've been updating all my photo albums on Facebook whilst the miserable rain continues to fall sideways here in Wellington. Maybe the place was named after those rubber boots?

Anyway, i got one roll of film developed that i've been carrying around with me for a few months now, and it came back with a couple of nice surprises from Seattle and Seaside, Oregon. Check em out if ya wanna.

I like using black and white film, but on the odd occasion i end up in a place that cries out for some colour, like Fiji, and i'm stuck with 21 shots left on a roll, i scream!

The photo i've included here is one from last week, when i was in the Coramandel Peninsula, just around the corner from Auckland in New Zealand's north island. A foresty landscape, with lush plantation, and as i was heading out in the car during an intermission in the downpour, i caught out of the corner of my eye, a tatty old van plonked in the middle of a field. Screeeech went the brakes as i made a hasty halt at the side of the road in some new housing development, and went running out the car with my camera, and found a way through the fence in to said field. Nevermind the wet grass up around my bum, i think it was worth it.

My very own Into The Wild bus.

I don't think i'll be losing myself in the Alaskan wilderness like the anti-hero of that story.

Off to the South Island tomorrow for some Alpine scenery and meeting up with the folks for Christmas and New Years.

Regards to all. Thinking of you wherever you may be, physically and mentally.

Laters,

Mat

PS - if anyone is signed up as a friend on Facebook, you'll be able to see some old school photos of me and my form. Absolutely hilarious. My hair is almost as big now as it was then. I'm regressing in my old age. Have a laugh at my expense.

Wellingtoon

2007-12-12T16:52:00.000-08:00

Alrightee.

I'm in Wellington, the capital of New Zealand, a land where we brits are really called Whinging Poms (that's rich coming from moaning kiwi's!) and you here non-PC terms banded about pretty willy-nilly - any 'spazzers' or 'spastics' out there?

So, i'm in the rather pleasant Wellington, and it's quite nice to be doing some people watching againg after tryiong to live some of the outdoors lifestyle for the past couple of weeks. Sadly, the weather has been playing a big downer and making it pretty tricky. It's just not fun wanting to go out in the non-stop rain.

Anyway, the clouds did stop raining enough for me to be able to attempt the Tongariro Crossing trek in the Tongariro National Park and World Heritage Site.

The volcanic landscape was used in the Lord of the Rings films as Mordor and some other places - like when Gollum leads Sam and Frodo across Middle Earth. Pretty lovely lanscapes as the picture above (taken from the hostel door step!) can glimpse at.

Anyway, when struggling up a rather steep ridge near the start of the trek, i stopped to chat to one nice young Irish lad who i thought said he was working at the hostel, but in fact, i soon twigged that his accent hid the fact that it was the hospital he worked at.

I wondered why a physiotherapist was required at the hostel?

In fact he was out there for the weekend with 4 other friends from the hospital in Napier, who i eventually caught up with during the trek. One Scot, one Sri Lankan and a couple of Kiwis. I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere but i can't think of one at the moment.

The rain held off, but we had a nice mixture of biting cold, with me decked out in hat and gloves, fog, then the sun shon and i ended the day, well all of did, with sun burn! Crazy sun here in NZ. Beware.

We headed over to Taupa - the largest lake in NZ, and a place where Lydia, one of the physios from here called, the toilet stop of new Zealand. Nice.

Anyway, they welcomed me in to their possee and let me sleep in the spare 6th bed in their dorm room. We partyed our tired limbs (it was an 18km tramp, and recognised as one of the best in the country) the night away and had a thoroughly good time.

Sunday was spent in the dreary rain pottering around town trying our hardest to do some touristy sightseeing but it all got a bit too damp and depressing.

Mulleto

2007-12-09T12:25:00.000-08:00

Just to let you know that i've put a few snaps from the North Island here in New Zealand up in the left frame.

As you can see, i've just come back from Tongariro National Park and World Heritage Site - fortunately the weather held up enough to complete the 'Tongariro Crossing', a famed New Zealand tramp across the volcanic landscape. It got a bit misty at times as some of the photos show.

Anyway, i'm in urgent need of a haircut so today i shall endevour to find a barbars - i'm somewhat scared though, as the mullet seems to be a style of choice over here. Pretty damn scary let me tell you.

The most intriguing ones so far have been the rasta mullets...

I'll explain more later, and also tell you what 5 physiotherapists from Hawke's Bay and i have in common.

Take care,

Mat

December Rain

2007-12-05T12:07:00.000-08:00

...so she ended the night by saying that 12 differing species of semen were found inside Marc Almond when he got to hospital after his supposed motorcycle accident last year. Nice...

Hmmm.

Just another random story i've heard on my travels around New Zealand so far.

For your own safety I shan't divulge anything about the bowdlerisation of Sir Elton's swallowing my yellow thick load lyrics either. Far too unpalatable.

Yes, i'm in New Zealand where it seems the sun rarely shines and the rain proliferates. But when the sun does shine, it's by far the hottest sun i've ever encountered. Do they do factor 50 suncream? Can we patch up the hole in the Ozone layer?

I've been here for over a week now - it started with a couple of days in a very British feeling Auckland, where my one photo comprised of a snap of a 40ft paper-mache Santa on the front of a department store. The one shocking reminder that we are in fact drawing closer towards Christmas - something i was becoming quite oblivious of.

After a short stay in the Bay of Islands area north of the city, i ventured right up to the far north and completed the Cape Reinga Walkway trail, a 3 day tramp (as NZers call hiking) along 7 big sandy beaches, up and over numerous headlands, as well as navigating along a stream beside a giant sand dune.

My compadre was Trevor from Alberta, Canada, a Penguin Picker by trade. A good lad who's in the country for 6 months. It was great to see the wonder in his face as he walked for mile along painful mile along the sandy beaches as waves crashed to our side. Having seen photos of where he lives, an hour or so from Lake Louise and Banff in the Canadian Rockies, i'd have been equally awestruck by by his local landscapes. It was a lovely walk - to give you some visual comparisons, think, North Norfolk coast, the South Downs rolling hills and Peter O'Toole as Larry of Arabia strolling across those white sand dunes...

Our first night was spent backcountry camping on a sand dune, 50 yards from the one other tramper, a Kiwi dude toking away on some big camber well carrots. Trevor and i got alarmed when at about midnight we could see this flickering light come towards us. Was this geezer intent on a murderous spree in this isolated far north west corner of NZ?

Trevor was too intrigues to let it pass so he unzipped the tent and poked his head round the corner. He came back in and rested his head and smiled to himself. 'What is it?' i demand. He continues smiling. ' You wouldn't believe me if i told you -go look for yourself.'

I hesitantly poke my head round the side of the tent to be confronted by a surprising image of this long haired kiwi, rather impressively twirling around in his hands, a fire stick, alight both ends, creating enchanting firelight on the beach. Not what i was expecting...

Anyway, it was good hike, pretty tough on the legs, we got lucky with the low tides and hitchhiking to and from the start and end of the trail, and we celebrated a couple of hundred kms down south, where we just happened to bump in to a bar, in Kerikeri, a lovely English couple from Brighton of all places, who i'd briefly spoken to in one campsite along the trail.

Anyway, since we met a couple of days ago the rains just havn't stopped, so much table-tennis has been played in an overly competitive fashion at one of the hostels. I'm now back on the road in the Coramandel penninsula, in a one-horse town called Thames, where i would not be surprised if Wyatt Earp stepped out from one of the wooden clad single story shops along the main street.

I was supposed to be getting out in to the forest today, but not for once on this trip, the weather may get the better of me.

Just to clarify, it's not all sunshine on this trip. It did rain almost every day in Fiji and Hawaii! Now the same in New Zealand. But as my wise mum says, there's no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing...

Hope people are doing well. Stay in touch. I may venture south to climb another volcano if i can stomach it after my drenching and altitude suffering in Hawaii. Anyway, i need to go leave this hostel in 23 mins and i've not packed my things up yet.

Laters!

Mat.

Bula bula!!!!

2007-11-25T18:22:00.000-08:00

Hello all five of you that read this.

I'm holed up in some dive in Nadi, on the biggest Fijian island island, out of harms way from all the street vendors downstairs trying to tempt me to part with some cash for their various handicrafts. Not sure if i have space in my rucksack for a calved life-size wooden turtle...

So i've been out of contact here in Fiji for a couple of weeks.

A quick update before i head off to New Zealand in the morning.

Hawaii had bidden me fond farewell from the USA after almost 3 months. A great place away from the crowds.

So after immersing myself in that culture for such a long time i was a little apprehensive about visiting a country i knew little about - would they even speak English???

Plain and simply, the Fijians i have met are pehaps the kindest most welcoming people i will ever encounter, i have been lucky enough to experience things that money just can't buy (well, that's not strictly true...), lept off waterfalls, landed with a bump, and met up with old friends...

Most of my time has been spent on Taveuni, away from the well-trodden backpacker route of the Yasawas - it's the third biggest island in the North East, known for its dampness (yes it rained and rained and rained) and also for some topnotch snorkelling.

I met up with Lucy and Shaun, the couple i met back in Arizona whilst exploring the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

It was a total joy spending the past week and half wit them both, and sharing many treats.

The first real highlight was getting an invite to a village by a young lad, Mike.

I could ramble on about this day forever, but i shan't.

Basically, we were fully immersed in the way of life, taking a breakfast, going for a bathe in the local river where i surprised myself by diving headfirst off a 3m high rock (it's been a long time!), going to church and hearing their wonderful singing, being welcomed by the elders, sharing luch with the extended family, having a good Sunday rest - i fell asleep for an hour - then going off to see another waterfall.

Now, i thought i was just going to 'see' the waterfall. I was proved wrong. Big time. For the next 3 hours, having collected on our way a good 15 brothers, sisters, cousins, and macheteed our way to this waterfall, we set about leaping off waterfalls a good 7 or 8 metre high, sliding down natural rockslides, swiming, diving, leaping over rocks, and doing general heart thumping nerve wracking activities.

The locals were like gazzelles, skipping over the exceptionly slippery rock (it was raining), their vibram-soled feet impervious to pain. Non-stop diving for them. Some climb up 12m high trees and walk perrilously high rop style along a tree branch before plummeting in to the rock pool below.

I take one almighty tumble. Judging on the faces of some of the locals who i was with, as well as Shaun and Lucy, i presume it's a nasty one.

I remember being in suspension mid-air, like the Matrix, and saying to myself, this is gonna hurt.

I land on my left side with my left arm wrapped up underneath me, taking the full brunt.

Luckily for me, i'm double jointed in my shoulders so everyone is shocked to see me just dust myself down and stand up.

They're mouth agape.

I do have an egg on my elbow still, and i have a few small wounds on my arm and wrist, but nothing worse. I am however a bist shaken up and somewhat reticent about throwing myself off any more rocks - i don't really have much choice about it though!

After all that excitement we have a lite tea and the commence a 4.5 hour cava session - the Fijian muddy water looking tipple that acts like a narcotic, sending the oldies into swaying, eyes-closed weeble-like trances. Personally, as i'm not well used to the drink i struggle to see it's effects on me.

Shaun, who's had quite a bit more of it than me over the past month is self0confessed feeling its effects. He looks out of it!

All in all, it was a great day - experiences that money just can't buy. A real insight in to village life.

I was struck by their generosity, their natural strength (2nd only to Samoans on strength/body mass ration - get them opn your tug-a-war teams now!!!), their laughter, happiness, beautiful singing voices, young, old, girl and boy, their love for England, their Mother Country, their natural athleticism, feet sans shoes all their lives enabling them to walk on anything, wonderful guitar and ukele playing, and their shocking poverty when it comes to housing and average income.

During this time we were staying at a campground run by a young Kiwi, Henry, whio was also working on creating a surf camp on an island about 45 mins away. We saw some photos of this idyllic looking island that his father had the run of. We tried and tried to get there but hurricane warnings and rough sees were making that somewhat problematic...

Eventually though, we made it to Nanuku, a picture-postcard little island in the middle of the ocean that Richard, Henry's dad, is fortunate enough to lease. Oh my word, what an idylic spot. I'll try and get some photos up soon, but the sand was as white as can be, so so very hot, the sea water was as crystal clear as your mind can imagine, the snorkelling was bliss, with visibility going on and on.

Whilst waiting my turn for a snorkel on the boat, i happened to see a pilot whale swim past a mere 3 feet away. It must have been about 12 foot long. Wow.

The day ended though with Shaun and i playing frisbee on the beach - such simple pleasure has proved a real highlight of the trip so far. An immense sunset, a full moon rising from the ocean. Bliss.

To cap the whole day off though, beyond our wildest dreams, whilst taking an evening stroll around the island we came across some tracks, reminiscent of a 4x4 - in fact those of a turtle!

We followed them as they horse-shoed around in and out of the lush bush. I felt fortunate enough to have witnessed her tracks - it's egg laying season.

However, 50 yards further on, evn bigger tracks that ended in the trees. Perhaps a metre wide. We quietly and carefully poked our head in, and saw this majestic creature creating a nest for herself. Dumbstruck by mother nature. Wow wow wow.

Richard said we shouldn't disturb her as she hadn't started latying yet, so we returned impatiantly about an hour later.

We waited

And waited.

Shaun fekll asleep on the sand.

Lucy modding off.

Elana (a young disturbed young Finn whho thinks way too much) was looking...bored, absentmindedly, vacant, pensive Not quite sure...

Richard was alert.

So was i.

We could here mummy turtle create dummy nests to distract other predators for a good half hour after we thought she had finished.

Then suddenly in a surprising burst of speed and energy, an obviously exhausted turtle came crashing out of the shrubs and headed straight for the sea.

Crash!

Unluckily for her as the tide was out at this late hour, she was confronted by a wall of rock that proved insurmountable for her.

After an agonising wait, she finally found a way round it and made it to water.

Phew.

To witness such an event has proved, well, awesome, and i'm sure it's something taht i'll always be able to hold on to.

...sadly such bliss has to end, and farewells have to be made, so with a tear in my eye, i waved goodbye to Lucy and Shaun and wished them well on the extended Fijian stay, helping out with the surf camp and getting Nanuku back up to tip-top condition before their year in New Zealnd.

See you in a few years time. Bon voyage.

To take my mind off that departure, Richard asked my to drive the 30ft boat back last night on the glassy water whilst he and Henry caught up with each other - i felt like Forest Gump the new king of shrimp fishing.

I feel like i'm still swaying in fact.

Maybe i need to go lie down and take a nap.

So, there are a few ramblings for you. Apologies for the spelling, i'm sure it's shocking. I can't be bothered to go spell check it! I've added some links to holiday snaps on the left frame.

New Zealand here we come.

Yeah, passion...

2007-11-14T16:05:00.000-08:00

So after spending some time at the lovely Hilo Bay Hostel - think Graham Greene's opening to 'Our Man in Havana' (i think) where you look out of the window on a shanty town looking, palm and pineapple tree lined dirty street moving down to the oceon a stone throw's away, with hardwood floors and panelling on the wall, big fans whooshing away above creating an unatural calm in the otherwise hot, humid, frog-chorased, early-morning traffic - i also spent a night at the equally memorable Volcano Hulahula Hostel - run my a wiry old Japanese fella who was adament that everyone should remove their shoes in his home. Yes sir! I liked it.

Very quiet there on my last night on the Big Island - and i had a load of sorting of equipment tod do. Luckily the big dowm room i was in i had completely to myself. He had National Geographics going back to the 50s! Cool.

Anyway, i feel chirpy and say hi to the other guests, a couple in their 40s. I enquire as to what they've seen and what they're up to. It soons transpires taht we're in to similar interests.

What i loved about this Tuscon couple, was their love, his self-confessed passion. Regardless that his passion was hiking, as you may not find that interesting yourself, but it was the fact he knew what he was passionate about, and he led his life ensuring that he was able to satisfy that passion.

I love it when you meet people who are self-aware, and happy with their knowledge, finding a way to reach happiness.

I must add that i was then having plenty of thaughts of the Leadership Survey from my Norwich Union days with Alastair and the team. I now fully understand the meaning behind that passionate question. Good luck trying to raise those scores!

Do'h

2007-11-10T20:07:00.001-08:00

I called the last blog entry 'Passion' for a reason, and i never spoke about the reason why. Next time!

Passion

2007-11-10T19:59:00.000-08:00

After meeting up with the 2 lads in Kona on the other side of the island for some food and drink on the evening of their decent (the next day), i ended up staying at their house, high up in the hills of Captain Cook town, on a coffe plantation, overlooking the oceon. All very nice.

Oh yes, that morning, i desperately needed to get in the sea, something i hadn't done yet.

So i went to Hapunana beach. Loevely. The power of those waves soon caught me out, trying to swim one of them, feeling the force of the undertoad (in joke there), getting thrown up the beach and cracking my ankle on some lava rock on the sea floor. Nice cut there now.

Respect that sea

Only later did i find out from my hairdresser (another story) that Neil Young lives just off to the side of that beach! her friend goes round his pad to give his wife Peggie some yoga classes. He has picked a lovely spot to escape mainland USA.

The main hub for me on the island is Hilo, a rusty, weatherbeaten old town,w ith much derelict charm - it was pretty much flattened by a tsunami in the 1950s and another in the 1960s. It would lie down!!! Good on you Hilo.

Bizarelly, i did see snow whilst i was on the island. Whereas the other islands were hit my thunderous storms - one town got 16inches of rain in 24 hours, the Big Island got its first dumping of snow atop Mona Kea. It does happen. I saw it!

Right, i'm sure there is much i've left out, but i'm getting tired and my left leg now has cramp. I'm presuming it's from the hike rather than those mozzies having sucked all the blood out of it.

Well, i hope so...

Biggee biggeee can't you see....

2007-11-10T19:43:00.000-08:00

So my first experienc of Hawaii was a brief stay at Honolulu airport before departing for the Big Island - i was heading straight out of the bright lights and big-city life of O'ahu's main city. I had other fish to fry than another Vegas style town.

Anyway, sweetbejeezus, it was humid there (or as i wrote on Facebook at the time - hoomid - for my Norfolk friends - which confused some people i know...)

So the Big Island held in store Volcanoes, lush coastline, cheap camping, a major hike, a great hostel, some real nice people, my first taste of swimming in the Pacific, snow and lots and lots and lots of rain.

If you've ever wondered why Hawaii is so green in the photos, it's much the same as the green green grass of Wales - RAIN!

I think it rained every day of the week i was there but it ddn't particularly dampen my spirits.

Hilo, the island capital is known as the wettest US city - it didn't dissapoint.

The major attraction for me was Hawaii Volcanos National Park

I decided to do some backpacking and opted to climb (for some crazy reason) Mona Loa the world's biggest mountain - if you count the 20,000 ft below th oceon. A mammoth shield volcano.

A long long 3 days up to 13,250ft - easily the highest point on earth i have ever stepped.

SO the first afternoon i go up the first part of the trail to the Red Hill cabin at 10,000 where i'm greeted by two sleeping Americans - Tyler and Derran, who turn out to be my travelling companions the next day.

That night we pop outside to see if we can see any stars.

Oh my god!

I now realise why 5 of the world's largest observatories are sittuated on the summit of Mona Kea - the equally statured volcano on the island.

I have never seen so many stars. So so clear. (bleedin' cold too...)

Magical.

The next day we do the long 2nd stage - 11.5 miles up to the summit cabin. That was a slog. Never ending. I was slow. slow slow slow.

It was hugely satisfying to see the 1,000 ft markers get ticked off up on the ascent but at stages i was getting very short of breath and my 40lb rucksack could have been blown up for all i cared.

Anyway, i was the last man to camp, where i found the two boys pretty much zonked out - Tyler had amazing speed in those legs of his, probably due to all his outdoor researchg work in California's Soquoia National Park, and Derran, even with his busted knee could hop and skip[ up the mountain faster than this laboring sloth.

However, i was suffering the least with the altitude surprisingly. I did have a dull headache when i reached the top which stayed with me for quite a while, plus the night's sleep was pretty rubbish at the hight - something we all experienced.

the next morning i opted to go straight back down to the bottom of the trail, rather than do a 4.5 spur trail which the american duo were going to do. I literally raced down the 19mile route and 7,000ft dcent in 7 hours. However, 4 of those hours were spent in the worst rain storm i have ever walked in. Absolutely drenched. Non stop, real heavy rain. There are supposed to be no natural rivers on the island - well, i tell you what, the hard to spot footpath was soon turned in to a river cascading down the volcano.

Ayayayayayay.

Another day in paradise

2007-11-10T19:25:00.000-08:00

Apologies for starting this off with a Phil Collins song title...

Alrighteee, i'm sure you're all hanging on in there with baited breath as to what my next pearl of wisdom will be...hmmm, perhaps not.

Ok, i'm in Hawaii. More specifically i'm sitting in the Small Town Cafe in Napa'a (i think) on Kauai - Hawaii's most northerly inhabited main island.

And to be honest, it's beautiful here.

Sorry.

I can see the pineapple trees across the road slightly swaying in the breeze coming off the azure waters of the pacific oceon.

However, my legs are getting nicely eaten by a family or two of mozzies - they're having a party on my already slender calves.

Plus, i am feeling absolutely bloody cream-crackered after hiking the Kalalou Trail (probably spelt wrong) alongthe Na Pali coast.

I'll come to the point.

Kalalou beach is paradise.

Plain and simple.

Bliss.

It's a world renowned, death defying hike along the edge of the amazingly lush scaloped shaped cliffs of the Na Pali coastline - do a google search on the place. It is stunning.
3,000 foot cliffs plunging straight in to the sea.
Pineapple trees.
Mango trees.
Lemon trees.
Man-eating pigs.
Bill the Tom Hanks castaway figure who lives at the 8-mile marker
1 foot wide footpath
shere drops to the ocean
Yoga on the beach
Companions KB, a peter-pan-esque 38-year-old dude from San Diego who sounds just like Samuel L Jackson, lover of the herb and all-round great bloke
Tom, a 50-year old ex-marine, with a pirate visage, with hook moustache, shaven head. Scary looking chap. Not the most tactile person in the world!
KB's massaging hands
'The Kitchen' community for lost souls
Setting up camp on the beach
Fight Club
Flightseeing helicopters
Leptospirosis
Caves
The two King Kong remakes were shot here
I'm sure i walked on the beach for the guiness advert
Tick follows tock...
Tomasz the Polish Rock Singer who wouldn't stop talking

Descending on to that beach was like walking in to heaven. White sand, Waterfalls. Everyone who you stumbled upon just happy. Huge crashing surf. Satisfaction in having made it.

Oh my, was i sad to be spending just the one night there. Next time, i'll stay for longer for sure. It took me about 10 hours to hike the 11 miles out there.

On the way back, i made it home in 5hrs 58mins. Woohoo!!!

I now feel like i could sleep sleep sleep.

I've been up at 5.30 am for about the past 4 days. I hope to lie in tonight....

Anyway, i'm all back to front.

I should go back to the beginning of my Hawaii adventure. That is if you're still reading after that horribly sickening passage i've just written!

Strangers on a train

2007-10-29T21:36:00.000-07:00

No Hitchcockian misdeeds going on on this train ride, but i did happen to sit next to a fellow traveler, Dan, a history prof nearing retirement at one of the Californian unis - an enjoyable couple of hours were spent sharing stories, chewing the fat, offering travel tips, me having to recall some of my longputbacktothebackofmymind American History MA studies, national parks, and he chanting SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM to me. As you do. These sort of train ride chats seem to be the norm these days...

So i'm now pretty much up-to-date with this blog which is some achievement!

The past couple of days have been spent sorting out my stuff before i depart the North American continent to the Big Island of Hawaii in the morning, as well as having the pleasure of spending way too many hours on the phone with my bank who have stopped my Mastercard from working due to suspected fraud. Not an easy situation when i'm not going to be home for another 7 months or so. ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. Mindnumbingly painful.

1 cultural highlight that drew me back to San Francisco this weekend was the annual Bridge School Benefit concert - the school for kids with severe communication and speech difficulties that Neil and Peggy Young established 21 years ago - their 2 sons both have severe difficulties...

Anyway, it was an all-day acoustic event at the Shoreline Amphitheatre and i was bowled over by Regina Spektor, Jerry Lee Lewis (yes, he is just about alive still, but what great songs!), My Morning Jacket, Metallica, but the star for me was Tom Waits and the Cronos Quartet. WOW!!!! He was bonkers but so captivating. What a stonking voice. He was simply incomparable.

Right, the night is drawing in, i don't have much of interest to share - had a random chat with an Vietnam-vet peddling his poetry whilst i was quietly eating my egg sandwich in Union Square this afternoon, he told me to cheer up, some old dear who brought some of his poetry, now living in Oregon, but originally from San Francisco, then thought i'd be interested to hear how she spends her days, queuing up in the Post Office, doing laundry, fundamentals need to happen - so San Francisco has finally brought along its cold damp weather in to play; it feels like the definite end of this chapter.

Running out of steam. I'm gonna go clean my teeth and get under my thin tattered blanket. Time to get off this north American plate and dip my toes in to the Pacific. Lets hope no volcanoes decide to erupt destructively whilst i'm there...

The Paddy and Bob show

2007-10-29T21:10:00.000-07:00

"He doesn't know what he's let himself in for..."

Hitching a ride with the angelic pair of young Irish lads that were in my dorm, and riding up Highway 1 destination San Francisco, and then back over to Yosemite.

Lets just say that they were not necessarily in the best of states on that road-trip, but the ride all the way up the coast was pretty lovely - bright sunshine with BIG crashing waves in to the sand and rock that is the Western shoreline. It was pretty wonderful seeing kite-surfers on the big swell. I could've watched one guy keep on going out over the horizon, but much like Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise in On the Road, we had the hurry-ons to reach the city before nightfall.

A pretty non-eventful stay in San Francisco followed in fact - i tend to use the city as a rest-stop, just watching the world go by. I also had about 4 weeks of non-blog writing to catch up on...

As is the norm, mattyboy gets asked for ID whilst out drinking whilst the kids he's with don't! I'm starting to enjoy the slow realisation of bar staff as they scan my passport for the desired info, and watch their facial expression change. Roger Moore would've been a great id-er, what with his famous raised eyebrow and all that.

One afternoon after bummin out in the tranquility of the YERBA gardens in the city, I stumble across a new building rising up amongst a quiet lane off Mission St. It seems to be an unmistakable Liebeskind design - and it is! All harsh angles against the perpendicular. Nice. Reminded me of the V&A extension he had designed years back, and which was violently sabotaged by the dinosaurs like Brian Sewell of the Evening Standard, decrying what a catastrophe it would be to have such an eye sore on the London landscape. Balls. Since then every major city seems to be getting a Liebeskind. Leaving us behind...

Anyway, we make it to Yosemite, for a few days chilling out in a very cold tent structure there. Much to my frustration a HUGE school party is staying in the campsite area too - the kids never went to bed in sounded like!!! The three of us freeze that first night. I dig out my sleeping bag the next night and still use all the sheets and blankets that are provided too. I'm sure it was warmer outside.

A couple of nice hikes up and around the valley. All generally low-key to be fair, with no salacious stories to amuse you, bar the last night where 1 drink leads to another and another and somehow the night ended with us in one of the staff houses where Paddy ended up being given this bottle-opener belt buckle immensely gratifying his barman sensibilities. He was so chuffed! I'm surprised he could remember it. Bob meanwhile got spooked to high heaven when he saw an alligator skull on the mantelpiece....

Anyway, i've spared any scandalous storytelling about these two, as i promise to them. I'll just say that through whatever mischief they get up, i know that the two of them will be looking out for each other every minute of the day. True friends.

And then back to San Francisco i go...

Use 73 for a tripod

2007-10-27T21:50:00.000-07:00

So we cruise along the never-ending freeway that leads in to Downtown LA.

It feels like one long Thurrock equating to the length of Norwich to London, lit up either side of me by the ubiquitous out-of-town shopping malls and megastores, offering up all forms of consumerism - all very much assaulting my senses after 3 weeks in the desert landscapes of the American Southwest.

I look up at one point from my book - i'm the lone user of the above-head reading lights at this late hour - and notice this large blue edifice with the unmistakable yellow Ikea logo dwarfing all around it, be it Denny's or drive-thru Starbucks that lay in its shadow. I wonder if Posh and Becks have a Poang chair like me...

I get in to San Louis Obispo up the coast at about 2am. At the bus station rather than the amtrak station which would have been one block away from my hostel. Shite. Where the chufty bollox am i?

I'm the only one getting off the bus too. Great.

San Louis Obispo is apparently quite a fun little college town a few miles from the coast. At 2 in the morning it could've been the wrong alley in the wrong street in the wrong part of the wrongest town.

I notice an all-night store lit up on the corner of the main strip, much like a Ruscha or a Hopper painting. I lumber across there with all my belongings, destined to find directions to my hostel.

I'm intrigued to hear some real heavy hardcore punk blaring out over the stereo system. The few late-night shoppers for all those essential last minute munchies don't seem to mind.

OK, so the lone worker there, behind the counter listening to his favourite tunes is this big big tall long-haired dude with slicked back long black hair who kind of reminded me of one of the characters from the Simpson's cartoon - i've not seen it for a long while, but i think it's one of the comic book store characters.

I have to smile as i notice that underneath his black shirt (and black nailvarnish) was in fact a Simpson's T-shirt with the unmistakable glimpse of a y-fronted Homer Simpson sprawled out on the floor. Ha!

Anyway, back to the terror of making my way through the Halloween adorned streets of San Luis Obispo. I was having visions of Michael Myers stepping out in front of me, surprising me with an axe or something, much like Jamie Lee Curtis.

I stopped to take my big rucksacks off the front and back of me, with the echoes of Baldrick ringing in my ears, i had a cunning plan.

I will unsheathe my tripod from its little bag, and use the little beauty as a self-defence mechanism - if a worst-case scenario happened to befall me in the middle of the night, i recalled that the feet of the trip-pod have little rubber stoppers, that hide some rather nasty metal spikes that are more conventionally used for soft ground, could prove most handy if arm to arm combat!!!

As i'm still writing this blog, you've guessed that i lived out the night.

My biggest surprise was getting in to the hostel at 2.30am and being confronted by this totally bewildered young Irish lad who was wandering around the hall looking for his mate Paddy, convinced he was walking lost throughout the hostel. No sign of him.

Who was this drunkard?

that would be reveal:ed in the morning and over the course of the next week

I swim with the fishes

2007-10-27T21:27:00.000-07:00

These entries are probably too long aren't they?

Do let me know if they need to be changed in any way. I'm not sure if i'd read it seeing all those words. I think it was Groucho Marx who said something along the lines of i wouldn't want to be a member of a club that i was a member of. Something like that. Anyway, it'll help me remember some stories in time to come...

Also let me know if there's any kind of stuff you want to hear about what i'm thinking about.

Anyway, i spend a random night at Lake Mead, just south of Vegas where i go for a swim in the lake there - please try and remember that i'm in the middle of the blinkin desert here - lakes like this aren't natural. Thank you Hoover Dam for that.

I get to return the rental car with the problems over the rate as i expected, which contributed, along with the horrendous traffic jams and traffic signals that are a godsend for taxi-driver incomes, to me missing my Amtrak bus. Shite. Another Greyhound bus journey ensues. What do i think i'm letting myself in for???

Here we go again...

I chat to a young Ozzie guy, who could well be Dale's twin (from my Alaskan roadtrip) - such uncanny similar mannerisms, same outlook, from Melbourne, same build, similar clothing...it was only when i got on the bus that i remembered that dale actually has a twin. Was it him Dale?

In front of me on the long bus journey from Vegas to San Luis Obispo on the Californian coast is this family of 3 Latinos from the LA region.

2 teen age girls and there young mum, returning from a vacation in Vegas. I see one of the Christina Aguilara wannabee girls in front of open her purse and sift through, and probably remeniss (horrible misspelling i know - sorry), a whole host of casino/hotel credit cards. I can imagine the three of them whoring themselves over willing greasy old men, luring them in to lavish thousands of dollars over them, acquiring all manner of gifts.

Maybe i'm too harsh.

Anyway, we stop off in Barstow, Middle America, for a food break.

I become unstuck.

As the title of this blog hints at, i have a stutter. Duh!

I've not written much about it, because, well, to be honest, it's not been a particular hassle, nor is there any particular interest in you guys knowing the continuing struggle i have over the phone trying to book rooms with my surname!

Anyway, i get on with it, and i'm not fazed. However, this time, i get in a real fix. I'm real hungry and the only option is the dreaded golden arches of McDonalds. Not big nor clever i know. But i'm hungry.

Scan the menu to please my veggie tendencies. Being a fish eater i plump for a fillet-o-fish. Gourmet style.

So i wait in line patiently. The lad in front of me takes a long time to get served as he has a special little coupon for something or other. I get to the till at last, fearing that the bus will be leaving without me, and the lady serving, raises an eyebrow to say sorry about the wait and what would you like.

My mouth opens, but absolutely nothing comes out.

Nothing.

I'm standing there like a fuckin' goldfish

Blowing bubbles it looks like.

I never get blocked like this.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

I may once in a while stammer over a few explosive sounds in the alphabet like d, g and t, but i never come completely unable to make any sound.

I was bemuzed. Not as much as the MaccyD lady!

Out of nowhere, from the depths of my being i manage to blurt out "FISH"

I'm surprised as she.

She comprehends what i want and asks if i want fries with that...

Strange Days

2007-10-27T21:03:00.000-07:00

After a quick stint at some ancient cliff-dwellings (yes, real old stuff does exist in America!) at Mesa Verde National Park, i choose to take a ride through Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona all in one day, and find my way to Flagstaff, where i happen upon a couple of young Brits (my age, so yes, young) talking about their pending trip up to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

I'm in a charitable mood that night as i'm talking to people for the first time in a couple of weeks (i'm staying in a hostel rather than camping you see...) and feel animated, and offer them a ride up there in the morning, in my trusty rentalheapashit.

It ends up turning out to be great chance encounter, as Shaun and Lucy, whose names i only get in the morning, and I, end up sharing the best part of a week exploring the Grand Canyon together.

Thanks to Lucy's desire to fully get to grips with the place, we enquire about some very last minute backcountry permits into the Canyon, to get away from the hordes up top.

We get lucky and end up with a couple of nights under the rim, and make a journey to the bottom, and dip our toes in the absolutely freezing Colorado River that is the main culprit for creating this behemoth of a hole-in-the-ground.

With a big 45lb rucksack on my back, plus 4,500ft descent, 4,500ascent, my little calves can't handle the strain and my knees feel absolutely buggered at the end of the ordeal, i mean fun...

Reality that the real world exists above the rim, came in many forms, but one that stood out, was about half way down, a French girl comes over to me at a rest stop, and says she recognised the unmistakable dulcet tones of an Englishman, and wanted to ask me a question. I was intrigued. So were Shaun and Lucy. i looked at her fella with a raised eyebrow.

She wanted to know if i had heard the rugby score between England and France! I hadn't, and she was desperate to find out. We bantered a lit and said farewells wishing each other a great defeat.

(I was heartened to hear that we did indeed manage to beat our favourite neighbours across the pond. I smiled inwardly at the thought of that girls own reaction. Shame about the final though...)

Anyway, it was great to get to the bottom of the canyon, where you struggle to see the rim. It was remarkably warmer down there than on top - about 25F hotter.

had a jolly conversation with one lovely older lady on the free shuttle bus one afternoon. I could see that her and her companions all looked totally bush-whacked, but a cheering glow was evident on them all.

I enquired as to the reason for their triumph. they'd completed a sponsored walk which was great to hear. We got talking more and she shared a story about when her son did the Annapurna Trek in Nepal about 12 years ago - at the time of Nepal's most recent worst avalanche. Something to ponder over the next few months before i finish this trip with the same trek.

the avalanche killed about 250 people. She couldn't get in contact with him for a few days. She was struck with despair. She eventually hears some news. He's alright, but the cabin he was staying in the night of the big avalanche was on the other side of the circuit, so he was safe, but the next night, some secondary falls happened, and the hut was wiped out, killing the 10 people who were staying that night.

Hmmmm.

As is often the case when you form good bonds on the road with fellow travellers, a swift exit soon dawns, and i have to bid these great companions a fond farewell as i need to start my way back to hell (or Vegas) and return the rental car.

Wherever you are guys, i hope you're looking after each other - have a great time on that Fijian island, and i hope we'll meet up for a drink in warmer climes, either there or in New Zealand.

And so, i pack up the car and begrudgingly head back down to Flagstaff, before winding my way along the interstate to Vegas for my last night in the South West.

Lets just say i get some real shitty news whilst checking my emails in Flagstaff - the first time i've seen a computer in about a week.

I feel a long way from anywhere useful...

A red dust descends

2007-10-22T18:06:00.000-07:00

I tackle the last two national parks of utah in 1 go,mixing up trips in to and out of Canyonlands, and Arches, which are just a few miles apart from each other.

Red dust everywhere.

On my tent

In my tent

On me

Legs coated in it.

All good

Even manage to cook my finiest camp meal yet - a salmon fillet, couscous and vegetables.Life falls in to a most basic of events.

The views of Canyonlands are just mind blowing. Much easier toc omprehand than the Grand Canyon. If the photo uploader thingy on Facebook ever speeds up i'll put some pics up. Plenty of hiking that i won't bore you with, but there was a startling blue amongst the red rock out to the east - a potash plant on an indian owned bit of land. A real scar on the land, but a kind of attractive one. Iliked the colour contrast. Not sure what damage to the earth it's doing though -i ain't a potash expert...

I turn in to a right useles faffer at this point umming and arring about where to stay and when i should leave, and to where. Waste plenty of energy over all this. As is usual, the bounty in the natural open spaces soon puts i kybosh to all that, with a most most tranquil sunset from the Green River overlook, just a few yards from my tent. My word was it quiet,still,divine,immense. Humbling.

Arches was sun-backed and hot as i expected, with particular highlights amonst the many arches and rock formations being DoubleArch and Delicate Arch. I manage to take one wrong turn on one hike, missing a pile of rocks acting as a miny cairn. I manage to approach Delicate Arch from side-on, rather than head-on, gaining a fascinating viewpoint as a result. I'm also confronted by a massive bowl-shaped crater, much like that big pit at Jubba the hut's place in Return of the Jedi of all things. I'm careful not to go sliding down the slickrock to meet my doom.

Double Arch also gave me a movie flashback too, being used at the start of Indiana Jones and Last Crusade,when RiverPhoenix is scampering away from Nazis across Utah vistas.More solitude at setset.I'm a lucky boy.

The nearby town of Moab is so cool and hip and young and vibrant and knowing that it hurts. I get about 10 rolls of film developed,and much to my pleasant surprise there is a high percentage of decent shots that manage to capture at least a minute fraction of specialness at some of the places i've been to

Biggest question at the end of this stint was, do i wash my feet or not before getting in to sleeping bag...

I fought the law, and the law won (parental warning:swear words are used liberally in the following...)

2007-10-21T18:06:00.000-07:00

The following events are true.

Heading west, then north on Highway 24 through the empty empty landscape of southern Utah, destination Moab, on the doorstep of two more National parks, Arches, and Canyonlands.

The landscapes continued to bewilder me as i left Capital Reef. Now the rock formations turned in to a moonscape, with amazing grey cliffs, buttes and mounds, much like giant ski moguls. I was imagining astronauts in training here.

So i'm zooming along this totally deserted road, speed limit 65mph - i'm doing 80. Sometimes i have to real myself in. Slow down matty.

I choose to look in my rear-view mirror for a quick check to see if anyone has crept up on my out of the blue.

My stomach drops to unknown depths.

I SEE FLASHING LIGHTS!!!!!!

SH*T! f*CK! B*LL*CKS! I'M SCREWED! ARSE!

I've been caught speeding by the highway patrol and he's flashing me to pull over. motherf*cker. I'm done. Can't deny it. A fine? Penalty?

What do i do? Get out the car? Stay in it?

I pull over, and instinctively get out and the officer calmly tells me to get back in to the car. Shit. Bad start. I don't know how to compose myself. Errr....

"Kindly wind down the window sir."

He looks all muscly, tanned and steely eyed. He surveys the detritus that is this rental car with tent inner and fly-sheets strewn across the seats, camping gear, dirty pants, litter, maps scattered willynilly.

"What were you doing there boy? There was no need to be going that fast. You know how fast you were goin'?"

"Yes officer" i stammer out.

"Where you goin'?"

"..er..Moab..Arches...seeing national parks..."

"OK. OK. Lets see your licence and the car's registration papers."

I fumble around. Stuttering like a fool. Hand over the necessary documents and he surveys the details.

"Sit there one minute Matthew and i'll be back."

I see he goes back to his car, and i lean my head on my arms wresting on the open window of the car door, look out and survey the rolling desert landscape.

Well that puts a spanner in the works i surmise.

Officer Alton comes back. Hands back the documents. Looks me in the eye.

"here you go Matthew, i won't take anything further, but just take a bit slower will you. 65 on the highway and 75 a bit further on on the interstate."

"Thank you officer."

F*ck f*ck f*ck. Got away with it, but i'm all in a daze. Wishing to stay where i am for a few minutes to compose myself i notice that his car ain't moving anywhere very fast, so i put the car in to drive and head off back on to the open road all in a bit of a tizz...

Film boredom

2007-10-21T17:33:00.001-07:00

The inner film geek in me comes out at various points. I'm reminded of various scenes continually.

I'll share a couple.

Firstly, i'm sitting down to a cuppa of earl grey tea (a new favourite hot brew on my stove - no milk required - that's good) and a couple simple slices of bread and jam.

Simple pleasures.

I'm instantly taken back in to one of my all-time favourite films, the brilliant John Boorman film, 'Hope and Glory'

Charlie's dad comes home walking up the suburban streets of a bomb-torn London, on leave from active service on the frontline during WW2, and he has in his possession an unlabelled alluminium can that he has aquired from German supplies.

What is it? His suspicious wife shouts out not to open it and eat as it could be poisonous.

Ist's jam. Good old jam.

Something forbidden. Something sweet. He gorges on it, and then they all tuck in.

Simple. Like me!

And the other film link recurring in my mind is in fact Kurt Russell.

Firstly, the great film he's in, Breakdown, where he and his wife are on a road trip through, well, the Utah wilderness, have some car trouble and end up breaking down, wierd people stalking them?, he goes off for help, she ain't there on the return, all badness ensues, makes me feel great about touring along the same roads they filmed it all on!

Secondly, i've started to where my wide-brimmed hat all day, even now at 8pm in the dark, much like Kurt as Snake (?) in Escape from New York.

That's about where the resemblance ends! I can't grow a beard like him...

The unbearable lightness of being

2007-10-21T17:31:00.000-07:00

Read a great quote today, in fact from the start of some Raymond Carver short stories, from Milan Kundera:

We can never know what we want, because, living only one life, we can neithert compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

On the Road

2007-10-21T17:02:00.000-07:00

So i'm in Bryce Canyon after driving up from the North Rim. I was hoping for improved conditions. Instead i'm met by a snow storm!!!

Anyway, i get wrapped up and venture out to see the main amphitheater of Bryce Canyon, which proves to be perhaps the weirdest landscape i have ever seen, with its mad hoodoos and rock formations that have been shaped my thousands of years of freezing and thawing of ice. I can confirm that the site has over 200 nights per year of this freeze/thaw - i woke up to ice crystals all around my tent in the morning - it was so cold my alcohol fuelled Trangia stove wouldn't light up!!!

I was hungry. Hungry Mat = Grumpy Mat

I take a couple of short hikes into the valley floor to fully appreciate the weirdness and specialness of it all. Descending via tight switchbacks you soon gathered the scale of the rock walls towering either side of you. People ahead of you looked like ants, whilst giant Douglas Firs tried in vain to reach above the rock, dwarfed by the red rock.

Next stop on the trip across Utah was Grand Staircase - Escalante National Monument, a giant slab of land that Bill Clinton controversially established just before elections for his second term in office - an act to appease the environmental lobby. It is a huge tract of land that Utah prospectors were obviously gutted to see going under federal control, with no opportunity to mine the shit out of it. Good!

I managed to hop out the car for a few hours and take a hot little hike to the Calf Creek Falls - a surprisingly lush oasis amongst the desert.

Hoping back in the car, i make it to my third major landmark of the day, in order to spend a few nights at the largest (i think? or is it Canyonlands?), but probably least visited of the National Parks in Utah, Capital Reef National Park.

But why so unvisited? The landscapes on the way were breathtaking, seeing across the immense staircase of rock plateaus that end at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

On my ride through central Utah, i was surprised to read a road sign that informed me that i was travelling at 9600 feet elevation - never been that high on the earth's surface before. High up.

So you kinda seamlessly enter Capital Reef, which you can drive straight through on Highway 24 if you so wish, but that would be a shame and you'd miss out on such a lot - impressive messas and buttes that define the image of the western landscape, petroglyphs, the unique features of the 'waterpocket fold' that stretch over 100 miles - a rare folding of the earth's layers poking up from the floor revealing this wonderful wall, highlighting the many stratas that have created this patch of earth, plus a lovely old settlement called Fruita where you camp in its surviving orchards, where you're free to pick whatever seasonal fruits are on offer.

One lasting memory for me from Capital Reef will be its clear clear skies. I've never found such crystal clear light. I happened upon an information board which clarified my thoughts - visibility levels in the region are 145 miles. If only the earth were flat and i could see that far. You really could see for miles and miles and it was life enhancing. So delicious to be able to be somewhere where various environmental impacts have not yet polluted the region.

I get back in my fossil-fuelled car and hit the open road...hmmm

Afew snaps of Bryce:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17375&l=d8b2c&id=627251728

And of Capital Reef:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17376&l=bb315&id=627251728

Blown off course

2007-10-21T01:30:00.000-07:00

CAN'T FEEL MY TOES.

F*CK F*CK F*CK

It is sooo cold. I've never camped in such cold before.

My poor toes, with my big toes suffering especially due to their hilarious disproportionate size, are numb. I feel frozen. I'm in Bryce Canyon after wussing out of a long stay at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. When i arrive at the canyon strong winds are building up, with a certain crispness in the air.

In fact after pitching my tent and going for a walk along a rim footpath to the visitor centre i can well believe the forecasters warnings of 50mph gusts. Not a very jolly prospect when considering walking down in to the canyon. In fact the parks service shut two of the three roads in the north rim district, due to trees being uprooted, making it very hard to access any more of the north rim.

I had a brief wander out to an overlook, but the scale of the canyon on view was too hard to fully comprehend in any human scale. Without getting underneath this undeniable great scar in the ground, i was feeling like i wasn't really 'seeing' and feeling the canyon.

I went back to the campsite just before sunset, feeling tired and defeated, a bit pooped from being on the go all the time (no, i'm not expecting any sympathy!) and a little bit unwell.

I perked up a bit when i forced myself up and out to to see if there was any nice twilight, which there was, and i set alight the firewood from Chip that afforded me a pleasant night whilst out in the bitter cold and howling wind.

One excellent tip i got from Helen was to boil up some water and fill up your Sigg water bottle, as it then retains the heat and you have a ready made hot-water bottle. How i took comfort in it that night.

6c below zero under canvas is not conducive to sleep.

Now i was getting a dodgy bladder too. Maybe i had some infection, or maybe i was starting to get what befalls most men, the need to keep going to the toilet during the night. Arrggghhhh. I just wanted to sleep. My body clock was still struggling with a new regime of getting in to the tent at about 8.30pm, reading for about 45 or until i was too tired to keep on treading, and then wake up at about 6am. Me bladder just couldn't handle not having that usual midnight pee back when i was living in England.

I dunno....

One ain't enthusiastic about crawling out of his sleeping bag in those temps to go pee.

So balls to you Grand Canyon - you defeated me - i'm off to Bryce Canyon in the morning. Hopefully it'll be warmer there...

Anyway, i think that's probably far too much talk about a natural bodily function required to keep you in full running order for this reading group, plus i'm getting tired.

Do please write to me and keep me informed of what's going on in your lives, what's making you smile and what's making you sad, i really do like to hear.
Find me at matthewtwaddell@hotmail.com

Ta ra for now.

More updates tomorrow i'm sure.

Iron Lion Zion

2007-10-21T00:53:00.000-07:00

To quote the ubiquitous Bob Marley on my trip i manegd to make it to the sacred ground of Zion National Park the following day.

I picked up the car from the, yes, ridiculously huge, car rental centre in Vegas and i was about to venture solo out in to the desert.

I will openly confess to being very nervous at this point. I had no idea what i was getting myself in to, plus in to a landscape i was totally unprepared for. The nearest i'd come to a desert was probably watching Laurance of Arabia the week before in the Castro Theatre in San Francisco.

Luckiliy for me Zion turned out to be a real treasure, getting to meet some fantastic people, partaking in some fabulous hiking and generally diggin' the rock on view.

I've started to put a few photos up on my Facebook page, so if you've not seen them yet, here's a link that should work if you copy and paste it in to another browser (i wouldn't want you leaving me now...):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17377&l=d90e4&id=627251728

Some highlights were meeting Sherry and Chip who camped next to me for a few nights, two lovely early-retired old hippies from Portland, who cooked a tasty dinner for me one night and who provided general entertainment.

Brad and Branna, an ornithologist and nurse respectively from North Dakota (with much knowledge of Hawaii) were my partners for the great, strenuous, hot, vertically challenging for an acrophobe like me , hike up to the Canyon Overlook. Wow. Some view. My Swiss army knife proved useful - not any of the knives, but the tweezers - after Brad came back from getting to a death-defying overhang only to realise that he'd had a brush with a cactus - too much of a brush as it proved, as we spent half an hour waiting for him to pull out the last of the pesky little thorns from his skin. Ouch.

Oh yes, and they invited me over to their hotel where i had a dip in their hot-tub that evening and had myself a rare shower!

In the hot tub we met this ladfy who has two sets of twins aged 12 and 10, who had just walked rim to rim of the Grand Canyon in a sponsored day walk - that is one fantastic achievement. 7 miles down the south rim (and a 4,500 foot descent) to the colorado river, 7 mile across the canyon floor, then another 7miles up to the north rim with the same elevation gain that side - the North Rim is 1,00 foot higher than the south rim at 8,000 feet, and i know that the air at that hight when hiking feels way too thin at times if you're not fully prepared.

Jeez.

She trained 10 months for that, and it was the first thing she had done totally for herself she said.

When she said she got a voicemail from one of her daughters that morning, telling her the "she rocks" you could see the tears welling up in her eyes. She had to leave.

Nice one.

And then there was Catherine the trainee yoga-instructor from Santa Barbara who actually sounded like she was more from the southeast part of the US where Holly Hunter hails from. Some twang! She had a cool little campervan. And she just had to be playing Bob Marley of course.

One of the most enjoyable hikes i've ever done, was getting properly suited up for a trip up the Zion Narrows - in total about 16 miles up stream of a river in-between mighty canyon walls, that get as narrow as a few feet in parts. I did the (fairly) well trodden first 4 miles, which were beautiful. Great fun too wading through the water. So nice to be just free to walk through the water rather than be concerned about whether your expensive Gor-tex hiking boots will be buggered crossing a wee stream or not.

I was amuzed my the Ned Flanders look-a-like in the site next to me with his son - or lover?

Wondering at the amazing geological process that water takes to get through some of the world's latrgest sandstone rockfaces.

Enjoying the sharpest yummiest homemade lemonade since my school summer holiday trips to Auntie Margaret's.

And it goes on.

I can fully understand why my grandad loved Zion and Utah so much. A special indescribable magicalness about it.

My last morning, Chip came over to shake my hand and bid me farewell, as they were heading on up to Bryce whilst i was going to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

In fact Chip offered to me a most wonderful gift that i will be eternally grateful for. Such simplicity, but a gift that provided untold pleasures.

Firewood that he had just been chopping up.

It was to provide much needed light, warmth, comfort, meditation, peace and general well-beingness during a bitterly cold night on the North Rim.

What a fantastic gift he offered to me.

Pricesless.

Elemental.

Thank you.

Hell Hole

2007-10-21T00:40:00.000-07:00

Vegas

Hell

The aliens have landed

Neon ugliness

Smog

Eiffel Tower

Statue of Liberty

Pyramids

Ceaser's Palace

ARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Get me out of this despicable place...

A long train and bus journey through the fascinating flatlands of the central Californian valley, where you see masses and masses of immense wind farms, but with very few of the windmills turning - much like in the UK, where they're the first ones to be switched off if the national grid is full - crazy - and then across the Mohave desert, with it's strong crosswinds, with the jolliest of jolliest mexican bus drivers, and an old dude in his yellow slacks, comfortable shoes, cloth cap, jazz-tinged way of talking, looking much like what Jimi Hendrix would look like now i imagined, saw me deposited in Las Vegas at 11.30pm before i picked up a rental car in the morning. After sitting on my arse for more than 12 hours i had to go out for a wander and see the town at night, plus it was too hot to go to bed. I managed about two of the huge blocks on the strip in about an hour and glimpsed many of the big BIG hotels. I was more interested in the humongous construction sites assembling the all new evenbiggerthanthelasthotelletsturnitupto11and really otdostevewynnordonaldtrumporanyothertoorichguyandmilkthiscashcowtillwe'veburnyupeverylastfossilfuelonthissacredearth supercasinos. Amazing. So much money literally being poured into the ground, only to be knocked back down to the floor again in a few years time probably as the next big thing with the next big superstar performing 5 shows a night will have meant that its longevity had come to an end..

A most unreal place, and unnecessary, place on earth i cannot imagine. I was surprised my sensibilities were touched so much. Apologies if you love the town. You have permission not to be my friend anymore...

Yo-yo-yosemite

2007-10-21T00:14:00.000-07:00

It seems like a long time ago, but about 4 weeks back i set off on a weeks road trip with two h\girls from the various hostels that i kept bumping in to, and who stood me up at the baseball game!, 'Lady' Julie and Caitlin. From SuperCheapSteve we hired a car from the San Francisco airport and went on our merry way to Yosemite.

Well, that was the plan at least. I had to get my way out of the blessed highways first. Boy,. What was that smoke coming from the engine about 10 miles in to our journey. Ah yes, that would probably be from the fact that the hand brake was still on...

Oops.

Well..it was the first US car i'd driven that had had one. How was is supposed to know???

After much winding up steep mountainous roads we dipped in to Yosemite for a quick burst on the first night and saw a few of the mighty sights in a beautiful light of day.

My one full day was spent hiking up to see some of the waterfalls on the Half Dome Trail, and then capturing an awesome sunset and full moon rise high up over the Yosemite valley. Pretty damn special all in all. To get off the beaten trail i started to clamber of mighty rocks and boulders, also in order to get some good photos. I never thought i'd see myself leap up at rocks over rivers of running water but there i was with wounds to prove it. All good fun.

I think the moon was at its largest this year on that night. Got lucky. So peaceful. Seeing the colours of the sun on the granite rocks moc\ve from yellows, to orange, to pink, to red, to purple to..to..well sunset. Nice.

The next day i saw perhaps the largest living thing i will ever see - some mighty sequoia trees. Absolutely bloomin HUUUGE. I'll put a photo up soon. Can't describe it in words. The mighty trees. Just had to hug them. Well, the ones you were allowed to get near at least.

after too short a trip we then headed over to Pigeon Point Lighthouse on the Pacific coast about an hour south of San Francisco. Pretty much chilled out here whilst the weather went all very winterish Blighty style. Wet, moist, windy, misty, cold, grey. All quite satisfying.

I met a truelly unique young lad there, called Evanus of all things.

His life story made Baron Von Munchausen sound like a veritable truthsayer. This artist, stroke realtor, stroke park ranger, stroke son of a tv station owner, stroke surfer, stroke dopefiend was just mindbogglingly fascinating in his size 14 feet, gold ski jacket, too-short trousers, golden coloured hair and undeniable boyish good looks was unique. He made the 'Dorian Grey' comment i received once seem misplaced, as he seemed truly younger than his 27 years.

Weird.

One highlight was getting tin the car and heading south down Highway 1, cruising along the Pacific. Some mighty views, with majestic white rolling waves crashing in to the beaches, or against the rocks. Such awesome natural wonder.

The drive actually reminded me of other great coastal road trips. If you've not seen it, head to the North Norfolk coast, a shoreline a just love.

Anyway, we soon journeyed back to San Francisco where i was to go back on the road again, solo, and not really sure where too and to do what. I was starting to feel a little lost....

Apologies...

2007-10-21T00:07:00.000-07:00

Hello!

Apologies for the long long wait for a next entry to my blog.

Top those thousands of queries as to what's going on, well, about 3 in fact, i've not been mauled by bears, nor abducted by eskimos, nor sunken in quick sand, nor ignoring you all, nor caught up in some bizarre SanFranciscoangaylovefestculttypething.

So if you bare with me i'll get you up to date with some more of my ponderings, much rock talk, getting caught by the law, canyoning, more greyhound rides, sunrises, sunsets, sadness, lonliness, happiness etc. Now where was i about 4 weeks ago when i last wrote a blog entry, In fact i was in this asme seat in the Adelaide Hostel here in Downtown San Francisco.

Now how did i get back here...

I left my hair in san francissscooooo...

2007-09-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

Papa Gianni
John Hirshman
Robert Altman
Dennis Hopper
Chinese dragons
Chris Rock
Russel Brand
Francis Ford Coppola
Pavarotti
Clint Eastwood
Peter O'Toole
Bill Bryson

Maybe i've dreamt it all, but i've met all these people in San Francisco. Maybe it's the ever-present smell of weed in the air that's responsible. Or maybe, just maybe, i have seen these people. Or maybe...

I'm leaving the city in the morning, ready to begin another adventure - where i don't know yet?!

It's a fascinating city, and i'm sure you're all familiar with it in some way or another.

One of my overriding impression, along with the most enjoyable sights like Alcatraz and wondering the hilly streets etc, is the deprivation on the streets. I find it fascinating how America treats it's underprivileged.

My first hostel was in the aptly named Tenderloin district - not a great first impression. You felt safer staying in the hostel rather than venturing out. It's very central, but it's populated by the needy, homeless, drug-addicted, deprived, depraved, and penniless hordes that need help.

A particular image that i didn't feel appropriate to capture on film was seeing this long haired, bearded tramp who happened to be standing in front of a flag pole that was proudly waving the stars and stripes, and as he walked around in circles, if you traced down the lead to his pet that he was exercising, you'd notice that it was a rat...

Today, my last day, i went down to the Castro district (the uber-gay part) to watch a revival at the beautiful art-nuveau cinema, of Laurence of Arabia. What a fantastic film. It's story resonates so much in today's world with colonial powers, be it Britain or America, seeking to gain a foothold in the Middle East and Arabia. How history teaches us many lessons.

And it's also just such a beautiful film to look at. Yes the young dashing Peter O'Toole was much admired by the audience, straight or gay, but the imagery was sublime.

One scene near the start is one of my favourite shots of all-time.

Peter sits there in profile, looking at the lighted match, admiring its glow and acknowledging the power it get inflict, and then he blows it out, and in one of the first jump-cuts in cinema, you go to an exquisite sun-rise.

Fantastic.

Goose-bump inducing.

Yesterday, i happened to go for a coffee with a German mate, Oscar, in n authentic Italian cafe near city lights books on Columbus. There happened to be a sing-song going on and we seated ourselves inbetween some grand dames, which proved very enlightening. One lady gave me the full run-down of the owner and the patrons. He is 87, Pap Gianni, and he was a friend of Pavarotti, who sang at the cafe for papa Gianni's 80-th birthday. Then walked in a beat poet, John Hirshman looking like he'd been unearthed from some undergrowth, and then i thought i saw Robert Altman in the corner. But he's dead. But it looked just like him. And Francis Ford Coppola was playing the bongos in the band. It was all starting to get a bit confusing.

Plus the local Chinatown was a seething mass of people as they celebrated the Autumn Moon Festival. I'd gone from Shanghai to Roma in the space of 50yards.

I've also met Tony my hairdressing from Perth in Australia who lives in the Castro, a thousand Bill Bryson lookalikes at the cinema, A couple of ozzies who i parted with one night, 2 english girls who stood me up at the baseball game, another swiss baseball-mad man who's smelling out my current dorm room, a most fantastic tour guide at Alcatraz who made the place come alive with stories of escapes (or not) from the Rock, and much much more besides.

A little sadly, i've not experienced any fog, so i feel like i've not really experienced the true San Francisco. Maybe, just maybe, that'll mean i'll have to come back to this great city again???

Sacramento bye-ta-ta

2007-09-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

Jeez Lousie.

What a long night that was.

Have you ever slept ontop of a rucksack fearful that it'll get pinched?

Have you ever had security guys poking a stick at you to put your shoes back on, as that's a sure fire sign that you're a bomb terrorist?

Have you ever felt like you're a stranger in a strange land, when in fact you shouldn't be?

I had landed in the capital of California in the middle of the night so my first impressions of the state was of thieves, irate travellers, yound hobos, the destitute, and Mexican spanish seemingly the language of the day.

What had i let myself in for?

Next time i'll take the overnight bus.

Whitie over here was feeling a million miles away from the old_victorian charm of the Oregon Seaside.

A 21 hour bus ride that i'll savour for quite some time.

And to my good fortune, i land in San Francisco on the Tuesday morning, only to be greeted with a walk to my hostel which happens to be situated in the aptly named Tenderloin district. Indeed, it's somewhat of a bruise in the otherwise lovely city. It's populated by the less-fortunate, mainly minority-groups, who are homeless, penniless, craving for a drug-fix of some sort.

F*ck, what a crap start to the day!!!

Road to nowhere

2007-09-20T22:21:00.000-07:00

As you may have gathered from the photo below, i'm in San Francisco. I had to get here first which proved a bit of an adventure in its own right....

Riding the Greyhound from Portland:

- Japanese man boards with 4 cups of coffee, which he proceeds to drink from randomly
- supremely fat man wedged in to his seat with immense sweaty (or urine-soaked?) wet tracksuit pants
- 2 hardcore kids, one with black hair and a tattoo all over her chest, and the other, a peroxide blonde
- a Hawaiian sumo-wrestler-type falling asleep on the shoulder of an unimpressed woman
- a guitar-pickin, mustachioed, long-haired, tall man with a big tick/twitch - due to Alzheimer's or drugs?
- an old lady of about 100 walking slowly, oh so very slowly, down the aisle like the pope leading one of his processions through the street of some needful city. She really was about 100...
- college girl with long shiny hair in a ponytail, green hooded cardy, North Face rucksack and Camelback platypus and a laptop, carrying on her journey a small parcel from a random valley-girl type from the Greyhound station in Portland
- a woman who has unscrewed her cherry coke, only to lose the lid on the floor, necessitating her to cold the open bottle for the duration of the journey, or until she consumes it all. She don't look impressed.
- young boy and girl couple having a wrap and chips in the rest stop in Medford, Oregon, wondering how to reclaim on much-needed money that some Greyhound admin error had deprived them of
- middle-aged alcoholic with skin like a snake's, like a bronzed hide, weathered and aged prematurely
- on steps some male acquaintance at a later stop, big and tall, and slightly chubby in the face. He does blow-job gestures to her with his right hand and puffs out his cheek. Nice.
- young kid with a grown out crew cut and glasses like Piggy from Lord of the Flies, about to go to army camp prior to his first posting in Iraq. Will he come back alive? He also wants to be the one to claim the head of Bin Ladin too, and reap the $25 million reward on offer
- 19 year-old fat kid, embarking on his first venture away from his parents, who quietly see him off without much expression of emotion, who's about the size of a walrus, is now playing squares with a 17 year-old who looks about 12, and is a fraction of this kids size
- 29 year-old Brit, adrift at sea in the greyhound cultural wasteland, with too much of a floppy, surprising everyone with his age ("...i thought you were about 21"), heading south to California, destination San Francisco and to retrace some of his grandfather's favourite landscapes, is questioning the prospect of having a 5 hour layover in Sacramento...

I'd just like to say...

2007-09-18T23:18:00.001-07:00

...i saw Russell Brand in San Francisco today. I think he saw me too!

Oh i do like to be beside the seaside

2007-09-18T22:51:00.000-07:00

I reached the Pacific Ocean!!!!!

I took a detour on my journey south to spend the weekend at the hostel in Seaside, Oregon.

Seaside was the end of the road for Lewis and Clark the two explorers who 200 years ago tramped across the US from Missouri to the Pacific carving a route out. Some trip. Took 3 years. Lives were lost. But some mighty achievement.

As a reward, Lewis got really depressed with life after that achievement, but unlike the Japanese mentality of ritual suicide when they think life cannot be bettered, after having reached a certain milestone, and they seek no shame nor disgrace in ending their life, Lewis committed a sadder suicide. Oh dear. Tangent over.

Anyway, Seaside proved to be a quaint, wet, Victorian-era resort, so so so familiar to my English eyes. A mixture of Great Yarmouth, Eastbourne, and Essex or Yorkshire coastal town out of season.

I took a mighty trek over the coastal headlands which provided some great views.

Some films to have been shot in this region for you film buffs, are the Goonies and Point Break. Yep, i saw surfers on the very beaches where Keanu and Patrick went hunting for the epic big one, and the clapboard houses, rugged coastline, and green green landscapes and youths sitting on the roof of their homes late at night sipping on a cheeky can of beer really did happen.

Anyway, this trek was great - but so exhausting. 9.5 miles of terrain much like the South West coastal path in England i imagine. Through towering Sitka Spruce (which we don't get i know...), leading to bay after bay, i eventually land at my destination, Cannon Beach, where there is a much photographed set of rocks off the shore line, called Haystacks.

What was also a real treat was happening upon two lovely guests who showed up on the Saturday Louise and Hayley, from Essex, England and Perth, Australia respectively. It proved a real treat to spend the weekend with them and eat clam chowder, learn backgammon, play scrabble, hunt for fish and chips, look at the rain, watch Rushmore (great!), and generally lounge about having a natter and walk along the beach.

I wish them both well on their respective journeys.

If you read this, i hope to see you both soon!

I never thought i'd hear the beautiful twang of "cor blimey it's pissin' it down" when i went to Seaside, but i'm pleased to say i did!

Sleepy in Seattle

2007-09-18T21:50:00.000-07:00

So i'm long out of Alaska now, and there are some reflections...

My last couple of nights were spent at the 26 Street Hostel in Anchorage with Swiss Alain, and hosted by a couple of lovely Argentines - the hostel was abuzz with the sound of Spanish talk and music in the air. I was suddenly the alienated foreigner!

And Marcello was a passionate sportsman, so i had to endure the poor rationale about how the hand of god was a justified act of rilliance - it was blatent cheating!!!

Anyway, they were great hosts, very welcoming and did a lovely BBQ for Alain and I which was much appreciated.

So i departed from Los Anchorage airport where i had the pleasure to encounter some of the horrible male chauvenistic right-way, stetson wearing, oil-workers and combat fisherman i'd had the good fortune not to meet up until this point.

Urghhh.

They do make a bad name for their countrymen. Obnoxious. Anyway...

I land in Seattle - a city i'd been to with Helen a couple of years ago.

This was going to always be just a bit of a stopover really - and it proved to be - pleasantly wandering about, the weatherw as nice in the main so i sat in the park and read etc, nothing too strenuous.

I did happen though to witness a pretty nasty road accident - which happened right beside me. I was walking along Alaskan Highway which is a busy road that goes along the Elliot Bay waterfront, so it has lots of piers where ships set sail to the numerous islands out in Puget Sound, and over to the Olympic Peninsula.

I has just seen a couple of seals playing in the water which was a jolly surprise, but i had turned to contine my stroll.

I saw this man and a woman start to cross the road. for some reason i remember whispering to myself in my head "ohh, that doesn't look like a good place to cross..."

THWAAK!!!!

A motorcyclecomes along, not sure how fast, but clips the lady.

She goes spinning up in the air and lands on her back - i can't quite tell if it was her head or not...

Her fella looked instantly shocked.

Nasty

the motorcyclist and his bike went careering off to the left, across on the other side of the road, and into the crash barriers.

Luckily for him there was no oncoming traffic at that very moment to inflict extra injury.

All this happened right beside me.

the ladies Starbucks iceed drink landed at my feet.

the motorcyclist could have quite easily hit the lady and veered right, and would have taken me out for sure.

Ayayayayeee

She wasn't moving much, but thankfully the emergency services showed up really quickly. I hope all is well...

The Road to McCarthy

2007-09-10T20:19:00.000-07:00

SO i get the truck and decide on heading east to the largest, but one of the least visited National Parks of them all - Wrengall-St.Elias National Park and Reserve.

6 times the size of Yellowstone. Much bigger than Switzerland.

With just 2 dirt roads penetrating its borders.

I opt for the 60 miles of gravel that is the McCarthy road, that leads to a wonderfully hip and independent settlement of McCarthy, populated by arty independent loaners and alpine guides. 4 miles up the hill is the wonderful remains of the Kennicot copper mill and mines in the mountains.

I go on a tour of the 14 stories of the main mill building with a few other young peeps, and have the good fortune of meeting Alain from Switzerland.

Now Alain is a true great.

He has been cycling around the Americas for the last 21 months. From the tip if Argentina to the top of the Alaska, Prudoe Bay, where oil is pumped and begins its sinuous way down the state to Valdez (hmmm, the Exxon Valdez disaster is still fresh in the memories of every Alaskan for one reason or another...)

So i hang around with him and actually get invited to a Bob Marley concert party in the old recreation hall of the Kennicot Mine with some of the other guides and park rangers in the area. There i am grooving away to the great rastaman on a Saturday night, with rain pouring down, with some like minded people, all of us in our own little world, not caring how we look, a few of them had partaken in a few of those herbal cigarettes methinks, and we're in the middle of this massive wilderness, and it's blissful and magical and unforgettable and exhausting and oh so bizarre!

the road to mccarthy is a long bumpy one, but one every traveller should undertake - you never what you might find at the foot of the glacier.

Time for a breather

2007-09-10T20:06:00.000-07:00

Heading south out of Denali on a tiny bus with a couple of Russians and a scary US army-type, and a driver with a tash that would make a walrus blush.

One thing i would definately love to do, is to go back to Denali and wild camp. The scenary was beautiful in a truly unexpected way.The muti-colours of the rocks, the reds of the tundra, the deep brown of the Death Valley-esue Alaskan range mountains, the yellows and oranges of the tress, and the imense forks that create long sinuous rivers, the abundance of otherworldy wildlife, plus the overpowering might of Mt. McKinley.

If you get the chance, go go go!

I get back to Anchorage and have a blissful shower, my first wash in about 4 days - hmmmm, did i smell bad - but i didn't care! Who gives a shit about appearance. Why bother.

The hostel is a bit dead, so i head out to Humpy's restaurant again to catch some food and taste a couple of ales.

Upon looking over my shoulder i glimpse Ted Danson in a new Cheers looking program - he looks kinda plasticised a little - no doubt a nip her, and a nip there.

Can anyone tell me if he's reignited his Cheers persona again? Is he belatedly returning to his most famous role? I loved that show. "...where everybody knows your name" A warm glow go through the body whenever i hear that theme tune.

In the morning i wake early to go car rental searching - hilariously i end up with the smallest car that Enterprise rentals has on offer - a MASSIVE Ford 4x4 truck. Ahhhhhhh, i'm only used to little Ford Fiestas.

Brand new, not a scratch on it, you can smell the newness still. This is going to be fun...

The Great One

2007-09-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

Shock to the system

Waking up in my tent to temperatures close to zero, the warmth of my breath easily visible, was not my usual experience of camping back home in the UK.

Oh boy.

After wrapping up in pretty much every item of clothing i had, and missing even more my lost beanie, i got the food out of the huge bear safe box and cooked some breaky, and treated myself to a warm breakfast to set me up for the day ahead.

The campsite i was staying in was open to tenters for the first time in 6 years due to the proliferation of wolves in the area. Another threat to consider.

As Dale once said to me, "ahhh forget the snakes and spiders back in Oz, these animals are really gonna do you some 'arm..."

SO Dawn and I rode the park bus for a couple of days hoping on and off, do a couple of lite hikes, but mainly doing some wildlife spotting from the bus, and trying to glimpse the shy and retiring presence of Mt. Mckinley. The 20,000 plus feet mountain is obscured by clouds for about 2 out of 3 days.

I got lucky!

Big time!!!

Uninterupted views for 2 days running. Boy does it loom massively over the already daunting Alaskan Range mountains. Even though it is only the 113th highest mountain in the world, it possess the greatest uniterupted vertical rise of any mountain in the world. Due to its relatively low level at the base, there is one wall of the mountain that is 17,000 feet high.

Compare that to the mightiest mountain of them all, Everest, that has a paltry 11,000 feet of clear uninterupted rock face.

You'll be able to see what i mean when i link up some photos.

Amazing.

The spiritual mountain has claimed the lives of numerous mountainiers who have attempted to scale this peak, one of the most dangerous on this small planet of ours.

Bold and brash and white the moutain towered above everything in the surroundings, first visble on the road from a good 70 miles away.

I made it to the end of the long dusty road - Wonder Lake - where i went bleberry and cranberry picking in the warm autum sunshine. I also glimpsed my first caribou - barely a spot on the horizon, but definately one, due to its size, shape and antlers.

Oh yeah, and the grizzly we spotted earlier - now i'm sure he looked me in the eye. Let me know what you think when you see the photo!

Now i must say a word about the great drivers that the National Park Service employ.

We had some old hippy drive us out on the camper bus on the first morning - that bus had extra space for large backpacks and bear boxes etc.

But the best one was Elton Parks - a true credit to Denali. He entertained us with stories for a long long dusty drive back. Some of his jokes were hilarious. Many of them, Tim Vine would have been proud of.

A particular favourite was on observing some fresh snow on the horizon of one mighty peak he goes...

"Ah, some Indian snow..."

Someone eventually pipes up, "why's it called Indian snow?"

"Well, there's apache here, and apache there..."

Fantastic!

Drunken Eskimos

2007-09-10T19:28:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, the hostel in Denali.

A great assembly of wooden shacks, with loads of great people - ran in to the couple who had stayed in my room in Seward and had a great chat - so i was really enthusiastic about my lovely looking dorm.

Shame about the two most scarriest people i have probably had the misfortune to meet!

One little Eskimo women who was an obvious alcoholic, and her pardner from St.Louis. He shared with me the lovely story about how she was once the victim of a random drive by shotgun shooting further up north in the arctic circle.

They kept assuring me that they weren't drunk nor liars.

I was nodding approvingly.

Lets just say the 5 hours i was on my mattress that night i didn't get one wink of sleep - with his drunken snoring and her insescent sleepful wailings.

Was i keen to get camping out in the cold of Denali National Park!

Mat the Mountain Goat

2007-09-10T19:01:00.000-07:00

Anyway, moving on from the trauma of losing a treasured possession on the road, i go on a sola hike along the Savage River in Denali - the great thing about Denali is that there is one 90 mile road in to the park which is pretty much only accessible by park run buses, and you're free to hop off the bus wherever you want. ANd then get back on wherever you want.

So i reach the end of this little track and decide to climb this hill to the side of me - well it's more of a steep mountain but i don't want to go overthetop.

People who have ever walked with me before know i'm not great with big drops from any height, so they would be most impressed to have seen me scrambling up thisrocky bluff and scale this mountain.

And wow, was it worth the effort to climb a couple thousand of feet.

The peace and tranquility at the top, with the views of the mountains across the tundra below, was awesome.

Instead of calling it a day at the top of the first climb, i decdided to walk across the ridge and return down another mountain. Along the way, i passed the shrieking cries of 4 Golden Eagles circling around me in the gloom and mist that was descending atop the mountain (reminded me of the shrieks from the flying wraith like birds in Lord of the Rings!), lots of funny marmots perched on rocky out-crops surveying all around them and then calling a funny high pitched laugh to a fellow marmot across the mountainside, and magnificently horned Dall Sheep that i got a lot closer to than the peop,e on the buses who got ever-so excited about seeing one from about 1 mile away.

Anyway, i start scrambling down this rocky mountain, holding my breath and being sure to plant me feet firmly down in the scree. I choose to head for a clump of littble green shrubs about half way down the mountain, and to follow that down towards the road where a bus could collect me.

Hmmm

things can be deceptive i this land. Those little shrubs turned out to be bush, about 7 foot tall, closely packed together, and there was about 700 metres worth of descent through this stuff. It was not looking promising as i kept losing my footing with the steepness and inability to see the ground, nor see what was around me. Fear of disturbing a bear or a horned sheep made me stop a few feet in to this stuff and reassess.

I clambered on to a rock a few metres away and surveyed all around me. It was looking so close but so far. What should i do? I had to make the right decision, even if it meant me missing the shuttle back to the hostel.

I opted for safety and begrudgingly retrace my steps - at least i knew it was in the open and there was the comfort of rock to clamber over.

So i began the draining climb back up the mountain, and began traversing the mountainside. ALl in all it added about an extra 3 hours on to this hike and by the time i reached my initial ascent (now my descent) i shod all fear of heights and pretty much ran down the mountainside!

I was eager to get back down!!!

One bonus of getting thwarted like this and having to rearrange my plans, i met a wonderful couple - John and Britta from Washington state who shared loads of great tips about where to go when i'm there next week - as well as give me a ride back to the hostel as i would have had to wait about 4 hours for the next bus back to the hostel.

Oh yes, the hostel...

Tragedy in Denali!

2007-09-10T18:52:00.000-07:00

I lost my hat. My favourite hat. From Peru. From Phil. Trauma. I even know which bench i left it on whilst waiting for a shuttle bus to the Denali hostel. Grrrr.

Anyway, i made it north to Denali National Park, home of the mighty Mount McKinley...

Salty Dawgs

2007-09-06T12:38:00.000-07:00

We also managed to get to Homer, on the West side of the peninsula.

This enabled me to try out my tent for the first time, and not a bad campsite too. I was pitching up on the beach of Homer Spit - an 8 mile finger of land that stretched out in to katchemak bay.

More lovely sunsets, and a truelly crazy bar in an old lighthouse called the Salty Dawg Saloon where every available wall and ceiling space was covered in 1 dollar bills.

Throughout all this time, it was quite evident the reliance of the sea in everyone's lives. For livlihoods. Fod food. for fun. For friendships. For travel.

Homer reminded me of Amity Island in Jaws, all touristy and gearing up for the impending public holiday - labor Day on Mon 3rd in this case.

The local Pratt Museuam was fascinating, offering up real gems on the lives of seafarers (i have so much respect for them now), local tribes, bears, the 1964 earthquake that measured a whopping 9.2 on the Richter scale, and the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill that happened in this part of Alaska, all major parts of life.

I actually spoke to someone recently who went across the bay to do some bear watching at Haylon (?) Bay - the place where Timothy Treadwell went a camped every summer, and where he met his grizzly end. If anyone has not seen the film, go watch Grizzly man - it will put the fear of life in to you.

On the whole the Kenai Peninsula was lots of fun. Met loads of really friendly people. Met plenty of fellow travellers, saw some amazing sites, was blessed with great weather, and even managed to come across the odd couple of centuries old Russion Orthodox Church...

Even Captain Cook took a wrong turn...

2007-09-06T12:17:00.000-07:00

So we eagerly left Anchorage on the Seward Highway, where the oldest building in town dates from 1915. That's how old things are around here.

You head about 40 mile along Turnagain Arm a truelly beautiful stretch of road that hugs the bank of the coast. Here many moons ago, Captain Cook tried to sale through here to find a passage through to the otherside of the continent. He got halted in his tracks as it's just an inlet before you reach the Kenai Penninsula.

We stopped the car along the road to take in the majesty around us. The tide was out to reveal huge mud flats. Up here in Alaska, you get the second highest tidal range in the world, with a lot of beaches with ranges of about 25ft!

Yep, you really do not want to be walking out on those beaches at low tide, as the speed of the water coming back in will easily trap you and you'll get lost at sea. Mind blowing when you can see the strand line and the high tide marks.

Anyway, the skies were clear and the sun burning bright - two things none of us imagined. In fact in the two weeks that i have been in Alaska now, it's only rained on about 2 or 3 occasions - amazing considering it's the rainy season now.

We land in Seward, on Resurrection Bay for a few nights. It is a lovely, quirky little place, reminiscent of Northern Exposure - i saw one old lady on an electric wheelchair/mobil aid type thing with a sign on the back: Moose 0, Granny 1, and the Alehouse was frequented by local yound seafarers with much facial hair and jovialty. I've decided to join the natives and stop shaving. Grizzly Adams stylee.

Anyway, 2 real highlights of the Seward area have been the cruise and hiking up to the Harding Icefield.

Firstly, the cruise was a bit pricey so i was expecting a lot. I was not dissapointed. I fully recomend anyone going on a wildlife and galcier cruise with Major Marine Tours. Ranger Roger form the National parks Service was onboard providing excellent commentary - he looked just like Michael Moore, and Captain Dave looked like the police captain from the Poloice Academy films. Anyway...

The real stars of the show were the wildlife: i saw sea otter, harbor seals, puffins, a pod of orcas, and the big daddy, a hump back whale go in to a dive, waving its dorsal fin at us! Oh my god. I almost missed that one, as at that point we were in some 8 foot waves out in the open ocean and i was holding firmly on to the hand rail on the wrong side of the boat. Someone shouted that they'd seen the bow from the whale - was i prepared to risk being buffeted around the deck and falling overboard? In the end i'm glad i was, i caught the last site of of it. Blissful.

And we saw many tide-water glaciers. We stopped at Aliak Glacier where the captain switched off the engines and we drifted in pure contemplative calm watching the glacier do it's thing.

I've rarely said "wow" so often in one day.

I felt very lucky to be there. All very humbling.

I have some great photos and video footage i'll try and post up at some point.

The next day dale and I hiked up the Harding Icefield trail in Kenai Fjords National Park. a 3,000ft ascent in 3.2 miles - so it was pretty strenuous!

Along the way you walk alongside Exit Glacier a relatively small (!) 3 miles glacier in the park. The largest is Bear Glacier at 12 miles long and much much wider. Anyway, upon reaching the end of the trail, stretched out infront of you is the 700 square miles (yes, that's 700...) Harding Icefield that feeds most of the glaciers in the Kenai Peninsula. Struck dumb by it's beauty and majesty. No words can describe the grandness of whiteness of it all.

And at this point as we settle down for a spot of lunch, i came up close and personal to my first bear of the trip. About 60 feet away from me a black bear was going about his business....Oh boy.

Anchorage - shithole

2007-09-06T12:01:00.000-07:00

So i get to the Spenard Hostel in Anchorage, and happen upon another new arrival who happened to be on my flight, Dawn. from London - she's tells me she's spending 6 weeks in Alaska! i thought my 2.5 weeks was a lot.

We decide to head downtown to scope out what's on offer. We bump in to a lad who was at Dawn's hostel in Vancouver, a young lad from Australia, Dale, who was on the same Anchorage bound flight too!

As things really do happen, we all obviously had similar plans, so we decide (after making sure none of us were complete loons) to hatch a bit of a road trip and decide to meet up on the next morning to find out all the info we can on places and get a car booked etc. A rather nice surprise finding some travelmates.

Downtown Anchorage seems populated by the detrious of our planet in a painfully regimented street layout that runs west-east and north-south in the follow manner.....A and 1st street, B and 1st street etc etc They really spent some time coming up with some interesting names there...Ugly buildings. very low-rise, and then, plop, a high rise Sheraton or Hilton Hotel.

Anyway, there was a supremely helpful lady, originally from Hampshire, at the Visitors centre who provided us with loads of info.

We opted for a week's car rental and to visit the Kenai Peninsula (south of Anchorage) and to then get on a bus and visit Denali National Park for a few days afterwards. We had a plan....

That night we went to bar/restaurant called Humpy's instead of another recommendation from a zz top lookalike cabbie (Chilcoot Charlies - "it gets real rowdy in there...") Humpy's was rowdy enough thanks, and I now have a taste for Alaskan Amber beers...

Funniest quote of the day was a toss up between: "..Canadians, but humans anyway" or "I might fall off a glacier tomorrow"

They both kinda put things in perspective. One, like all nations, a little bit of local despisal of bordering nations exists wherever you go and it made me laugh just hearing that snippet, and the second kinda put our "well, i might get run down by a car tomorrow..." outlook in perspective. Things over here are that much bigger!

Cruising

2007-09-06T11:58:00.000-07:00

Here's a tip for you.

If you ever decide to fly out of Vancouver airport, never do it on a Friday when a cruise ship has just docked and its travellers descend on the airport.

Hell on earth.

The most scenic flight in the world???

2007-09-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

..So my last night in Vancouver was spent with some other hostellers at Jericho Beach just west of downtown, where we had some food and watched the sunset over the water. Very beautiful.

Met loads of great people and ended up going out for a few too many drinks with dave from bristol (who strangely reminded my of cousin Dave in so many ways...) and a lad from Melbourne, Mark. I told them that you're not supposed to eat the lime whilst doing tequila slammers but they were going to do it anyway...Unpleasant.

Anway, i left Vancouver the next morning with great impressions of the city. A place i'd definately like to return to and recommend anyone going to. Sadly my not-too-difficult mission impossible from Jo to take a picture of the city up from Grouse Mountain was beyond my capabilities! I lounged on the beach instead...

So the flight out of Vancouver and heading north along the Inside passage of Alaska's Southwest corner was just jaw dropping.

I luckily had a seat on the right hand side and with the clear skies, i managed to see with eyes agape the staggering amoung of glaciers and icefields and inaccessible mountain landscapes. 70% of the world's glaciers are in Alaska, and i think i must have seen about half of them on the way up there. Seeing icefields turn in to termianl moraines, the forming in to emerald green lakes, then cascading on to form gigantic rivers before spilling out in to the ocean was not a bad start.

I did start to wonder what i was letting myself in for though...

Broke down in Anchorage...

2007-09-06T11:40:00.000-07:00

Hello everybody.

I know some of you have been wondering where i've been for the last little while and why i've not been in contact etc.

Well the simple answer is that twofold - firstly, for some reason, my emails had been getting through to you nice and blank. Great. So that was out of my control. Secondly, i've been in Denali National Park since last Saturday - and there's not a lot of email access whilst camping in the middle of nowhere.

Anyway, i'm back on my own after travelling around the Kenai Peninsula with Dawn (from Twickenham, London - who crazzily is friends with a teacher at Ocklynge Junior School where my mum works...) and Dale from Melbourne. So i've had a lay over in Anchorage and am about to collect a rental car and head east, hopefully reaching Wrengall-St.Elias National Park, the largest national park in America - 4 times the size of Yellowstone if anyone can imagine that...

Anyway, i shall keep this post brief, so i can getr on and write up some of my other thoughts so far.

Hope everyonw is well.

Life here is, well, sunny, as i have a suntan!

But i've never felt such cold whilst camping. Summer nights shouldn't drop to zero in my book....

Go West!

2007-08-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

Hello

I'm sitting in the lovely common room area of the Hostel International Vancouver Central.

Been in town about 36 hours i guess, and my first impressions of Vancouver are really positive.

Anyway, back to the beginning.There i was waiting in my seat on the aircraft, hoping a local young person from Vancouver will come and sit down next to me. Sadly, a big fat sweaty Portuguese father of a particularly annoying little girl takes up residence instead.

I tried watching the film 300 on the plane, but after about 15 minutes of the homo-erootic terribly scripted swords and sandals flick i had to turn it off as it was too excruciating for me. Like the man in front of me who gave up on 300 too, I comfied myself for another viewing of Jaws. Excellent stuff.

Anyway the flight was uneventful, save for one small incident when the aforementioned neighbour struggled with the plastic bag containing his earphone - queue slow motion of bag popping open and the said earphones circle a few times in the air until the land on my head...

I made it to the hostel after managing to play the innocent tourist (with no great difficulty) and grabbing a couple of free bus rides - the Canadian drivers are very kind, like everyone else...

So even though i'd gone back 8 time zones i was still pretty wakeful so i ventured out and explored Vancouver in the glorious evening sunshine.

The city is quite lovely. Lots of work going on building-wise, probably in rediness for next years winter olympics, but the natural beauty of its surroundings is awesome.

Whilst i was walking along the boatyard, i happened to see perhaps the worlds biggest personal yacht - it had a helicopter docked on one of its platforms! Maybe Bill Gates or Roman Abromovitch are in town on business!

Anyway, after getting a bit wibbly with the onset of being awake just far too long, and deciding to cut a big chunk out of my left-hand middle finger, i went to bed, and woke up the next morning with Mickael (german - what was the score today?), Joachim (Swiss - just come in to town from 4 weeks cannoeing up in Whitehorse, canada) and Adam (A brit i think - he slept in very late...)

So, after a fantastic free breakfast here at the hostel i ventured out and headed for Stanley Park. It proved a goreous day for this long walk, ending up on a lovely beach for a spot of lunch.

Observations so far:

There are loads of Japanese tourists - i guess it's not far that far - all the youngsters look oh-so-hip
Loads of fit and healthy locals running around the sea wall in Stanley Park
I'm not looking forward to driving on American roads with there multiple lanes and being able to turn right when the lights are on red
I think my english accent is getting more pronounced
I feel pale and pasty compared to the locals!

Right, i need a drink and my time is running out on this machine so i'll bid you all farewell for now.

I've posted few photos on my Facebook page at the following address. Even if you're not a Facebook devotee yet, you can should still be able to view them. If not, let me know...
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=11817&l=b937a&id=627251728

G-G-G-Granville!

2007-08-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

Well it's just over a week before i depart and it seems that there is still much to do. paramount amongst my concerns are being attacked by bears in Alaska, malarial mozzies in India and Nepal and the state of me barnet. Truly shocking at present...

Anyway, my equipment is getting assembled and it looks like (to mangle a quote from Jaws) we're gonna need a bigger rucksack!

I think there'll be no room for clothes, so i'll stick to the one outfit i'll be wearing when i set off...which would perhaps negate the need to take cleansing products as i'll only well-and-truly hum...therefore i'll have new-found space for clothes...which'll mean a necessity for cleansing products...what would Yossarian in Catch-22 do?

What is booked is my first few nights in downtown Vancouver YH. Really looking forward to seeing that city. looks like it's in an awesome position, with interesting museums, people watching, and North America largest urban park - Stanley Park.

In a nice bit of coincidence the youth hostel happens to be on Granville St - a nice nod towards the stuttering Ronnie Barker in the classic Open All Hours.

Now, back to those nightmares of bear attacks...

In preperation

2007-07-28T18:12:00.000-07:00

Just over 3 weeks before i travel west. First port of call is to be Vancouver for a few days before heading north to Anchorage, Alaska.

Hmmm. The tummy starts to rumble with a little anxiety if i think about it all too much.

The around the world ticket is booked and paid for.

London-Vancouver > Los Angeles-Hawaii-Fiji-Auckland > Christchurch-Melbourne > Sydney-Mumbai > Delhi-London

Add to that trips from Vancouver-Anchorage-Seattle, Delhi-Kathmandu, and anywhere of any distance in Oz and that's well over 30,000 air miles i'll be burning up. I can see some major tree planting on my part when i've totalled it all up.

Anyway, so plans are coming along nicely. I have dates as to when i need to be at those locals. All very random stating i'll be leaving Christchurch on Jan 7th 2008. How the chuff will i know if i'll be ready to leave New Zealand on that day?!

When people ask who i'll be travelling with and i say may good self, they nearly all say "oh, you're brave."

Am i?

Do they know something that i don't?