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On the flight from Christchurch to Auckland which preceded the flight to Fiji, I was sitting next to an old couple. I was tired and didn’t feel much like talking, but nonetheless decided it would be rude not to make polite conversation with them. I was engaged in light and pleasant banter with the woman for the best part of 30 minutes. Then the women stopped talking. I noticed she was now in a transfixed in a zombie-like state. Her husband asked if she was OK but she did not respond. Having recently watched “28 weeks later” I imagined her next move might be to eat our faces. I shuffled my body slightly closer to the window so that if this was how the flight was going to pan out, she would at least eat her husbands face first, giving be a chance to escape, obtain a weapon of some descript (possibly a plastic fork) and return to destroy her.

Her husband continued to try to get a response from her but to no avail. He called over the air stewardess (which I’m quite sure is not the politically correct term for them) and she instantly recognised the look on her face and encouraged her to be sick. Apparently there was a women further back on the plane who was in the same state.

There was no sick bag in her seat pocket, so her husband held out his bag under her mouth, She filled the first sick bag and showed no sign of stopping. The scene was now something between The Exorcist and Airplane! I was sure glad I hadn’t eaten the fish!

I fumbled around for my sick bag and held it under her mouth whilst she continued to vomit. Once she’d filled that one, she still looked like she had more to chuck up and as we’d now exhausted the supplies of sick bags in our aisle, the husband had to ask the person behind for one. So I’m holding one sick bag, the husband is holding 2 sick bags and I just let my mind wander back to better days when I’d be flying Business class and wouldn’t have to deal with this shit. Where the hell had the ar stewardess fone? This woman was still throwing up and we were running out of hands.

Luckily the third bag was enough for her to get it out of her system. And with us holding little bags full of her vomit, she carried on talking like nothing ever happened.

The connecting flight from Auckland to Nadi international airport
In Fiji was thankfully without incident.

I stayed the first night in Nadi, a place where most people just stay for a night when coming in or out of Fiji. It’s not renowned for anything in particular, nonetheless, the Resort I stayed was excellent; great food, great accommodation, great people.

From Fiji

And the weather was beautiful.. As I watched the sun set on the beach, I thought if this is the worst of Fiji, I going to have a pretty amazing time here. That night I sorted out a weeks Kitesurfing which would begin the following day, in a place I had not heard of. I looked up Nananu Ira in the Lonely Planet guide, which to be frank, didn’t tell me a great deal.

The Lonely Planet is generally an excellent guidebook, but every once in a while, it’s commentary or lack thereof does a place a complete disservice and you discover a real gem of a place off the beaten trial. I remember this being true of Haad Yuan beach on Koh Phagnan in Thailand, which turned out to be one of my favourite places – probably ever.

It was true again today. The Fiji Lonely Planet has very little to say about the Island of Nanunau Ira. I would probably never have having given it a second look were it not for the fact that’s it’s the only real place in Fiji where you can learn to Kite-surf, but before taking the little motor boat over, I had no idea what to expect.

Suffice to say, I was more than pleasantly surprised by the postcard perfect beaches and reefs; a quiet unspoiled paradise.

From Fiji

From Fiji

From Fiji

And so began my week of Kite surfing. Having flown power kites before and having some experience on a snowboard, my instructor had high hopes for me. I was in the water ready to start riding in no time.

The first time I lost my board, before I had a chance to bodydrag myself back to it, a guy in a passing motor boat stopped and threw it to me, correction threw it at me. With my hands still on the kite bar, I didn’t have a chance to react before it hit me square in the face cutting up my eye and nose. Of course, I didn’t realise my face was split until I started seeing red and tasting blood.

A kiteboarder has never been killed by a shark which is attributed to the fact that the shadow of a 12’ kite is bigger than most things in the water so anything that could attack would have to be pretty ballsy. But even with this knowledge, as the blood flowed down my face into the sea, god I hoped the sharks weren’t hungry.

From Fiji

The first night and the guesthouse, the locals held a Kava party. Fijian’s can’t really take their alcohol but they drink a lot of Kava, a mildly narcotic drink that makes your lips and tongue go numb and with continued, consumption, your head and the rest of your body until eventually, you pretty much just fall asleep!

It was an excellent week kite-surfing and chilling out, but in hindsight, it was a bit of a rip-off. I spent more in my one week kite-surfing than transport, accommodation and all my tours in the 3 weeks I spent travelling up the east cost of Australia, The owner was trying it on with the single female guests despite having a partner and a kid also living at the house. The bus driver was making exchanges of little bags of white powder for cash on the way back (I’m not going to speculate) and I incurred a manner of “hidden” charges. Nonetheless, It set me up with Kite-surfing for life and I guess that’s the price you pay for a little piece of paradise.

I then went back to Nadi and spent a night at Smugglers Cove were I stayed on my first night in Fiji to meet up with Caroline, a girl I met on Fraser island, who had just flown into Fiji.

Here is a little video montage of my time in New Zealand, which was mostly spent falling down in various ways.

See you soon.
Love “the woz”

It was a very scenic ferry crossing but it was overcast and bitterly cold so being out on the front deck wasn’t all that fun.

We drove off the ferry at Picton and headed south to Kaikoura which is pretty much equidistant from Picton and Christchurch (where we would be picking Gayle up from the next day). People mianly go to Kaikoura for the Whale-watching and seal-spotting. We had a Sunday roast in the local pub and I as I was eating it, I guessed it had been about 2 months since I’d last had one. It was OK but not as nice as mum’s.

We camped by the water and I took no chances, sleeping once again in all my ski gear (minus the goggles). Before setting off for Christchurch the next morning, we stopped to wander around the Seal Colony. We saw loads of seals (and sheep?) and as we approached what looked to be a dead young seal on the ricks, it immediately sprung to life and made assumed it’s most threatening position. I’ve never seen a seal attack anyone or anything but as it started hissing at us, I got the camera out to record some video footage of it whilst Oli, scared shitless, was running for hills.

From New Zealand

From New Zealand

After the seal spotting, we headed back on the road towards Christchurch, stopped only once for a coffe at a roadside restaurant. I ordered my new coffee-of-choice, a caramel macchiato which turned out to be the best coffee I had in my entire time in New Zealand.

We picked Gayle up from the airport and then headed into Christchurch. It was nice to have some new company for the rest of the trip. Gayle had just come from a weeks surf camp in New Zealand. She told Oli the day before that after spending a week with a lot of teenagers she was looking forward to coming over for some adult conversation. I got the feeling she would be a little disappointed!

After spending the afternoon shopping in Christchurch (I bought the “Powderfinger” album which I’d highly recommended and Gayle bought the new album by a New Zealand band called “Fat Freddy’s drop” album which I’d highly avoid) we stuffed ourselves silly at a Christchurch curry house.

I thought it would be a good idea to book us a powered camp site that evening as it was Gayle’s first evening here which meant I had the luxury of not needed to sleep in socks and celepets. Until now Oli and I had been sleeping side by side in the main bed, but Gayle’s arrival meant I got relegated to the top box. The top box was width and length of a double bed, not too much smaller than the lower bed, but it only had 6 inches of head-room, which made for some painful knocks on the head whenever I tried to get up in the night forgetting this. I now understood why the campervan was listed as a 2.5 berth – 2 adults and a small child. Still, opting for the smaller van saved us 20 bucks per day and if I really needed to get up during the night, well I could just piss out of the top window.

We roughly planned an anti-clockwise route around the south Island the next morning and set off for the next destination Hamner Springs. Hamner springs is kind of like the Roturua of the South Island, with a natural sulphur spring and spa resort in the centre of town. It also offers skiing although, it’s a very small club field and we decided to play it by ear as to whether or not we’d bother with it the next day.

We had a quick round of mini-golf, which thankfully I won as Oli had been kicking my ass at Pool during the entire trip and Gayle always beats me playing cards. Then we headed to a camp site where Gayle’s brother knew the owners. This connection scored us a free night at the site which we had all to ourselves. In the evening we headed over to the springs to chilled out in a selection of pools including the 40 degree natural sulphur pools. Felt good. Smelt bad.

From New Zealand

We spent the entirety of the next day travelling towards and then down the west coast. The views en route were stunning. It’s not often you see sandy beaches, green pastures and snow-capped mountains all at the same time, but this is how it was driving down the west coast. Breathtaking. Our next major stop-off was Franz Joseph glacier and we parked up for the evening with about 60KM to go. A very early start the next morning and a scenic stop-off at Lake Wahapo made for some amazing photos of the morning mist over the calm lake with the sun still very low in the sky.

From New Zealand

We got to Franz Joseph Glacier just before 9am and had some breakfast and a coffee before hiking to the foot of glacier.

From New Zealand

Later in the day we took a walk around Lake Matheson near Fox glacier to take some Postcard perfect photos over Mount Cook reflected in the water.

From New Zealand

The next stop was Lake Wanaka, which after survining the treacherous windy icy road known as Hell’s pass, we hit by the evening. Wanakais a great a little mountain town with access to 2 ski resorts. We spent a few days here.

From New Zealand

The drive to the base of Treble Cone mountain was pretty scary. It was thin, steep and winding unsealed icy road with a drop-off on one side that all but guaranteed death. There is also Inversion layer of cloud which as you drive through has very little visibility. So far, this was probably the most extreme thing we’d done in New Zealand.

After the first day skiing, I decided that with the patchy and scratchy conditions and another day on crap rental equipment, I really was over skiing. The next day I decided to try my hand at snowboarding. It surprises even me that I never spent a day on a board during my entire time in Whistler but with my course commitments and my eagerness to put it all into practise on the day’s off I had absolutely no desire to waste time on a board whilst the snow conditions were so good. So here we are in New Zealand about to try to learn to ride a board for the first time. But seriously, how had could it be?

Before my lesson, I went over to the magic carpet and Oli tried to give me a few pointers. It’s hard when you go from being able to ski anywhere on a mountain at speed to being an absolute beginner and it’s fair to say I tried to run before I could walk. I smashed up my coccyx. I smashed up my knees. I smashed up my arms. I couldn’t do it for 2 days afterwards. To be perfectly honest, I could barely move for 2 days afterwards, every bone and muscle in my body ached.

From New Zealand

From New Zealand

After Wanaka, we went straight to Queenstown where I spent the next 5 days haemorrhaging money. Oli and I signed up to do the the AJ Hackett “Thrilogy” – all 3 AJ Hackett Bungee jumps. I won’t bother talking about them here it’s all in the video. The highlight for me though was not the 143 metre “Nevis” jump (the biggest jump in the Southern Hemisphere), it was the bridge jump. If you ask, they will try – but cannot guarantee – to get you wet. Normally, people just want to touch the water,but I thought “why take half measures”. The girl in the bungee shop said to me “if you want to get really wet, ask for a soul man”. Despite my pleading, she would not elaborate any further as to what this meant. So when I was at the top of the jump I told the guy that I wanted a soul man and I had a change of clothes. He laughed and said “I’ll do my best”. If you watch the video you’ll understand as I did why they call it a soul man – the only thing that remains out of the water is the souls of my feet.

Back when we were in Wanaka, the final Harry Potter book was released, but the bookshop had sold out. This was of no interest to me, but Oli is fanatical about it, so when we found a bookshop in Queenstown that stocked them, he the proverbial kid in a candy store. We didn’t see much of him for the next few days. When Gayle suggested we go out, he, like a little geek, just wanted to stay in the van and read his book. Gayle and I got drunk in the kitchen anyway and discovered that there are actually a number of drinking games that do work with only 2 people to comical effect.

My perseverance with snowboarding during the time we were Queesnstown paid off. By the end of the second day skiing Coronet Peak, I was comfortably(ish!) linking turns down a blue run.

On the last day in Queenstown we hiked up to the top of the Gondola and did the Luge run twice. I span my trolley out on the first run and lost abysimally. On the second run, I would have won were it not for Oli’s dirty underhand tactics, running me off the track.

After having spent a small fortune in Queenstown we took the long drive to Dunedin where we spent 2 days, chilling out, shopping and unsuccessfully trying to spot penguins. Oli reversed the van into a low wall whilst gayle and I were eating sandwiches, which made him the but of our jokes for the next few days.

We were then going to head straight back to Christchurch for the last 3 days, but we’d heard there was a chance that it may snow tonight, so on the off-chance we stayed the night in Methven, just over an hours drive from Christchurch and the village that served Mount Hutt Skiing. The gamble paid off and it did snow overnight, so I put the skis back on to carve up the powder.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the light fluffy powder I was expecting. It must have only just been cold enough last night because it was thick and now crusty and very hard work. Nevertheless, it was nice not to feel like a beginner again. We skied again the next day, but with the precious little new snow already chopped up, I put the board on again.

The next day, we headed to Christchurch, filled out our accident report and paid our speeding fine, then headed back into town to finish our time in Christchurch as we had started it 2 weeks ago, with a big fat curry.

I had to be up at 5am the next day for my flight to Fiji. I said goodbye to Oli and gayle and jumped on the mini bus. Bye bye Oli and Gayle. Bye Bye New Zealand. On my own again for 2 weeks in Fiji to warm up and maybe maine myself a little kite-surfing . I just don’t want to think about the fact that this means there are only a couple of weeks left on my adventure.

For what felt like the first time in New Zealand, we did have some good fortune. We woke up to beautiful clear skies over the Lake Taupo. Perfect conditions for skydiving.

From New Zealand

We were picked up by a white limo which was a nice touch. We’d booked to do the 15,000ft skydive which is the highest you can do it from New Zealand. “All the way to the top”. Some skydive operators offer oxygen-assistance from this hight, but ours were hardcore.

The 15,000ft dive guaranteed a 60 second freefall. As we ascended to that dizzy height, I did begin to feel a little nauseous which I attribute entirely to the lack of oxygen, not the fear of falling. The freefall was an awesome rush although, unlike the bungee I did in Whistler, at no point did I fear I was going to die. The initial jump out of the plane was the hardest part, but being strapped to an instructor made me feel very secure. Additionally, he was the one that controlled when we jumped out of the place… with a bungee, you have to make the conscious decision to step or jump over the ledge yourself. That said, it didn’t stop Oli holding on to the sides of the plane door for dear life whilst the instructor tried to push him out. I was lucky because with me and my instructor, was another instructor doing a solo dive with a camera attached to his head and taking footage for a promotional video. This was an awesome little bonus as we dot a chance to dive around each other, grabs hands, spin round e.t.c. It wasn’t until after the parachute opened that I was able to take in the awesome views over Lake Taupo. See the “Falling in New Zealand” video for footage from my skydive,

From New Zealand

After the skydive, we drove round the lake and through the mountain range to Whakapapa for some skiing. The drive was breathetaking. (there is some footage of it in the video but it really doesn’t do it justice).

Once we’d sorted out our equipment and lift ticket that evening, we set up camp in Whakapapa. We’d had a tip-off that the lift’s may be “unofficially” opening at 7.30 the next morning even though the advertised opening time was 9am. Being close to the mountain would mean would could get a head start on the rest of the weekend crowd, but we knew it would be a cold night if we didn’t stay at a powered camp-site so we could plug in the heater. So far though, we had not plugged in the van at all and we had to survived, so it was going to be interesting to see just how cold we could “comfortably” camp.

Before going to bed, I dressed for a days skiing. 3 layers on top, wooley hat, and the ski trousers that I had brought in Hamilton for approximately £25. As I was trying to fall asleep, it was so cold, I could see my own breathe. When we got up at 7am, the condensation on the inside of the van had frozen! It really was that cold. I was amazed that the ants which had been living with us in the van since the beginning of the trip were still alive.

The early start paid off through. For nearly 2 hours we had the mountain to ourselves, a benefit we didn’t fully appreciate until we head back into the main system at 10am and hit 10+ minute queues.

From New Zealand

Conditions were far from ideal though with anything off the groomed runs being icy, patchy and scratchy. It was nice to be on skis again and rekindle an old flame with a pair of rented K2 Apache Crossfires, the same ski’s that I trashed a couple of years ago in Les Deux Alps. Twice. It was also nice to have the mountain that all “Lord of the Rings” fans would recognise as Mount Doom as the backdrop.

From New Zealand

From New Zealand

I couldn’t help but think to myself though “This place is no Whistler”.

That night, for the first night on the trip so far, we stayed in a powered camp site in Palmerston North. We would have probably braved another night in the cold, but by this point we really needed to refill the empty water tank and wash some clothes.

We were going to go out to a pub in town to watch the rugby, but when Oli came back after collecting the washing to find me lying down with the heater at my feet and a glass of red wine in my hand, it was clear that I wasn’t going to be moving much more tonight.

The next morning we set off for Wellington, New Zealand’s capital and our final destination on the north Island. Wellington certainly wasn’t what I was expecting from New Zealands capital. It was small and walkable understated. It had a great harbour. It all made sense. I liked it. Oli was particularly pleased he found a Welsch pub. The writing on the sign claimed that it was “The only Welsch pub in the Southern Hemisphere”. Although it was early afternoon and the pub wasn’t open, it looked to me like the place had been closed for years. I took him to an Irish pub for lunch.

From New Zealand

Upon returning to the van and finding a new army of ants on the dashboard, Oli decided he’d had enough of the ants (I think he’s scared of them) and he called the van hire place who organised a change of van for the next morning.

After driving up and down the coast a few times to assess the camping-spots by the side of the road that we would be least likely to get moved on by the police, we decided to be bold and park right near the harbour.

We changed the van the next morning to find that our replacement van had been driven all the way from Auckland through the night (even though there was a depot in Wellington!), we drove onto the ferry and waved goodbye to the North Island and crossed the calm water in anticipation of even colder temperatures in the South Island.

As we drove back through Auckland, I was annoyed to be seeing the city again, having achieved nothing in the 2 days since we left.

Oli had a friend that lived in Hamilton, 1.5hours south of Auckland so he called to see if he was around and ask if we could park the van outside his house that night. It all worked out, so we spent the evening with him and his girlfriend drinking a combination of the god-awful beers we had bought in Auckland and the much nicer beers that he had in his fridge.

It was another bloody cold night but this time I decided to sleep fully clothed with the addition of my beer jacket so the chill was not quite as cutting as the previous night, but the hangover was worse.

The next morning, we had planned an exciting day… A morning surfing in the massively hyped up town of Raglan and and afternoon Black water rafting in the Waitomo caves, famous for their, er, glowmorms.

The drive to Raglan was spectacular. Everywhere looked like a set from the Lord of the Rinds. Every green hill could have been the Shire. Even the State Highways in New Zealand (which certainly isn’t a highway by most other Western countries standards) are some of the most beautiful and scenic drives I’ve ever known. Driving around New Zealand isn’t just a way of getting from A to B – it’s something that is actually massively enjoyable. you’d almost pay money just for the drive.

From New Zealand

Anyway, once we hit Raglan, we had yet another massive disappointment. Absolutely no surf. I’m not just talking about little waves. There were no waves. The sea was so calm, you could see a clear reflection of the surrounding landscape in the. As we drove through the little surf-town of Raglan, it was clear that this would be a very cool place to spend some time, were there actually anything to do here except surfing. But with no surf, there were no people. As was becoming something of a recurring pattern, we walked into the coffee shop to find ourselves the only customers, ordered our coffee, drank our coffee and left the place empty once again.

We took a back road to Waitomo so that we could have a scenic stop-off at the Bridle Veil falls. As we tried to make our way on foot to the base of the waterfall our path was blocked “for maintenance and path improvement”. It seemed to me that there were dark forces at work to make our journey through New Zealand as difficult and full of obstacles as is humanly possible.

So we got back in the van and headed to Waitomo on a back road that was more like a rally course. Fittingly, by the time be arrived, the van was covered in so much mud, it actually looked like we HAD been rallying it.

Fortunately, the “legendary black water rafting experience”, was pretty worthwhile. It essentially entailed riding down a river in an underground cave system on a rubber ring. The highlights were riding over a couple of small waterfalls, and riding without our helmet lights on in complete darkness through a huge cave lined by glow-worms which looked like little blue stars lighting the night sky. It almost would have been tranquil maybe even serene were it not for the fact that it was soo very very cold.

After warming up with a shower and a bowl of soup, we headed back to Hamilton for another night so that Oli could meet up with his distant relations the next day. We parked outside his friends again and spent the first part of the next morning sorting out activities and administrative things on the net such as the ferry crossing from the north to the south island and most importantly booking a skydive in Lake Taupo, the world capital of skydiving.

Oli’s relatives took us out for lunch, which was very nice of them. Then we set out on the road again to Lake Taupo via Roturua. We knew when we were getting close to Roturua because it absolutely stunk. Roturua is famous for the natural sulphur pools and springs which seem to pop up everywhere in and around the town. I mean literally everywhere. I took a photo of a sulphur spring venting steam in someone’s back garden. We could have stayed in Rotorua, but the smell the sulphur (sort of like fart mixed with rotten egg) was more than enough motivation to keep moving. And besides, we had a skydive booked in Lake Taupo the next day.

From New Zealand

We arrived in Taupo as the sun was setting and parked the camper right on the Lake for million dollar views of the lake. There were “no camping” signs everywhere, but a local had told us that we would be fine. The skies were clear and if it held, it would be an absolutely perfect day for skydiving. Surely we were long overdue a little bit of good fortune on this trip?

The Northlands - Auckland and everything after

Auckland was wet and rainy. We went in search of a beer and maybe a burger joint, but at 8pm on a Sunday night, it’s fair to say the city was pretty lifeless and finding a decent looking pub was much harder than you might think in New Zealand’s financial capital.

We had just followed the Lonely Planet guide to the biggest cluster of places-of-interest of the central Auckland map. Predictably, it lead us to a Starbucks, an STA travel and an Irish pub, all of which were open but empty.

We gravitated towards the Sky Tower, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere where I took my only photo in Auckland. Had we just ended up in the wrong part of Auckland or was the whole city this dead after 5pm? We ended up heading right back to the YHA not before picking up some medicinal beers from the off-licence opposite.

From New Zealand

The next morning, the weather was crap, I’d already decided I didn’t really like Auckland, or at least couldn’t be assed hanging around in a cold city, so we headed north to the Bay of Islands.

It was a log drive, and after a couple of stop-offs, it was dark when we arrived in Paihia. The place was dead. I began to realise that coming to New Zealand in the off-season could mean that much of the North Island might well be like this.

After cooking our first camper-van meal, we parked up in a random car-park and went to bed. I woke up many times through the night very cold, which was not ideal given I still had a stinking cold but fortunately (for Oli more than me perhaps) my coughing fits had started to subside.

The Lonely Planet describes the Bay of Islands as “a winterless wonderland”. We woke up to torrential flooding, storms and rain. It was clear that there would be no boats sailing the Bay of islands today. It was clear the the lonely planet was full of shit.

Before we left, we took a photo of the Bay of Islands. It’s by no means postcard perfect. In fact I think this could possibly be the worst photo of the Bay of Islands ever and this time it was nothing to do with my photography skills. Here it is!

From New Zealand

We thought it might be a good idea to keep headed north to Cape Reigna at the very top. For one, it would be closer (ok, not much) to the equator so might be warmer, but also meant we could indulge ourselves in the usual tourist attractions of the north island; driving the 90 mile beach and sandboarding on the dunes. Also, driving north meant we would have a second chance to visit the Bay of Islands on the way back down and hopefully then the weather would have improved.

Well, after driving 80km further north, there was no sign of the storms letting up. Even our little camper van was shaking all over the road in the winds. If anything, it was getting worse. We got to the point where the road was flooded (this is not just a back road by the way, this is State Highway 1). As we attempted to drive through the flooded road, 2 cars, that we coming the other way stopped us to say “it’s all flooded further North. Go back while you still can”.

So that’s what we did. Drove all the way back down to where we started. 2 wasted days and all we had to show for it was very unique photo of the Bay of Islands and a $140 speeding ticket that Oli managed to obtain whilst I was sleeping in the passenger seat.

From New Zealand

What a horrible horrible way to start my New Zealand travels… arriving at Auckland international airport at 2.30a.m. with a chest infection and stinking cold.

I always knew I’d be arriving late, but had the flight not been delayed by 4 hours, I would have at least been able to say hello to the people I’d be sharing a dorm room with rather than being ushered into an anonymous space in the dark at 3am.

I’d booked a bed in a dorm room at the Kiwi Airport Hostel on the grounds that it was cheap and close to the airport as I need to go back the next day to meet Oli when he landed. I’ll never make that mistake again. On your first night in a new country never stay anywhere with either the words “airport” or “hostel” in the title.

I didn’t have the heart to turn the light on in the room, but the street light filtered through the thin curtain provided just about enough light for me to be able to about make out 4 other bodies in the room.

I headed in the general direction I was ushered towards and found an empty bed. I just dumped my bags and got straight into bed. Great. Some fucker had stolen my pillow. I pressed a button to illuminate my mobile phone (the modern man’s torch) and shone it around the room to try to identify the pillow thief. I narrowed my investigations down to 2 suspects, but due to the awkward way they both had their duvets over their heads, there wasn’t enough evidence for me to warrant waking up either of them. I just rolled up my jumper to act as a make-shift piloow and pulled the cover over me.

Then it started. A violent uncontrollable coughing fit. I tried to swallow it out, but it was no good. 20 minutes later, I was still going and heard angry sighs from different direction in at least 3 different pitches so I was pretty sure I’d woken up everyone in the room. There was so sign of my coughing letting up. I just need to get out. So I grabbed all my stuff and got the hell out of dodge.

Now at 3.30am, I had left the hostel and at great expense, checked myself into a hotel room so that I could continue my coughing fit in private. By the time I eventually got to sleep, it was light outside and check-out time only hours away. I think the only time people would ever check themselves into a hotel and spend less time there than I did that night would be if you’d just picked up something from the red-light district.

I spent most of the next day back in the airport terminal awaiting Oli’s arrival, drinking potentially fatal quantities of caffeine and forever blowing my nose on the toilet roll I’d taken from the hotel last night (along with soap, shower gel, tea bags, instant hot chocolate sahets and anything else that was free-to-take to justify to the expense of staying there). I was feeling crap and the news that Oli’s flight was delayed by 2 hours was massively annoying as it meant he would arrive after the van hire place closed. That meant I’d have to pick it up myself then we’d have to drive back the next day to get him added as a driver.

So I picked up the van, my home for the next 3 weeks, had another couple of cups of coffee and then went back to the airport to pick Oli up.

From New Zealand

After an accidental detour round the suburbs, wastelands and industrial parks of Auckland we arrived in the city centre and parked up at the YHA where i’d booked a twin share room for the night so that only Oli would have to suffer my coughing fits.

OK i’m finally catching up with by blogging. Now it’s time for a very different kind of adventure; exploring New Zealand and going to extremes in a camper van with Oli and Gayle. I been trying hard to get the blog up to date and I’m finally getting there. The new banner at the top of my web site is a real unedited photo from the base of Treble Cone mountain New Zealand…. Looks amazing, doesn’t it. And the van in the photo is our camper (and our home). It’s actually the second camper van as we had to get the first one replaced. Find out why soon on thewoz.co.uk!!

From New Zealand

Just one more stop before I would hit my final destination in Australia; Mission beach. I stopped off at Mission Beach for one reason. It was the best place to do extreme white water rafting. Mission beach is arguable also the best place in Australia to Skydive from for the views of the Great Barrier Reef but I was saving this adrenaline hit for New Zealand.

As I checked into the luscious “Backpacker resort”, I realised this was the first time in a quite while I was on my own again. I would most likely be seeing Morten and Stein and Sarah and Harriot in Cairns but they were going straight there.

I didn’t really meet anyone in Mission beach, mostly because I didn’t make any kind of effort to. I endulged myself with with a delicious rare Kangaroo steak and then got an early night in anticipation of white water rafting the next day.

I not sure I was really in the right mindset for white-water rafting. It would certainly be a nice induction to the my forthcoming extreme adventures in New Zealand, but after being overwhealed by the natural beauties of Australia as I worked my way up the coast (I am of course referring to the lush landscapes and scenery, not just the women), white water rafting just seemed a bit too much like hard work.

Nevertheless it was a good day. I screamed like a girl as we made our way down some of the steeper rapids (grade 5 if that means anything to you) and as I’d chosen the “extreme” package, our group got thrown down a rapid WITHOUT a raft. I was submerged underwater for about 10 seconds which doesn’t sound like long, but when you can’t get your breath and your body is being constantly thrown against rocks, it feels like a lifetime. We also jumped off a 20’ rock which was scarier than it should have been.

From End of Aus

From End of Aus

After the rafting, I slipped the driver of the coach $10 to take me all the way to Cairns where I would spend my last 2 nights.

The Hostel that I was staying at in Cairns was probably the nicest I’d stayed at so far. I splashed out to treat myself to my own room, although needn’t had bothered as I spent so little time there. As chance would have it Morten and Stein checked in at the same time as me.

My time in Cairns was spent drinking, watching live music, chilling by the lagoon, getting my hair cut at a dodgy barbers and drinking copious amounts of coffee. I met up with Sarah and Harriot on the second night who had just come back from a 2 day cape tribulation tour.

I really wanted to head to Cape Tribulation and do some more diving on the Great Barrier Reef but alas, I had run out of time in Australia. I could have easily spent weeks longer.

And that brings me to the end of my adventures in Australia. If you missed it in my previous post, here is the video which shows some of the highlights of the trip.

I miss you all loads. Love the woz.

The name of the island came about because of the apparent “magnetic” effect it had on the ship’s compass of Captain Cook as he passed the island when sailing up the east coast of Australia in 1770. People have since explored the general area of Magnetic Island with various instruments to discover whatever it was magnetic like Cook experienced, but nothing has been discovered. I did wonder though, if this place was a source of inspiration for the creators of the TV show, “Lost”.

I wasn’t planning to go to Magnetic Island as I only had one night free and it seemed like a wasted journey. I already had my accommodation booked in Townsville, the mainland connection to the Island. However several people had already told me that Townsville was just a big army town and a bit of a dump. This didn’t put me off though, it sounded just like Colchester, my birthplace and spiritual home. But Sarah and Harriot who I’d been travelling with for about a week now were going, James and Miranda were going, and Morten and Stein were going, so Magnetic Island seemed like the right move.

Yet again, it was another beautiful day (the sunshine state living up to it’s name), and just the ferry crossing over was enough to make the it worthwhile. I mostly chilled out on the beach once we got there and slept off a hours worth of my monster hangover from the Whitsunday after-partylast night.

By evening I was feeling a little more sociable and had a couple of drinks on the beach-fronted dining / drinking area out the back of our accommodation. If I was on the west coat, this would have been an idyllic location to watch the sun set. But I wasn’t on the west coast; I was on the east coat. However, as the sun set somewhere on the other side of the world, the skies in front of us were kaleidoscopic. Ever minute, the colours changed. It was spectacular to watch.

From End of Aus

Just after I finished eating an awesome curry, something unexpected happened. Out of nothing, a full moon rose over the Horizon, leaving a million mile reflection across the sae all the way to the shore in front of us. I’ve never seen the moon rise over the horizon, or move with such pace. The stars and the somehow seem bigger and brighter in the southern hemisphere.

From End of Aus

I slept well that night in a lovely little beach hut on the boulevard of beach huts.