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A Giant Drive to the Windy City

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Reflecting on a long drive in Chicago

Driving into Illinois, the final state for us on Route 66, it soon became clear that this was a part of America that is very proud of its links with the famous road. Much of the original route is still intact, providing the opportunity to drive along much of it while the masses of cars and lorries speed along the Interstate 55 which runs parallel just a few metres away.

Route 66 – and its replacement alongside

After lunch in yet another historic venue, the Ariston in Litchfield, believed to be the oldest café on Route 66, we were heading north on the final leg of this particular part of the journey, aiming for Chicago and the shores of Lake Michigan, the historic end of the road.

The Ariston, one of the oldest restaurants on Route 66

It was a drive that gave us many opportunities to stop and take in the some of the historic locations along what was, many years ago, the start of the route for people heading to better times in the west.

Stepping back in time

Its for that reason, perhaps, that the state of Illinois celebrates Route 66 with such vigour. All along the route, signposts, information boards and points of interest are clearly marked, a huge contrast to some areas we had passed through where at times it was difficult to even work out if we were on the right road due to a lack of signage.

We arrived in the town of Atlanta shortly before nightfall, the quiet streets bathed in the soft yellow and orange hues of the setting sun. A town of just over 1,600 people, the town is very much preserved as it was in the good times gone by, when thousands of people would pass through every year on the road.

Atlanta’s old Greyhound stop

As Ian and I wandered through the small gardens in the town, looking at the relics and paintings that adorn the walls, we were approached by a young woman who was also taking photographs.

Her name was Stacy, and she told us how she works for the Illinois Route 66 Scenic Byway organisation, dedicated to preserving, restoring and promoting the famous American road. The fact that there is such a group is perhaps why the journey was noticeably more enjoyable through the state. We chatted about where we had already been, the places where we had stopped, and Stacy gave us tips on where to stop off.

Big man and a big sausage

We said farewell, and Stacy continued taking photographs while the two of us went to see the giant. That’s right – a giant. Its known as Bunyon’s Statue, a 30ft tall man holding a giant hotdog. He once stood for 42 years in front of Bunyon’s Hot Dog stand in nearby Cicero, but moved to his current site a while back. He now stands tall, if you pardon the pun, in the middle of the town, close to the old Greyhound bus stop.

Bunyon’s Statue is one of the old ‘Muffler Men’, fibreglass statues designed to be used as advertising around the United States in the 60s. The original design was of a man holding an axe, but that got changed over the years so he could be appearing as anything from a Viking to a chef and holding anything from tyres and exhausts, to, well, hotdogs, depending on the business.

As we made our way back to the car, Stacy came back over to us. She could tell we were so genuinely interested in all that Route 66 had to offer, that she had been back to her car and brought us both a gift – a Route 66 registration plate. There was also a chance for a few photos with a genuine Rt 66 sign, before we said a final goodbye and headed back out onto the road, complete with our special mementos.

With Stacy, my gift and a famous sign!

By now, Chicago is firmly on all the roadsigns, the hundreds of miles slowly ticking down and the end of this long drive is in sight. We stopped for coffee at the Dixie Trucker’s Home in McLean,

Mixing it with the truckers in McLean

another famous stop along Route 66 which has featured in many guides, books and historic accounts. Its still very much a popular stop for trucks, with the colourful cabs all lined up perfectly as the long distance drivers took some refreshments onboard. They seemed to be a friendly bunch, peering out of their cabs and waving at me as I snapped away, clearly proud of their mammoth machines that they call home. Its one thing to be doing this journey for fun, but a whole new ball game to be doing it for a living. I could tell there was a great camaraderie between them.

Mean machines at Dixies

But we still had some serious distance to travel if we were to have a decent amount of time in Chicago the following day, and we drove on into the night. At Wilmington, just a couple of hours away from the end of the 66, there was one more sight to see – yet another giant. This one, another ‘Muffler Man’, is the famous Gemini Giant, named after the space programme and standing outside the Launching Pad restaurant. His space helmet may look more like a welding mask, but that is all part of the appeal.

Gemini Giant

After a stop at an old motel in Joliet for the night, it was just over an hour before we began hitting the outskirts of Chicago, and soon we spotted the famous SearsTower.

At the wheel into Chicago

Except, its not called the Sears Tower anymore – it was renamed the Willis Tower in 2009. For me, it was the most recognisable structure in the city, having seen it on so many films and television programmes over the years. We knew the Route 66 ended somewhere near it, so we used the towering structure as a point of reference to guide us into the city centre.

The Sears Tower guiding us in

It was strange pulling into the multi-storey car park we found, close to one of the city’s elevated railways with the noisy trains clattering by. We pulled into a space, and turned the engine off. For us, and the car, Route 66, bar finding the final sign, was over. A huge drive across the United States, from the southwest corner to the north east, had clocked up 2,789 miles on the car since I reset the trip computer as I pulled out of the hire car centre at LAX.

Some serious miles are clocking up!

We let the car have a well-earned rest as we set off to see the sights of the Windy City for the day, starting off with a search for the end of the 66. It was a walk that was to take us to the edge of Lake Michigan – as that’s where I had been told there would be some form of sign or plaque – but to get there we had to walk through the main gardens where there was a huge food festival taking place. Amid the smells and sounds of cultures from around the world, Ian and I set about trying to find both the official end to the road, but also to find the silver ‘bean’, a nickname given to Cloud Gate, a sculpture by British artist Anish Kapoor.

We made it to Chicago!

Both were difficult to find, and we both found ourselves walking around for a while, asking police officers and marina officials for directions. There were conflicting views on where the official end to Route 66 was located, but firm directions to the ‘bean’ structure.

A dip (of the toe!) in Lake Michigan

After dipping our toes into Lake Michigan, marking the furthest point we could go from Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles to the end of the road in Chicago, we followed the crowds to Millennium Park and easily spotted the shiny silver structure.

The Bean

It really is quite a spectacular structure. Its far bigger than I imagined, the backdrop of skyscrapers seeming to dwarf if, but up close it towers above the hundreds of tourists who gather below. Its impressive for more than just its size and appearance, which raises questions as to how such a shape could be built, seemingly without joins and construction marks, but also because of the unique views of the city reflected on the surface. As a result, from some angles the sculpture appears to blend in to the background, the edges blurred as the reflection blends into the horizon.

Weird reflections

Underneath, you can walk through and take in the way the polished surfaces distort the reflections, sometimes making it hard to actually work out where you are when it comes to spotting yourself on the structure. It also provides for some peculiar photographs.

Big bean

Said to have been inspired by liquid mercury, to me it resembled something that had landed in Chicago from outer space, something more fitting to a huge prop from a sci-fi movie blockbuster, but I loved it. It was welcomed by people in the city from the moment it was unveiled, and overall its loved by tourists. And that’s one of the reasons why it has to be cleaned down and polished twice a day – trying to find a nice spot for a fingerprint-less photo was easier said than done. But we’ll let Anish Kapoor off for that – he had other things to get on with, including a design for the huge red tower at the Olympic Park in London.

A storm brews over the Windy City

As we took the walkway towards the Art Institute of Chicago, we noticed the sky was rapidly turning a deep, dark shade of grey. A view down one of the long streets stretching into the distance revealed a bright haze at the end of it. It was a sheet of rain, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. We knew it was time to move, and quick. We headed back to Grant Park and towards the huge water fountains, the wind picking up rapidly and ensuring Chicago lived up to its nickname. Suddenly, another loud succession of thunderclaps, flashes of lightning, and huge blobs of rain began to fall.

Thunderbolts and lightning…very, very frightning!

It was a storm that came from nowhere, but drenched anyone without cover. The busy park quickly emptied of food festival-goers, all of whom had no dived for cover under marquees and tents set up around the site. Ian and I joined them, watching as wave after wave of heavy rain lashed down, and forked lightning lit up the sky. It was a storm that seemed to hover over Chicago, swirling around the skyline for around half an hour before slowly drifting away.

Grub up, under a shelter!

It was time that Ian and I didn’t really have to waste, but we made the most of the predicament by buying a couple of burgers from one of the park stalls and doing the best we could to shelter out of the storm by cowering under the small shelter provided by the stall’s roof and guttering.

As the rain slowed, our search for the end of Route 66 continued, again with various people struggling to show us the right way. After crossing the busy Lake Shore Drive for a second time, and with no sign of the elusive sign, we gave up and decided to head back towards the Willis Tower. We walked back up the road where we’d walked along a couple of hours before after leaving the car, and we paused to use some free wifi outside a coffee shop to do one last search to see where the road officially ended. After all, we probably won’t be completing the drive again anytime soon.

“It says its down here, in this street,” I said to Ian, trying to juggle a laptop, a phone and bag in the middle of a path full of business people and tourists.

And then we saw it. Up on a lamppost, about 12ft above the path, and what we’d managed to walk underneath completely oblivious just a few hours before.

“END – Historic Route” it said, the familiar brown sign we have been following from the Pacific Ocean.

We’d done it, we’d completed one of the most famous drives in the world, and we marked it with a photograph below the famous roadsign as proof. Our destination was reached, and we celebrated with a trip to the top of the Willis Tower.

Officially at the other end of Route 66!

It was yet another tall building to add to my list of tall buildings visited during this trip around the world, but this one is among the most impressive. At 1,730ft tall, it’s the tallest building in the United States, and with it being just a bit taller than the World Financial Center in Shanghai, it’s the tallest building I will have the pleasure of visiting during this trip around the world.

View from the former Sears Tower

Particularly enjoyable as part of the visit is the history of the building, being fed to visitors from the moment you first walk through the doors. There are a number of incredibly high speed lifts that whiz you to the top, to an observation deck 103 floors above the city. The view is understandably spectacular, offering views across Illinois and Lake Michigan to Indiana, Michigan and Wisconsin on a clear day. Amazingly, people at this height can even feel the building sway on a windy day, but thankfully the earlier storm had well passed by the time we reached to top of this iconic building.

Now, I’ve previously mentioned how the novelty of going to the top of tall buildings can wear off after a while. Well, the Willis Tower has done something to interest even the most hardened observation deck visitors – they’ve installed retractable glass cubicles that jut out over the ground some 412 metres below.

Sitting on top of the city!

And, even better, it costs no extra to step out onto the glass, watching as the edge of the building disappears below you, leaving just a thin surface of transparent molten sand between you and certain death. It is quite a feeling to actually step out, mainly as, with a fully transparent glass canopy around you, it genuinely feels like you are stepping out of the building and into thin air.

Vertigo, anyone?!

It provoked some humorous, staggered, nervous walks from others as they gingerly walked out over the drop. I looked down as the edge of this famous building stretched down to the ground below me. Ian managed to overcome his apprehensions about it too, and we got some great photos of us both in opposing pods. Stepping out of the side of the third tallest building in the world was certainly a memorable experience.

Ian on the Ledge

But we had to get back down to Earth. Our journey along the Route 66 was complete, but our roadtrip across America was far from complete. The Atlantic Ocean beckons – and there is plenty of driving to do if we are to make it on time.

We got back into the car and set out through the Chicago rush hour to meet the Interstate, and a long drive into the early hours across Indiana and Ohio. But on the way to the East Coast, there’s a special place that’s close to our hearts we need to visit…

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Gumboots and a Wellington Hoot

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Skiing Kiwi – the weather turns cold

It’s definitely time for some thermals!

Teeth chattering, and wrapped up the best I can with contents of my backpack that was more tropical beach than winter wonderland, I sat with Mem on the Magic Bus waiting for the windows to defrost.

A night out in Taupo

Russ, our driver, and fellow tour mate Thibault, were still inside Taupo’s YHA hostel trying to bring round Taylor, who, after a fairly heavy night that had only ended a couple of hours ago, would probably rather have been anywhere else but trudging through the frost.

Zzzzzzzz

Thankfully for her – and the rest of us, if I’m honest – we were to spend much of the morning in the dark. With thick fog outside, there wasn’t much to see, so a few of us spread out well around the coach and checked our eyelids for gaps for a while, before arriving at the Waitomo Caves.

The caves here are famous for the glow worm, a tiny creature that produces, for its size, a big light. We were driven to a farm and walked along a track, surrounded by some of New Zealand’s famous silver ferns, to a set of stairs leading deep down into the ground.

A national symbol

“Wherever there’s water flowing underground, there will be caves,” said our guide, adding that the caves are a constant 14 degrees Celsius. A cooling relief in the summer, and strangely, some much needed warmth on this cold winter’s day.

As we ventured past a wooden door, we entered the cave, our guide lighting candles every few metres. It was enough to show us our way, but not too much that you couldn’t see the illuminous creatures. It was cold and damp, and as we walked further along in the murky cavern, suddenly we saw something above us.

With the appearance of tiny LED lights, there were dozen’s of them shimmering on the roof of the cave. They weren’t bright, but once our eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, you could see them clearly, clinging to crevices and hiding in gaps between rocks.

You might need to look hard, but they’re there!

Below them, lines of a sticky fluid the glow worms use to catch insects, dubbed a glow worm fishing line. Rather like a single thread of a spiders web hanging straight down from the worm, once a mosquito or fly lands on it, it’s reeled in by the worm and eaten.

“It’s a bit like an alien,” said one of the group.

Glow worms and their fishing lines

As we walked further, thousands of glow worms lit the roof, looking like stars in a dark night sky. It was hard to get photos of them, but thanks to a mini tripod and by turning the flash off, a few of us managed to get a couple of images.

Drink stop

By the time we left the cave, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, with heavy rain and wind spoiling much of the view. We managed to squeeze in a quick stop at a waterfall, offering crystal clear freshwater that is clean enough to drink, before the weather closed in completely, meaning there was very little for us to see in National Park.

As a group, we decided to cook a meal between us and spend the evening relaxing at the YHA hostel in the park. Gustavo and Michelle, a Brazilian couple with us, were nominated to be chefs for the night, after Gustavo made a brave shout a couple of days earlier that he prefers cooking for larger groups of people much more than just for himself and his partner. It didn’t take much for us to persuade him to cook, and we found ourselves drifting around a supermarket collecting ingredients for a chicken stroganoff.

Magic mealtime!

The couple did a brilliant job – lashings of tasty, creamy stroganoff, piles of rice, a few beers and some Jim Beam whisky, infused with honey, rounded off what turned out to be a brilliant, and funny, night.

After three days on the road, it was time for the Magic Bus to head to Wellington, New Zealand’s capital, and where I will spend a few days before crossing over to the south island. It would be a journey that takes most of the day, but as usual, our driver Russ had a couple of stops up his sleeve.

The first was for a bit of wanging.

Now, while that may appear to be strange word for anyone outside of the north of England, welly wanging is infact a highly popular sport here in New Zealand. It goes by the name of gumboot throwing, and the small town of Taihape even has its own purpose-built gumboot throwing field. Russ was prepared with the welly boots (I’m going to stick with the English name for the footwear from now on!) and it was our turn at throwing the welly as far as we could.

What a wanger

Having covered a fair few stories on country shows and fetes over the years back home, I’ve done my fair share of wanging. I’ve quickly learn’t that underarm wanging is hopeless, and usually results in your welly either skimming along the grass and coming to a stop a few metres away, or being launched straight up in the air and putting your head, and everyone around it, at risk of a whack.

Russ had his own game plan – scrunching up the welly top, and throwing it with a strange technique that was a bit like a cross between the javelin and a discus. He did, however, get a fairly impressive bit of distance on the welly.

Next it was our turn.

“Just don’t get it over the fence and on the train line if you can help it. I nearly had one carried away on my last trip,” said Russ, telling us how a bizarre incident led to a flying welly clearing the railings at exactly the same time a goods train was passing by on the neighbouring track. We’ve all heard of ‘leaves on the line’ as an excuse for late trains back home, but ‘gumboots on the line’ would really take the biscuit, even by New Zealand standards.

Another lookout stop

Continuing south, we stopped for breakfast at a café with a small farm at the rear. There was also a small shop, selling crafts, winter hats and a few books. I spotted a relatively recent copy of the Lonely Planet for New Zealand for just $6.50, and decided it was too good a bargain to miss. I took it to the counter and paid.

A minute later, I had wandered outside to find the rest of the bus, only to see everyone petting a couple of goats through a fence. I walked over, and began stroking a lovely white goat before another, with one horn, came over for a bit of attention.

Suddenly, my newly purchased Lonely Planet was yanked from the bench I’d rested it on. I tried to grab it, but it was too late. The hungry one-horned goat had it firmly in his mouth. I somehow knocked it out, and it fell on the ground, only for said goat to grab it again, trying to pull it through the fence. There was a momentary tug-of-war, before both of us lost the fight.

The cover to my almost new Lonely Planet was ripped clean off by the goat, who stood happily munching the colourful glossy cardboard, while everyone else, who for a few seconds had watched the ridiculous escapade as it happened, fell about laughing.

There goes my front cover

“Awww, bro!” said Russ, eyes wide at what he’d just seen.

The guide is well read with lots of marks and notes inside – its clearly been around New Zealand a few times, and inside I found a receipt from somewhere in South America, so it’s probably fairly well travelled too. It’s been carefully looked after, a fellow travellers’ best friend and bible for years. Then I get my hands on it, and no more than five minutes later, without me even so much as having a flick through its pages, I’ve managed to get the front cover eaten by a goat.

When its on my bedroom shelf back home, it will certainly always have a story behind it as to why its so badly damaged!

He still wanted more!

Back on the bus, and by this stage of the trip with just four passengers on it, it had a feel almost like a good old fashioned road trip – except our transport was a big white coach. Russ had become more than just our guide and driver, he’d become a good mate too.

On the road again

Thibault, Taylor, Mem and I had been together as a group from the day we left Auckland, and were now totally comfortable having some banter and occasionally winding each other up. The journey to Wellington was an absolute pleasure, passing through green countryside and mountains while beach-hugging roads gave us great views of the coastline.

“The weather is stunning, I can’t wait to show you my home city of Wellington,” said Russ over the microphone as the distance signs by the highway show an ever decreasing number of kilometres until we reach the capital.

Wellington comes into view

With a few final sweeping turns on the motorway, the single lane carriageways long left behind, Wellington’s skyline came into view.

“And there’s my home,” said Russ, clearly excited to be driving us into his city.

Parliament buildings – known as the beehive

He told us that he used to drive the city’s yellow buses before getting his job with Magic – a move that he says means he’s showing his country to his type of people. Its clear he loves the job, and after showing us the main parliament buildings, he began winding his way up Mount Victoria and the city began to sprawl out below us.

At the top was one of the best views of my journey so far.

Wellington from above

Suddenly, I’m starting to see why people love this country so much for the scenery. With a 360-degree view, the whole area was surrounded by hills and mountains. The deep blue water in the harbour, complete with the famous Interislander ferry waiting for a berth at the docks below. Behind us, but below us, an Air New Zealand jet was landing at the city airport. To our left, the city was bustling, and despite the winds blowing across the lookout, we spent a good 20 minutes taking in the sights. Russ pointed out where he used to live, while also showing us where the main areas were to head to in the city.

With Thibault, Russ, Taylor and Mem overlooking Wellington

It included the national museum of New Zealand, Te Papa, which I have to say is one of the best museum’s I have ever been to. With a focus on New Zealand, its background, the cultures and its geographical and physical features, it’s a fascinating insight into the history of the country.

Te Papa, the national museum of New Zealand

The best thing about Te Papa is the way it has such a brilliant mix of interactive exhibits that appeal to all ages. There are great areas dotted around the six floors that are aimed at young children, discovery areas where they can get hands-on with some of the topics. There’s also a great use of technology, in particular computers, video and imagery.

Perhaps the highlight for me was the colossal squid exhibition, with the world’s only example of this giant of the deep that has been caught and put on show for everyone to see. It’s the world’s largest invertebrate, has the largest eye of any known animal (it’s the size of a football) and this particular example, caught in 2007, weighs a hefty 1091lb.

Calamari, anyone?

But the weirdest thing about it is the way it traps and eats its prey – with a series of sharp, swivelling hooks and teeth on the ends of its tentacles. You wouldn’t want to be a fish caught in there either – they are designed to dig in and take a stronger hold the more the trapped creature tries to free itself before being eaten by the colossal squids strange beaked mouth. This was probably part of this creature’s undoing though, as it was caught by fisherman hauling in a toothfish that it had decided to have for lunch. Somehow it had clung on from the depths and ended up on the surface.

The exhibit here has been put on display in a huge metal cabinet, and it’s a strange creature to look at and learn about. Scientists know that the exhibit is a female, and believe there are much, much larger specimens out in the deep Antarctic waters. Some further food for thought – if the one on show here was prepared into calamari squid rings, they would be the size of truck tyres!

My squid on his birthday!

Before leaving the colossal squid behind, I created one of my own as part of the exhibit. He’s currently six days old, and apparently passed an underwater volcano the other day. He needs playing with to keep him happy though – click here and search for ‘afishoutofgrimsby’ and I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you!

Te Papa

Aside from huge squids, there was a mock-up of a house that shakes to demonstrate what it feels like to be in an earthquake, there was a chance to go below ground and look at the rubber dampers that protect

Earthquake damper

Te Papa from earth tremors, a brilliant look at people of New Zealand with short videos detailing their favourite parts of the country, and even one of the cannons from Captain Cook’s ship that had to be thrown overboard near the country when he managed to run aground in shallow water. There were also a couple of simulator rides, cleverly synchronised with a video, letting you ‘experience’ more than a dozen activities New Zealand is famous for. It included a very tough game of rugby – the seats certainly jolt you around, but it was great fun.

One of Captain Cook’s shooters

I ended up spending the best part of two days in the museum, and as anyone who knows me will testify, that is a long time for me to spend anywhere cultural. But when you find somewhere so well laid out, interesting yet fun, and with some fascinating exhibits that can engross you for hours, it was hard to pull myself away.

A last shindig with my Magic tourmates

When I did, I was often with Thibault, Mem and Taylor, my fellow passengers from the Magic Bus. Our time together was coming to an end – it’s a hop on, hop off service, and for me it was time to hop off. Mem and Taylor head to the south island on the next bus, while Thibault heads back to Auckland. We went out for one final night out together, heading to the Base bar in the city. With such a great group of people, it was a shame we had to go our separate ways so quickly, and I think we were all a bit gutted to have to leave Russ’s bus as he continued his journey with new people back to the north.

Part of the beauty of this type of tour though is that you get to meet so many new people in such a short space of time. In a couple of days I’ll be heading to the south island too, with a whole new set of people to meet, but for now it was time to enjoy Wellington – and after some early starts on the bus, enjoy a couple of relaxing days in the city.

Days in Wellington

Sound like fun? Visit the Magic Bus website at www.magicbus.co.nz

All Aboard the Magic Bus

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Hello New Zealand!

Touchdown in Auckland

I’ve found a new friend to travel with for the next few weeks. It’s white, got a load of wheels, some snazzy photos along the side and has a friendly driver called Russ.

That’s Russ – R, U, S, S – not Ross apparently, who is another driver on the country’s north island, and who, according to our driver as he meanders his way out of Auckland’s busy city centre, has a much bigger beard than him.

Our driver Russ. With a ‘U’.

I’m on the Magic Bus, which has nothing to do with Paul Daniels or fluffy white rabbits, but will have a lot to do with me making my way from Auckland, at the top of New Zealand’s north island, all the way down to the white wonderlands of Queenstown and across to earthquake-hit Christchurch in a three week tour of the world’s youngest country.

Now that’s Magic!

I’ve been looking forward to New Zealand. As a fan of the great outdoors, stunning scenery and all things mountainous, all the reports I’ve heard about the place would suggest it might go on to become one of my favourite places on the planet. Time will tell, but with so many people gushing to me while I’ve been travelling about how ‘I’ll love it’ and how ‘it is so much better than Australia’ then the bar has been set pretty high. Either way, it should be a great few weeks.

After a couple of days in Auckland, which followed on from a few days in Sydney, I was ready to leave the big city behind again and head back out into the countryside. I’ve already started to like New Zealand just from the chilled out vibe to its largest city. Incredibly, a third of the country’s population lives here, with its main shopping area, Queen Street, running right through the centre of the place.

Great rooftop kitchen and terrace at my Auckland hostel

I had earmarked my time in Auckland as an opportunity to plan out exactly what to do for the best part of a month. It was ‘admin’ time, as far as my trip goes, and although there are a few things to see in and around the city, sightseeing, for a few days, went out of the window. Yet again, I had deliberately turned up in a country without a plan, to see what happens. I’m winging it again, but it’s a great feeling as an independent traveller.

This was time to sort myself out with a new phone number, do a ‘big shop’ at the supermarket, get some well-overdue laundry in a washing machine, write and upload a blog or two, reorganise my backpack (for a few weeks of winter, the shorts go back towards the bottom!) and even find time for a beer, a free one at that, thanks to an invite to a bar from a few guys I got talking to in the Nomads hostel kitchen.

In the midst of all that, I had a meeting with Mike and Bobby at the Magic Bus headquarters in the city, following on from an email I’d sent them a few days previous. Faced with quite an array of choices when it comes to getting around NZ, I had already spent a bit of time sifting through all the tour bus websites. Did I want to go for KiwiExperience, with their bright green buses and young 18-25 party lifestyle, with the smaller, more cosy orange bus of Stray, or with the slightly broader mix of people onboard Magic, that will still know how to enjoy a beer, but probably not force me into drunken games of ‘I have never’ the moment we leave the hostel.

Having heard good reports from my friends Dan and Laura, who I travelled with through the centre of Australia, and who had toured New Zealand with Magic, I was already edging towards the company. It also happened to be offering the best price, with a deal of $400 for both islands, saving almost $500 on the full price ticket. And then I saw an advert on the side of the website.

“Photographers and bloggers go free,” it screamed at me.

So from the comfort of my Sydney hostel, I sent off an email including links to afishoutofgrimsby, a bit of background about me, what I am hoping to see in the country, and attached a scanned copy of my column in the Grimsby Telegraph back home, based on my blog, that dad helpfully keeps sending me. It was short notice, especially over the Queen’s bank holiday weekend, but I figured it would be worth a try.

A few days later, I found myself in a meeting with the company in Auckland. Mike, the company web marketing manager, had been impressed by my blog and is a huge believer in people writing about their travels and experiences. I chatted through with them about how the blog began, my background in journalism, my experiences in some of the countries I have visited, even discussing the type of camera I am using. There was huge emphasis on social media, something I’m also a big believer in, and we looked at the map of New Zealand together.

I was offered a north and south island pass in exchange for writing about and documenting my journey with Magic, something I would be doing anyway. It’s a perfect example of ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ and as I’m nearing the end of my trip, any help I can get to continue the journey is gratefully received!

Devonport…looking a bit like Bournemouth in the British summer!

I left the offices with a spring in my step – I suddenly had direction and a plan of how I was going to see this faraway land. Better still, the rain that had been lashing down all day had stopped for a while, so I jumped on a ferry and made my way to Devonport, mainly so I could get a shot of Auckland’s waterfront, but also because I fancied relaxing for a while. It’s a good little traveller tip for coastal or port towns and cities. Instead of the pricey sightseeing harbour cruises that are on offer (the one in Auckland is around $45) just find the cheapest public ferry and take a seat on the deck. It was just $9 (£4.50) for the 20 minute ride across to the village, but it gave me plenty of time to get a few shots of the city skyline.

New Zealand’s outback!

So that’s how I find myself writing this in my seat on the Magic Bus, cruising through lush green countryside somewhere between Auckland and Rotorua. It’s a very similar landscape to back home, infact, sometimes I find myself comparing this part of New Zealand to Lincolnshire. It’s a grey, blustery day, with orange and yellow leaves still blowing off the trees as this part of the world heads into the depths of winter, and there are gently sloping hills to my left. It’s a very similar road to that between Caistor and Horncastle, maybe without the Belmont transmitter halfway along, but aside from that, the trees, fields, and even the cows and sheep remind me of leisurely drives through the Wolds.

Our first sightseeing short stop was in Paeroa on the way, home of a world famous New Zealand drink called L&P…

Precisely, I’d never heard of it either until I arrived on these shores, and that’s exactly why their tongue-in-cheek advertising slogan is particularly funny.

Great bit of advertising, and sums up the humour here!

The story goes that the town of Paeroa was founded during the gold rush, but then the gold ran out. It left so many people in the town, and so many houses to fill, that the townspeople needed to find some way of making people return. Someone found a natural spring of pure water, and would give it away to people in the hope they would return.

Stocking up on L&P

It worked, and not only did they return for more, people were happy to buy it too. Then another bright spark, as it says on their cans, decided to add a twist of lemon to it, making it even better. It went on to become a famous drink, and, according to Russ the driver, a self-confessed addict to the stuff.

Bizarrely, I don’t think it tastes that lemony, its more of a sugary, flavoured drink that you can’t really put your finger on the exact flavour. A bit like Coke, which is funny seeing as its actually made by Coca Cola these days, it is really nice and I can see how refreshing it can be.

Driver Russ’s attempt at being creative!

After a photo with the world’s largest L&P bottle, well, in New Zealand anyway, we were back on our way. By now, a few of us are beginning to chat and have a laugh on the bus. Its only a small group, mainly due to the season that we are visiting. It promises to get cold and wintry the further south we go, and with the summer starting in Europe and North America, this is the low season for tourism in these parts. But there was a good group – fellow Brit Mem, from London, who has recently completed his university, American Taylor, from Austin, Texas, Thibault from Belgium, a couple from Brazil, Gustavo and Michelle, and couple of girls from Germany, Elizabeth and Mel.

Group games at Hobbiton

We were brought closer by stopping off at Hobbiton, one of many filming locations for the Lord of the Rings movies in the country. Divided into groups of three for a team challenge, we were given some pieces of rope and a rubber tyre inner tube and the task of lifting three beers out from the centre of some metal rings without touching them. I was with Mem and Thibault, and as a group we worked out straight away how to complete the puzzle, but we couldn’t manage to get a good enough grip with the rubber tyre around the beers to lift it. It was neighbouring group that took the glory, and the three beers.

SobeRing Thoughts

They weren’t just any old beers however – they were bottles of SobeRing Thought, a brew of just 1% alcohol that was made especially for the actors in the films, to be consumed on set, to prevent them from becoming drunk. Having to drink it all day while filming scenes could cause a few problems at full strength, and with the winning team passing their prizes around the group, we all got to have a taste. It was a deep, dark colour, with only a strangely mild taste of beer.

With Mem, and a beer good for lightweights

A couple of hours down the road, we arrived in Rotorua, our stop for the night. It’s a smelly place shrouded in steam, but for all the right reasons – it’s full of geothermal activity.

Eggy steamers

The town is built on the banks of Lake Rotorua, where bubbling pools of mud, boiling hot water and crystallised sulphur surround the edge, and eggy-smelling steam belches out from the earth’s bowels below.

Hubble bubble, boil and trouble

I’m not going to deny it, the place does absolutely stink, but it was fun hopping around and over all the little pools that are bubbling away, all thanks to the thin crust of the Earth and the close proximity of molten magma just below the surface.

Sulphur

The lake is a strange blend of two colours, where the cooler, deep blue waters meet the shallower murky grey of the sulphur-rich edges. Even where the water laps onto the shore, the sand bubbles as water boils around it.

That evening we went as a group to learn a bit about the New Zealand, and in particular, Maori culture, at the Tamaki village, a half hour drive from Rotorua. Billed as the country’s most awarded cultural experience, it promised fun, humour, a slap-up feed and an insight into how the original Maoris travelled from the Pacific islands of Tahiti to discover the land.

Maori night

Even the journey to the village was an experience, with Mark, our guide for the night, saying hello and welcoming everyone in an incredible number of languages that he knew. From Thai to Taiwanese, German to Greek and even a bit of Aussie thrown in for good measure, it was a hilarious start to the evening as he made his way through the languages, complete with the different accents, and throwing open the doors of the bus to anyone that dared disagree with him.

On arrival there was a full Maori welcome, complete with big tongues, wide eyes and nimble feet, as the family danced around and greeted us as if we were the European invaders who landed on the shores here a couple of centuries ago. Making our way through a Maori village, we were told of the origins of the Haka, made famous by the All Blacks rugby team, of how tribespeople would become nimble on their feet by running and jumping over logs, and how they would pass the time with games.

Getting far to competitive (Photo stolen from Taylor’s Facebook!)

Somehow I ended up being volunteered to take part in one of them, a group game where everyone holds a large stick on the ground. At the correct call in Maori, I was to move left or right, and catch the next stick along before it fell to the ground after being let go by the next person along. The group of us was soon whittled down, and my competitive spirit started to shine through. Down to the last two, it was a showdown between me, England, and a tall Italian man. The advantage I had was that the Italian bloke not only had to work out what the Maori was for ‘left’ and ‘right’, but then had to work out in English which way both words meant.

It was a decisive hesitation. The call was made to go left. I probably sprinted a little to quickly for what was, in the end, a bit of fun, but I made it to his stick opposite me almost before he’d let go.

Winner!

I was crowned the evening’s champion, much to the delight of my fellow Magic Bus companions, and was awarded a photo with the game referee as a prize!

Dinner comes out of the ground

There was an hour long show full of Maori history, dance, singing and the occasional bit of humour too, before the hangi – the Maori meal – was served. Cooked by hot rocks underground, the chicken, beef and potatoes had a delicious soft, smoked flavour. Having been living on noodles and pasta for the past few weeks, and the fact that at about £44 for the night’s entertainment, most of the backpacker contingent set about demolishing the all-you-can-eat buffet to get our moneys-worth.

A Maori cooker…hangi meal and hot rocks

Two servings of main course later, followed by two very healthy doses of pavlova and ginger cake, I was tempted by another helping of the delicious meringue.

Chicken and spuds, cooked the hangi way

“I know we’ve only just met, but don’t judge me if I go back for more,” I joked with Taylor, the blonde American girl who is laughing and encouraging me to go back for more.

Then a whole new pavlova appeared. I would no longer be the one who took the last slice that was remaining of the old cake. My decision was made.

After a third slice of meringue, I pretty much had to be rolled out of the place and back to the bus. The journey home was equally as hilarious, and somehow the whole bus got singing Round and Round the Mulberry Bush as Mark the driver notched up around 10 circuits of a Rotorua roundabout. Apparently, although unknown to me at the time, it’s a bit of a regular joke that the drivers do, and with a few motorists beeping their horn, we made our way back to the Base hostel I was staying at.

Part of the Magic Bus gang. I’ve cleverly hidden my meringue bowl behind a plant…

It was a brilliantly funny, yet completely informative evening that for anyone newly arrived into New Zealand, helps paint a picture of its heritage.

There was more comedy the next day, although not from a comedian or performer as such. Somehow, driver Russ, Thibault and I managed to fall about laughing at boiling mud. Strange, I know, but it was something to do with the way it was bubbling, and quite possibly the noises it was making too.

Bubbling mud pool

We were at a hot mud pool near Wai-O-Tapu, the geothermal hot springs on the way to Taupo, and it really was something that I have never seen before.

Its one thing seeing pools of water bubbling away – as clever as it is that its all done by the power of deep Earth, you can still get the same effect by boiling a pan of water on a cooker – to see a lake of mud, so hot that it’s a liquid, bubbling away like a giant cauldron of molten chocolate, is quite something.

Blub!

With the ‘blub….blub….blub’ being interspersed with the occasional ‘sploosh’ as the mud suddenly gets angry somewhere, it was a great stop off. It was Thibault who first got the giggles, before Russ caught them, and everyone else followed suit. We walked back to the bus as if we’d been on the laughing gas that can be produced from some of these sulphury pools.

Funny mud

Have a watch of the short video I made – you never know, it might make you smile like we did!

With a stop at the powerful Huka falls, where there’s enough water flowing through a 10 metre gulley to fill five Olympic swimming pools every minute, we made our way through the lush greenery and headed south.

Huka Falls

It’s a peculiar view from the window at times – I’ve dubbed it the ‘lumpy landscape’ to the amusement of a few of the others on the bus. It seems to be the only word to use at times. While there are definite similarities between the countryside here to that back in the Lake District or Scotland back home, some of it is, well, a bit odd.

In places, everywhere you look are small rounded mounds. There are hardly any rocks on show, just smooth, rounded tops covered with bright green grass. It can look like Teletubbieland in places, definitely scenery that I have not seen before, and somehow the word ‘lumpy’ seems to fit.

New Zealand: Lumpy

Perhaps the highlight of my first few days in New Zealand came that afternoon, when Russ told us about Hot Water Stream in Taupo.

“Who wants to go? It’s free, and its pretty cool,” he asked us over the coach microphone.

Bath time for the Magic Bus travellers

We’d already been sold on the fact it was free, so with a quick drop-off of our bags at the hostel, we were on our way. Admittedly, few of us had got changed into swimming attire, mainly because its freezing cold and we wanted to judge it first before committing to swimshorts and bikinis. Afterall, if its more of a luke warm stream, its going to be an uncomfortable afternoon with temperatures already dropping fast.

With Mem in Hot Water Stream (again, stolen from Taylor’s Facebook!)

Russ was good to his word, and we found a steaming stream full of pools and waterfalls. The water was almost too hot to bear – getting in was like trying to lower yourself into a bath that you’ve run too hot. Almost painful, but done slowly, you knew you could get in. It was a great setting, almost like finding yourself in the River Freshney in Grimsby, surrounded by woodland and nature, but instead of an icy river, it was a steaming hot flow that was hard to climb out of.

Enjoying some waterfall warmth

It was beautiful, and with a few beers supplied by Thibault, we had our own natural and private outdoor hot tub. We took it in turns to drench ourselves under the hot waterfall, occasionally having to take some respite from the constant steam and heat by having a seat on the outer edge of the pool. Suddenly the freezing cold air temperature was a relief, rather than an annoyance.

Heading downstream! (Erm, also stolen from Taylor’s Facebook…well, she did have the only waterproof camera!)

We moved into a pool lower down, where the water flows out into the icy cold and fast-flowing Waikato River. Where the hot water and cold water meet, a strange sensation of having hot and cold currents running over our bodies at the same time kept many of us near the final hot waterfall. Further out, it was almost too cold to stand for any length of time, unless, like me, you’re trying out a bit of a practical joke.

Magic Bus group hangout

I think the afternoon was proof that we had truly bonded together as a group, and with it came some banter and jokes. I swam out to a particularly icy part of the river, and told everyone I’d found a really hot current. Elizabeth, from Germany, took the bait, and swam into the water that became colder and colder the more you moved away from the shore.

“Are you sure its warm over there,” she panted, fighting for breath against the cold.

“Positive, its lovely, so, so warm,” I shouted back, before secretly braving the cold and laying back in it.

“See, lovely,” I chipped in.

By now, Elizabeth was getting close.

“Its just getting colder,” she squealed. “Are you sure it’s hot?”

I couldn’t keep a straight face – nor stand the cold – any longer.

“Nope, only joking,” I laughed!

I got called something in both English and German that I wont repeat here, before she turned back sharpish and headed back to the warmth flowing from the stream, both of us laughing as we warmed up again.

Dusk in Taupo

We spent a good few hours at the stream, leaving only when the sun was setting and temperatures fell even further. We’re back on the bus tomorrow, heading out for more fun and adventures with our driver Russ, who rather than just being our guide and driver, has become a mate too. It’s like being on a road trip, but instead of a car, we’ve got a great big coach to chill out in as we watch New Zealand glide by outside. I think I’m going to enjoy these few weeks of winter.

Sounds good? Check out the Magic Bus website at www.magicbus.co.nz

Great days, Great Ocean Road

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Going 'Round the Twist' on the Great Ocean Road?!

I had a vitally important job to do before the arrival of Matt and Siobhan into Ballarat – a large chunk of birthday shopping.

Matt had messaged me on Twitter a week or so ago that he was relying on me to go out and buy a selection of pressies for Siobhan, who celebrates her 30th birthday while she’s away. He was unable to sneak away to buy some surprise gifts, so I was more than happy to help him out.

On top of the list? A cuddly wombat. Apparently, Siobhan had her heart set on seeing wombats in Oz, and after a planned visit to an animal centre in Sydney failed to deliver the goods of a cuddle with one, Matt was needing anything wombat-related.

Thankfully, my friend Jess knew exactly where to take me, and after a short ride I was at a Ballarat nature centre, complete with a shop selling all manner of wombat related goods.

Wrapping (innit!)

Back home, it was time for a bit of frantic wrapping before the pair of them arrived at about 3.30pm. It was strange to see them pulling up outside Nat’s house, which until now had seemed so far away from my life back home. Now, as I welcomed them inside, it was almost as if they had just popped round the corner to see me. I put the kettle on, got some chairs set up outside and made toasted sandwiches all round, which went down well in the autumnal sun.

Matt and Siobhan arrive to pick me up in Ballarat

It still doesn’t feel real to have Matt and Siobhan here with me, although at the same time, it almost feels normal. For almost six months, my life back home has been on hold, and feels so distant from the exciting life I’ve been leading on the road and from the almost mini life I’ve made for myself in Ballarat, with my own group of friends and way of life here. Yet suddenly I was talking about everything that was so familiar to me – everyday life in Hull, the latest goings on at Look North, the latest with the job cutbacks at the BBC, the mini baby boom that has suddenly happened in the office since I left… it was great to hear about everyone back home, and a reminder that in the not too distant future, I too will be back in the office and making the daily trips around Yorkshire and Lincolnshire.

In the meantime, we had a road trip to enjoy. With my belongings loaded into the campervan that Matt and Siobhan had hired, I jumped into the front and Siobhan drove under my directions to a nearby Coles supermarket so we could stock up for a week of camping on the Great Ocean Road.

We piled in a whole load of things to barbecue – chicken fillets, burgers and sausages, while Siobhan made sure we had a few greens too. I threw in some cheese-filled meatballs that I have discovered go really well with pasta and sauce, and after a stop by the milk aisle, it was on to the bottle shop where the real essentials were brought onboard…the beer and wine.

Matt does the cooking, while Siobhan judges the cooking on the telly!

We were soon on the road and heading to Torquay, the starting point of the Great Ocean Road and our first night stop. We pulled in at the Torquay Holiday Park, where it cost us $43 for a powered pitch for the night. We hooked up the camper, had a brew and pondered what to do for the night. It turned out that Siobhan, despite only being in Australia for a week, had become hooked on the My Kitchen Rules television programme, a kind of cross between Masterchef and Come Dine With Me.

Bangers for tea!

I must admit, it has become a habit for me to watch too, and Nat and I would often spend an hour catching up on it and laughing at some of the strange meals the contestants would attempt to cook. There was a television in the barbecue area, so with bangers on the go and MKR on the television, the entertainment was sorted.

With a busy day ahead, it was an early night as I settled into my tent and got tucked into my sleeping bag. Except it wasn’t my sleeping bag. Confession time – a few weeks ago, as Siobhan was clearly preparing for her trip, I got a message from her on Skype:

“Hey, weird question…my sleeping bag in a grey carrier was accidentally left at your house – do you happen to know of its still there? Did you put it in your room before you left? Last place I saw it was on the landing outside Matt’s room 😥 ”

Now, for those who haven’t been reading my blog from the beginning, the day when I left Hull was slightly hectic, and as I hurriedly packed seven months-worth of belongings into a bag, I had trouble finding my own red sleeping bag. What I did find, however, was a red sleeping bag in a grey carrier. With just a few hours before my train, I presumed somehow my sleeping bag had been taken by Matt by mistake – and so the only option was to take the remaining sleeping bag. Besides, it was far better than mine anyway, its bulkyness stood my big bag up perfectly, and surely someone would have said if it was theirs by now?

This was my reply: “Hello you…good news and bad news. Good news is…I know where your sleeping bag is. Bad news is….it’s on the other side of the world, attached to my backpack!”

Siobhan did give me points for honesty, but I’d have been a bit annoyed, and I admit I felt a little guilty. However, it was now keeping me warm as I laid in the tent, listening to all manner of wildlife on the outside. And, with a thin cushion bed, I listened to the wildlife for hours. When I did finally get to sleep, it was just a few hours before all manner of birds decided it was already time to wake up. My lack of sleep provided Matt and Siobhan with some humour in the morning as I greeted them with this sight.

Matt claims I look like a wombat...

There was some other drama aside from my scrunched up face too. Having spent the night outside in the Australian countryside, a place full of some of the worlds most delightful insects and creepy crawlies that can kill a human within minutes of the merest prod of their fangs, there was a bit of a shock as I delved into my rucksack. As I reached down for a pair of boxers, I noticed the glint of a shiny black spider as it wandered across the back of my hand. Needless to say, my hand didn’t stay in the bag for long.

I told Matt. “What? In the bag that’s been in the camper all night? Whatever you do, don’t tell Siobhan.”

There was then a secret mission between us as I moved to the barbecue area with a solid and clean floor to empty the entire contents of my backpack bit-by-bit onto the ground in search of the eight-legged invader.

Looking for Incy Wincey biter

Eventually, he was located. He didn’t look too poisonous, but then again I was surprised by how normal the bad ones look when I saw my first venomous spider here so far, a white tail.

Running for cover...

With said spider on his way for cover under a barbecue, and after a bowl of Aussie Weet-Bix all round, we turned out of the caravan park and onto the main road towards Bells Beach.

I’ve been looking forward to taking them both to this stretch of the coastline after my hugely enjoyable visit with my Ballarat friends a few weeks ago, where I’d tried my hand at body surfing in the huge waves. Sadly, the waves were not quite as impressive as they were back then, but still incredible to watch as scores of surfers hit the swell in preparation for the Ripcurl Surf Championships in a weeks time.

Hitting the surfing mecca of Bells Beach

With Siobhan overlooking Bells Beach

Infact, many of the grandstands and commentary positions are already in place, with teams of workers busily erecting stands and office blocks on the car park while the guys with the boards perfected catching the waves out in the ocean.

Surfer at Bells

We spent a good hour up on the cliffs and down on the beach, watching as wave after wave crashed onto the shore. It was nowhere near as hot as last time I was here, but thankfully the sun was out. It was windy, but that just added to the atmosphere as we took in the vast horizon of the Southern Ocean, knowing that the next landmass is Antarctica.

Waiting for the surf

We headed off along the coast to Lorne, but stopping off at a particularly famous lighthouse at Aireys Inlet – the one that starred in the Aussie kids television show Round the Twist. It provided a comedy photo moment, while Matt managed to fall over while trying to get a snap of Siobhan. She gave me a knowing look and a roll of the eyes.

Split Point Lighthouse at Aireys Inlet

Next stop was Lorne, where we had originally planned to spend the night, but the weather had turned and the wind had blown in plenty of clouds. In need of some lunch, I texted my mate James back in Ballarat with an SOS for a decent feed, and he more than delivered the goods.

“The bakery does a really good lamb and rosemary pie,” he texted back.

Now, when it comes to pies, Siobhan and I are huge fans, and it didn’t take much in the way of a decision before we found ourselves heading down the road and sniffing out a pie. It was true, they were particularly good pies, and my beef and burgundy more than hit the spot.

Welcome to the Great Ocean Road

Over lunch, with no sign of the cloud clearing and with little to do in Lorne apart from look at waves crashing onto a beach, we decided to head to Apollo Bay, a route which took us on one of the most spectacular drives in the world.

Plaque at one of the viewpoints

The Great Ocean Road is actually classed as the world’s largest war memorial. Surprisingly, it was built by soldiers who had returned from conflict in the First World War. They needed employment, and they also wanted to build a memorial to those who had fallen. Along the southern coast of Victoria, just a hard, rocky and almost impassable track joined the few communities hardy enough to survive in what was then a dangerous and inaccessible coastline. It wasn’t just the locals who struggled either – offshore reefs, rocky outcrops and rough seas earned the whole area the affectionate nickname of Shipwreck Coast, thanks to the high number of vessels lost to the ocean here.

Waves crash just metres from the famous road

So as well as a huge memorial, the road would become a vital link between the isolated communities, bringing benefits to the timber and forestry industries as well as bringing tourism to the south coast of Australia. Work on the road began in 1919, with around 3,000 returning servicemen finding work on the construction project. Conditions were still tough though, with dense bush to work through, cliffs to navigate and steep coastal mountains to work through or around. The construction was mostly down to hard graft- picks and shovels, explosives and small machinery. Many died due to falls or construction injury.

Matt and the camper on the Great Ocean Road

Infact, as I researched the road and its origins, I couldn’t help but think back to my time in Thailand on the Death Railway, the route constructed by Australian and Allied prisoners of war during the Second World War, just a few years after the Great Ocean Road was finished. With much of the road set on clifftops and mountains, the rock was largely chiselled and blown away by hand and explosives, much the same way as Hells Pass was made near Burma. Admittedly, that was through forced labour, and there were no Japanese soldiers waiting to beat the Aussie war vets as they made their memorial on the Victoria coast, but tough all the same.

The Great Ocean Road

A lighter story I picked up though happened in 1924, when the steamboat Casino managed to get stranded near Cape Patton after hitting a reef. In order to free itself, it was forced to make itself lighter by throwing items overboard. Those items included 500 barrels of beer and 120 cases of spirits, most of which ended up coming ashore right near where the workers were busily building the road. It apparently resulted in an unscheduled two-week-long drinking break – now that would have been one hell of a hangover when the dynamite started blowing again!
After 13 years of work, the Great Ocean Road was completed, and when you drive along the work of all those soldiers, you can see just why they thought it a fitting tribute to those who never returned to Australian shores. It offers almost everything that is good about the country – rainforests, huge expansive views of the Ocean, a formidable horizon, huge open skies, dense bush, an incredible amount of wildlife. Beautiful scenery as far as the eye can see, with each twist and turn of the road prompting another deep intake of breath. For once it wasn’t Matt’s driving – just fabulous vistas that are simply stunning.

A great drive

We made a few stops off the road along the way, with the dark looming skies providing drama in the photos of waves as they crash onto rocks. Galahs and cockatoos were flying around, squawking and making a noise. Road signs warned of countless different animals, and we passed smiling couples walking on the road, looking up into the eucalyptus trees for koalas.

Up to our usual tricks!

One of many coves on the Great Ocean Road

With dark clouds gathering, we spent the night at Apollo Bay, catching up over cups of tea and glasses of Aussie wine.

Cosy!

The following morning the weather had changed. The sun was out, the temperature was rising and it promised to be an excellent day for visiting perhaps the most famous part of the Great Ocean Road, the Twelve Apostles.

Matt, Siobhan and a great spot for brekky!

First, however, we decided to track back along the road we’d come along in search of koalas. They are incredibly hard to spot, but we’d found out there was a huge area we’d driven through where they are easy to find at Kennett River. We were keen for breakfast with a view too – the beauty of having a campervan means you can have the perfect scenic spot for something to eat or drink, and at a beach near the river, we ate boiled eggs on toast whilst watching surfers of all ages trying their luck on the waves.

Egg-celent views over breakfast

Siobhan went in search of koalas at a nearby campsite, and came back with a huge smile on her face after seeing two. Matt and I went for our own look, and soon came across one chilling out in the sun amid the branches

'Can't. Eat. One. More. Leaf....' Zzzzzzz

after a hearty meal of leaves. We walked further to come across a whole range of colourful birds that would land on our heads and arms in search of food. Next to our hungry feathered friends, another koala was climbing around on a tree. It was fantastic to see a koala in the wild after keeping my eyes peeled for so long out in the bush – I’d started to think koalas were just a huge hoax by the Aussies to get you to visit, sticking a few in zoos around the world, in the hope people would come to the country in the hope of seeing the cute furrballs. I’ve been warned they are far from cuddly though, so I kept my distance!

Ahhhh!

I made a friend...

...and so did Matt!

Aussie birds. Pretty.

Back on the road, our main destination was the Twelve Apostles, and we headed straight there, stopping only after hawkeye Siobhan spotted an echidna – a huge hedgehog-type thing – waddling around by the roadside. It prompted an immediate u-turn, but despite our best efforts to add him to our animal photo gallery, he took refuge in a drainage pipe. I quite liked the silhouette effect anyway…

A spiky character

We arrived at the famous coastline in the mid afternoon, the sun beating down on us although the strong breeze from the magnificent Southern Ocean kept everyone cooled down. Sadly, the sun was also in the wrong place for us to get really clear photographs of the limestone stacks, but we spent an hour wandering around the walkways and taking in the spectacular views. There were scores of people there from all around the world, many of whom had also parked up their campervan in the car park to tick this must-see formation off the list. Overhead, helicopters were buzzing around giving the richer punters a sight to remember.

The Twelve Apostles. Only, there aren't 12 anymore

It’s a strong reminder of how powerful nature can be – the stacks have been formed over the years by the powerful waves eroding the coastline. They would have all started out as caves, then into arches before the ocean took a further toll by causing the arch to collapse.

I guess that spells it out pretty clearly!

It’s left a series of stacks, some of which have recently collapsed into the sea, but its still an impressive sight to see them jutting out into the water. When you seen how hard some of the waves hit them – bearing in mind the ocean was relatively calm – it can leave you wondering how they have stood for as long as they have anyway. But then you realise that where the sea crashes onto the shore now was once land that has long been eroded away.

Taking a pounding from the ocean

One for the scrapbook

After Siobhan made cheese sandwiches all round back at the campervan, we headed further along the road that hugs the shipwreck coast, stopping for icecreams and coffee in Port Campbell before pulling off the end of the Great Ocean Road and into Port Fairy, where we were to spend the night.

Spotted on a sign at a viewpoint - and how to state the obvious

It was my turn to cook. And it was also the grand final of My Kitchen Rules. With the night’s entertainment sorted (the television programme, not watching my attempts at cooking) Siobhan lit the woodburning stove and we sat well into the night drinking wine and watching the television in the camp kitchen.

Matt and I having a shocker with the tent!

The wind picked up in the evening, and Matt returned from a visit to the camper to let me know my tent had been blown to bits. After a bit of shuffling it around, I spent a large part of the night listening to the gale and watching as it threatened to rip the cover off my tent once again. It was pretty chilly too, and I tried, largely unsuccessfully, to get to sleep wrapped in a sleeping bag, fully clothed, wearing a hoody and my outdoor jacket.

I awoke in the morning to hear Coldplay’s ‘Paradise’ playing in the neighbouring camper. Oh, the irony.