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Sailing Croatia 2019

September 20, 2019 / terry

The much awaited day of boarding our two week charter yacht arrived. We were not due to board until 4pm so we had plenty of time for last minute supplies and a general relax. Fortunately, our Air BnB hosts in Trogir were happy for us to stay as late as we needed. With all the gear and provisions, we deemed it best to get transport to the marina. While we were in the process of getting an Uber, our host kindly offered a lift in her mother’s car. Christine, Helen and all the luggage were squeezed into the car and Mario and I walked across the island to the ACI Marina.

We entered the charter office in high spirits but the end of a long summer charter season was reflected in the manager’s eyes, along with dollar signs. He skipped through the necessary papers as quickly as possible to get to the money part, where huge piles of cash seemed to mount up in front of him, all of it ours.

We located our boat, aptly named “Aquaholic” and met our skipper, who announced that we were sailing in half an hour. This was news to us because our instructions were that we were to spend the first night in Trogir. In hindsight, this would have been the best thing because it would give a good chance to thoroughly go through all the things about the boat while there was at least a slight chance of having problems rectified. One of the difficulties in chartering at the end of a season is that the little unattended maintenance issues mount up and as the cruise progressed, we were to discover the hatches that leaked, the lights that didn’t work and the plumbing issues that annoyed. As a whole, the boat was very good, with three double cabins and a set of bunks. With Lucy and Alex no longer able to join us, we had the luxury of the bunk room to use as storage and a changing room. The galley was well equipped and the fridge big enough to keep us going without the need to buy ice. Talking to others along the way, the condition of our charter boat was much on a par with others, with everyone having a list of things that need attention.

Aquaholic had been recently fitted with a new main sail and new bimini and dodger so things looked trim. She sailed very well and was extremely comfortable even in quite big seas. Our skipper was always happy to put the sails up and make use of the wind whereas we noted that many boats simply motored a lot. It is always a lot more comfortable with the sails up.

Our skipper, Lordan, was a middle aged Croatian national who spends the season skippering charters with some time away working oil rigs. He had done 14 weeks straight to date. He has a wife and two children so I guess he doesn’t get to see all that much of them. Still, the whole economy seems geared up to work flat out in the summer and back off for the winter.

Our first night was in a small cove near Maslinica on the island of Solta. We motor sailed in light conditions and picked up a buoy near last light. This was to be our introduction to the system of anchorages in Croatia. Basically, there are five choices for spending the night.

Anchor. Our skipper dislikes this option for anything other than a daytime swim because the water is often very deep and the anchor is OK but not brilliant. I concur with his assessment.
Take a buoy. Some buoys are owned by restaurants and they will let you stay for free as long as you go to the restaurant (they tend to be expensive). Other buoys are owned by the local port authority. Buoys can cost anywhere between $45 and $100 a night depending on location. Staying on a buoy means we have to use the dinghy to go ashore.
Back on to the harbour pier. This is convenient but more expensive, costing between $75 and $120. It can also be a noisy night or a fun night, depending on your neighbours.
Go into a marina. This is the most expensive option, with most being over $100 a night.

For our first night, we had little choice, the skipper pre-arranging a buoy owned by a restaurant which proved to have a limited and rather pricey menu. All in all, the crowds and number of boats are so much bigger than we anticipated that in the end one has little choice and you just go with the flow. Backing on to a wharf is probably the preferred option because it gives us complete freedom to explore the towns at will.

Life over the two weeks of sailing was so relaxing and enjoyable far beyond our expectations. Most people charter for one week only but we were so glad that we had organised two weeks because as the first week came to a close we all knew that we would have been upset to get off. After initially fussing a bit over our exact itinerary, we came to realise that everywhere was good and yet everywhere is different. Most towns have an “old town” with medieval origins but each has its own unique character. Each port is also quite unique and although the actual facilities differ, most are adequate for at least an overnight stay.

The actual itinerary was mostly out of our control, with the skipper coming up with a whole raft of reasons why we could not go where we wanted to go and should, in fact, go where he wanted to go. The motivation for these conflicts was hard to fathom. At times I leaned towards the negative viewpoint that he wanted to go where things served him best (he had a friend he wanted to catch up with, his brother was going there, he knew a restaurant owner, etc). Sometimes, the positive view held and we considered that he was just trying to do his best by us. The weather was often used as a reason why we could not go to some place we nominated. It is impossible to argue with a skipper when they play the weather and safety card because they are ultimately responsible. However, we had many dire predictions of horrendous storms and winds, none of which ever eventuated (just as the online forecasts predicted). I would show him the predictions but we would just shrug and suddenly his English would get worse. The overall consensus is that it is probably a mixture of everything. Sailing people around the Croatian Islands for 14 weeks straight would test anyone’s integrity. It was strange though that his brother kept popping up everywhere we went in the first week.

Skipper Lordan had a strict daily routine. He would rise at 8:30 no matter what and would wander off either along the wharf or in the dinghy to find coffee. He would return an hour later bearing an assortment of sweet breads to sustain him through the day. We would get underway between 9:30 and 10am, even if he had previously announced an “early start”. On big sail days, we would pull in somewhere in the early afternoon for lunch or a swim, which meant that it was time for Lordan to retire below and sleep. The time after lunch and a swim was mostly spent waiting for Lordan to wake up. Once we reached our destination, Lordan would head off to catch up with acquaintances before returning for a quick nap. This guy could sleep. He did dine with us on the boat a few times and sometimes at a restaurant. The terms state that we were responsible for feeding him so when he did accompany us to a restaurant, we paid. He usually ordered the most expensive meal of all of us. Still, he was a jovial character with a good sense of humor. His English ability was good but his hearing not so, resulting in some difficult conversations at times. A question along the lines of “How far is it to Stari Grad?” might get an answer of “There is a bit of cloud so you can’t see the stars.”

Whenever practical, we sailed and shut down the engine. Our skipper was good that way. A boat load of New Zealanders we spoke to were peeved that they had been out for five days and hadn’t put the sails up. The boat sailed very well indeed and the few times the sea got up a bit she showed that she could handle bad conditions if needed. Fortunately, with the relatively light winds and the many islands that provide shelter, we seldom had much of a sea to contend with.

We swam most days, with the water a little chilly on entry but otherwise a good temperature. The water clarity here is amazing, it often being easy to make out the bottom in 40 feet of water. The fish life is limited and restricted to small fish and there was no coral growth. The sea grass beds look to be in reasonable condition but the bottom in areas where yachts had been anchoring was often a garbage tip with bottles, cans, clothes (mostly undies), plastic pegs and assorted bric a brac.

As always on our trips, we ate like kings, both on the boat and at restaurants. The waistline damage is yet to be fully assessed but it won’t be good. We had some excellent meals cooked on board, with Helen’s beautiful pork dish, Christine’s amazing chicken and a decadent meal of mussels, purchased from a floating mussel farm on the way up the Krka River to Skradin. One of the memorable restaurant meals include one in the old town at Stari Grad in an old three level building that reeked of ambience and boasted outstanding food. At another restaurant in the little cove of Senjska on the island of Solta we had a local dish called a Peka. This was a delicious mix of beef and lamb cuts with potatoes, carrot and cabbage slow roasted over coals in a large iron pan with a big iron cone acting as a lid. It was tender, packed full of flavour and equally full of calories. Of course, home made bread was used to soak up the juices. In Sibenik, we enjoyed a marvellous seafood mix with sardines, red mullet, shrimps and squid. There was so much food that we took home a “doggy bag”. Icecream excursions were common, with so much cheap and top quality icecream available. Bread was a bit of a mystery. Bakeries are common but they focus on sweet fare or long French style sticks. Occasionally, we managed to find some good rolls or loaves that suited but the next stop would be different again. The supermarkets tended to sell packaged white bread only suitable for toasting. The bakeries did sell some delicious pastry pieces that were filled with pork mince, a type of cheese curd or cheese and feta. They were excellent “munchy food”. We usually lunched on the boat and things seemed to build up from just a sandwich to huge spreads of continental fare, pickled octopus, olives, three types of cheese, salami, mortadella, tomatoes, etc. After a few such lunches we checked our waist lines and went back to the sandwiches.

Interaction with fellow cruisers was surprisingly limited, with few English speaking groups around and many European crews being insular to the point of not even returning a wave. Very noticeable was the number of boats crewed by large groups of young German men, who were almost universally loud, drunk and extremely late to bed. Tying up in the vicinity of such a party boat is not recommended. We did come across a boat of New Zealanders who would shout out “Hi Aussies” across the water when we met up. They were fun and far more friendly than most others. One group of young German men had few inhibitions about showering on the rear deck after swimming. Helen and Christine were particularly interested in one young man who was very generously proportioned. Much over rated I’m told. Mario and I were somewhat put out that males appear to outnumber females by about 10 to 1 in the cruising set.

Life did get to be dominated by toilets. We were all surprised to find that our boat, and many others, was not fitted with a sullage holding tank and that the toilet was a straight “pump out to sea” type. Of course, use of this in a port for “Number 2s” is definitely not on and so regular trips ashore were required to find a land based toilet. The quality of the shore toilets varied widely, as they do with caravan parks and long waits for a shower or cubicle could result in peak times. The boat did have a couple of showers, although one had very poor pressure. One of the two toilets also wasn’t functioning correctly. We all ate high fibre breakfasts and focussed on regularity.

Places we visited:

Maslinica – a small town on the north end of Solta. We used a restaurant buoy in a small cove to the south. A pretty little stop.

Kut – on the east side of Vis. Two small towns occupy a lovely deep cove. Kut is the old town and Luka the newer town. Restaurants abound, along with a few small swimming beaches. We took a buoy and enjoyed an afternoon and morning wandering around the villages and admiring the many big expensive boats entering the harbour. We were delighted to find a pretty little foreshore restaurant in Ku that was used for the filming of Mama Mia 2.

Palmizana – The Pakleni Islands are a beautiful group of isles made up of the tops of a submerged mountain range and so create a myriad small bays and coves, most filled with boats at anchor. We took a buoy in a cove called Palmizana which has a restaurant and bar, both very reasonably priced and with a varied menu. It was a short walk across the island to the ACI Marina, from where it was possible to catch a water taxi to Hvar Town on the nearby island of Hvar.

Stari Grad – Stari Grad is a very old town situated on the east coast of the large island of Hvar (pronounced Kwar). It was first settled by the Greeks in the 3^rd Century BC but most of the old town dates from medieval times. The town is situated at the end of a long deep inlet, which contains a ferry terminal and a hotel resort complex. We moored stern on right in the middle of the old town where we could watch all the preparations for the upcoming traditional boat festival. The old town itself is simply gorgeous, with a labyrinth of tiny cobbled alleyways separating the many beautiful stone buildings and secluded courtyards. Walking through the alleyways at night with the soft glow of the street lights reflected off the marble and stone walls is one of the best experiences we have had. We enjoyed an amazing meal of local food at a three level medieval restaurant that simply dripped with ambience.

Hvar Town (Pronounced Kwar) – We caught a bus over the island to the popular tourist town of Hvar Town. The town was the usual collection of old stone buildings but had a large and vibrant front quay that was full of ferries and tourists. Hvar is often called “Britain’s Bali” and has a reputation stained by the sometimes poor behaviour of the younger set. We found it charming and a trip to the Spanjola, a massive fortress that overlooks the town. Not fancying the walk up the hill, we taxied up and down and spent an hour taking in the spectacular views over the town and the nearby Pakleni Islands. A visit down into the ancient dungeons opened our eyes as to just how horrible things must have been in times past if one was to fall foul of authority.

Bobovisce – A little village on the northern end of the island of Brac. We tied up on mooring lines and used the tender to go across the inlet to the one restaurant and bar for a afternoon drink. Although small, the village was pretty and provided a cheap night anchorage.

Primosten – a very old island fort town just off the mainland north of Trogir. We moored stern on alongside some huge luxury yachts and took in to beautiful surrounds. The town is a very popular tourist resort, boasting three excellent beaches on different sides of the town so no matter what the wind direction there is a good beach. Being a Friday night, the town pumped up with a live band in the town square. The music went on until 5am and life was a lot slower the next morning. There are lovely walks around the island and up to the large church at the top of the town. Primosten would make a great holiday destination.

Sibenik – A large town and port a short distance into the Krka River system. The town features a long waterfront and promenade. Three fortresses of varying sizes look out over the town from the hills above, an indication of the strategic importance of the town in times past. The large Church of St James dates from the 15^th Century and dominates the skyline with its gothic domes. As with most of the old towns there is a maze of lesser roads, alleyways and small piazzas. We backed onto the town promenade and explored the city, coming across a wedding in full swing at St James church and stopping for a beer at a small bar deep within the old town. A superb evening dinner was had at one of the many restaurants that line the foreshore. We found the seafood to be abundant and surprisingly cheap. The serves were very generous so we ended up taking home a “doggy bag” of assorted seafood.

Krka River – We motored up the Krka River from Sibenik to Skradin. The river snakes through a series of spectacular gorges and lakes, becoming progressively fresher. Oyster and mussel farms are common and we stopped to buy 5kg straight from the farm. Two huge bridges span the river.

Skradin – this is the town that gives access to the beautiful Krka lakes and waterfalls. The town itself is little more than a village. There are a few harbour side moorings available (if you know the harbour master) or a well equipped but expensive ACI Marina. We tried to get a spot on the wharf but were rejected and sent to the marina. On the way up the Krka River, we had stopped to buy 5kg of fresh black mussels so it was mussels on the boat for dinner. We stayed for two nights and the second night we secured a spot on the town wharf, more than halving the cost and increasing the ambience no end.

Krka National Park – this large park covers 109km2 around the Krka River. It is most famous for its lakes and waterfalls and attracts a huge number of visitors each year. The main area to visit is the Skradinski buk, a large series of waterfalls surrounded by walk trails through beautiful lush forest and a small hamlet. We accessed it via a boat trip from Skradin, access by yacht being impossible due to a low bridge upstream of Skradin. Swimming is popular but we didn’t bother due to the crowds and concentrated on enjoying the walk and the magnificent scenery.

Rogoznica – A quaint little fishing village and tourist town south of Primosten. It lacked the appeal of Primosten but had the usual line of waterfront restaurants and a couple of beaches that were more concrete than sand. We came across a restaurant called Restaurant Mario so we felt we had to give it a go. It was very good fare and a pleasant atmosphere.

Senjska – A very pretty small cove on the south side of the island of Solta. The only buoys available are owned by the small family restaurant in the cove and they can be used free on condition one dines at the restaurant. Unfortunately, we occupied the most inshore buoy and the slight groundswell was funneled down to the end of the cove and we found the anchorage to be very rolly.

Trogir – The last two nights were spent back in Trogir, as rain and strong winds suggested that Milna, our last destination, was full up with most people electing to stay in port. We were happy enough after two weeks at sea to take in a bit more of beautiful Trogir.

What was the pick of it all? Probably the lovely town of Stari Grad with its gorgeous maze of alleyways. The sail from Vis to the Pakleni Islands was wonderful, with a great breeze and a steady 6.5 knots. We came across a few dolphins but the best site was a school of large tuna feeding on sardines, leaping from the water across a large area of ocean.

Would we recommend the experience? Absolutely. The bucket list was well and truly served. Great company (thanks Helen and Mario), amazing cruising and an unforgettable experience.

Rome-Split-Trogir 2019

September 7, 2019 / terry

The great adventure begins, a bucket list item to be ticked off. The next four weeks consists of two weeks sailing in beautiful Croatia followed by ten days in a small Italian village as a base for exploring Tuscany. Two other couples are joining us for the sailing and Mario and Helen will go on to Italy with us. Alex and Lucy will return to Germany, where they are currently visiting a new grandchild.

We caught up with Mario and Helen at Perth airport check-in and did the usual parade through security, immigration etc before settling in to wait for boarding our Qatar Airways flight to Doha. The flight left at 10:50pm and landed in Doha at 5:15am. Because the plane was basically chasing the sun, it was 11 hours of night time starting in the middle of the night. It is weird to be served a dinner meal at midnight. It was the usual watch a movie, try to sleep, go to the loo, watch a movie, …. routine but the flight was pretty good overall. The plane was a giant two deck A380 and we were impressed with the standard.

Most of the three hours in Doha consisted of walking along endless corridors of duty free shops and paying an amazing $A8 for a coffee. There was not much to see outside apart from what appeared to be appalling smog. By 8am, the outside temperature was around 30 degrees with 41 forecast.

We boarded the next leg of the journey onto a smaller A330 which promised a tad more legroom but not much more. The standard was much lower with terrible TV screens and cramped foot room. It was another 5 hours to Rome and by the time we exited the airport to find the shuttle bus to the Airport Mecure, we had had enough. We had just missed one shuttle and heavy traffic delayed the next so we had quite a wait before we were on our way to the little town of Fiumicino, bordering the edge of the airport to book into the Mecure Leonardo da Vinci for the night.

After collapsing for an hour or so, we met up again and headed out to explore the little fishing town, sitting on the banks of an arm of the River Tiber. It is more on the industrial side than the tourist but there was a very cute line of restaurants and bars that caught our attention. With all the time shifts and erratic meals, none of us had any idea of what biological time we were in but it certainly felt like beer o’clock so we settled in to an Irish pub and sampled a range of the extensive on-tap offerings. We followed up with some delicious food. By 8:15 we were all in bed.

The next day was to be easy, with a 1 hour flight to Split in Croatia leaving at the civilized time of 11:25 am. We gave ourselves plenty of time, leaving the hotel at 8:20 to allow for the possible traffic snarls we made excellent time and found the Vueling Air counter to check in. Much to our horror, we had not booked ANY luggage. I say “We” but in reality it was down to Christine but we don’t need to dwell on that point. Being a low cost airline, luggage is not included. To book in luggage at checkin was going to cost us $A60 each. The nice girl at the counter suggested that we go away and purchase luggage check-in online, where it would only cost us $A20 a head. We sat while Christine played with the phone then presented again. “I can’t find any record of your payment,” said the girl. We retired for a second go. Christine’s creds were taking a beating at this stage. On third presentation, our luggage was checked in and it was off to find a boarding gate.

We wandered the corridors, bought some duty free booze, made several wrong turns before finally finding gate E01 and getting on a bus to the plane. The flight was crazy short, up and over the calf of Italy and across the narrow Adriatic Sea to land in Split. Immigration was efficient and the luggage was quickly retrieved. Not so for everyone. A long line of people waiting at a small window was half the passengers on an Easyjet flight whose luggage had gone somewhere other than Split. A great start to their holiday.

Once again, we located the Airport Shuttle Bus rank for the 20km trip into Split. A very comfortable bus arrived and we all bundled in. It rattled along the coast road for about 8km before coming to an almost complete halt in the heaviest traffic I have ever seen in Croatia. We crawled along for nearly another hour, travelling at less than walking pace. The drop off point was a little over a kilometre from our accommodation so we loaded the backpacks and dragged the wheelie bags across the flagstones in front of the ancient Roman place. Everywhere there where people relaxing and drinking, while we were tired, footsore and ready for a break. The apartment proved a little tricky to find, tucked in amongst a cluster of old stone structures at the end of a series of narrow laneways but we finally met Damir and were settled in to our AirBnB apartment.

The apartment was functional, neat and clean. The big appeal was location, location with a bit more location thrown in. It was a short step around the corner to an endless variety of eateries and a little supermarket. Diocletian’s Palace was only a few hundred metres away and the World Famous esplanade in front of the palace was within easy reach. We did to eateries in the one afternoon, with beer and local tapas at one followed beer wine and pizza at another. It was a marvellous end to a crazy day where we spent most of a day working hard for a little over an hour’s flight time. Still, we had arrived in Croatia safely and without major incident.

Our first day in Split was spent in a exploration of Diocletian’s Palace. Built in the 4^th Century, the palace of the Roman Emperor Diocletian occupies over half of the old town area. Visible signs of the original palace vary from near complete sections with Roman mosaic floors to walls and buildings rebuilt many times over the centuries, incorporating Roman columns and arches. The effect is stunning, with new vistas at every turn and an abundance of incredibly cute little nooks and hide-aways. Every little plaza is filled with cafes and the alleyways are lined with stone walled shops showing off the colourful crafts of the region. Just walking around inside the palace area is a continual delight.

The crowds are rather heavy though, far heavier than we have experienced before, with several cruise ships being in port. One is simply enormous, dominating the harbour, and looks more like a giant sheep carrier than a cruise ship.

Helen and Mario went walking and returned several hours later thrilled with their excursion to the Park Suma Marjan, a large sprawling nature park with a high lookout over Split. Helen is doing very well with all the walking following some recent health issues but waited at the bottom of the final 330 step climb while Mario pushed on to bring back some wonderful photos of the two main bays that surround the city. They enjoyed a wine or two taking in the views. Meanwhile, we did a spot of shopping, organised some SIM cards for our internet aboard the yacht and found a cool spot to sample more of the excellent local Karlovako beer.

After a very Mediterranean meal of olives, cheeses and salami, Mario and Helen went back out to take in the beauty of the palace at night. The rock walls create gorgeous colours and shadows creating a fairy-tale like effect. We relaxed.

Day 3 in Croatia had us travelling north to Trogir, from where we would pick up our yacht. The coastal ferry to Trogir was due to run at 1pm so we spent a couple of hours sitting at a cafe on the Split Esplanade drinking a coffee, eating lunch and generally watching the wonderful world pass by. It was such a hardship.

The ferry trip was amazing, providing beautiful views of the harbour, the headland and the villages along the coast of the island of Ciovo and on to the gorgeous little town of Trogir. Trogir dates from the 3rd Century BC and has at various times been Greek, Roman, Croat, Austrian and Venetian. The Venetian influence is most noticeable. The old town is situated on a small island between the mainland and the larger island of Ciovo. Almost the entire island is covered in white stone buildings separated by a maze of twisting winding cobbled alleyways. The only vehicle roads are around the edge of the island, leaving everything else for foot traffic. If the palace at Split is a 10/10, Trogir old town is an 11/10. It is breathtaking and fully deserves its World Heritage status.

We made our way over the two bridges to the mainland and completed the short walk to our accommodation, to be greeted by Stefan, our host. He showed us around a neat three bedroom apartment on the second floor with all mod cons and plenty of facilities.

We had a three bedroom apartment because Alex and Lucy were due to fly down from Germany to join us for the sailing but sadly, we had received news that Alex’s medical condition was showing some contra indications and they had been advised not to travel to Croatia but to stay in Germany. It was very sad for us but no doubt doubly sad for them. Still, health comes first. From here on, many of our toasts will be to Alex and Lucy.

We had deliberately staved off the temptation to look up the football score as the Eagles played Essendon in an Elimination Final so we could set up in the apartment and watch a replay using Kayo on the Internet. We must have announced our arrival to the rest of the residents with our screaming (especially Mario’s) as the eagles demolished a hapless Bombers.

That night, we ventured back into the old town to be absolutely charmed by the effects of the soft lighting in the narrow stone lined walkways. We settled at a charming restaurant and had wood fired pizza and seafood pasta. All the chairs and tables were carved out of olive wood and each piece was unique. There were places that looked like a scene straight out of a Harry Potter movie. Afterwards, we wandered down to the castle fortress at the end of the island and admired all the huge expensive boats moored along the harbour. As we approached an ice creamery, a waiter saw our West Coast shirts and cheered us, saying he too had watched the match. Good to see the AFL spreading its wings.

The next day we explored more of the old town. Mario and Helen went back to the fortress and climbed (Helen continues to amaze) to the top for views down onto the town. We spent some time in the local market and when I approached a woman for help finding something she answered in perfect English with a trace of an Aussie accent. Turns out she was from Melbourne originally. Small world.

Our time in Trogir was brief but we will probably pass back through after a week’s sailing. It is one of our favourite places anywhere, its charm and easy life is so seductive. I could live here a while.

Now it’s off sailing!

Singapore 27-31 July 2019

August 1, 2019 / terry

The stark differences between Singapore and Bangkok struck us as soon as we exited the aircraft and entered the incredible world of Changi Airport efficiency. The Immigration lines were a fraction of the length of those in Thailand, the processing twice the speed and the signage clear and informative. The only small inconvenience we experienced was that our MRT cards had expired and we had to purchase new ones. One was so old that we could not retrieve the $13 credit on it but the other was replaced and the credit transferred. Then it was away on the MRT with a change of trains to the Downtown line at Expo and an easy 30 minute ride to the riverside area and the Robertson Quay Hotel.

The Robertson Quay Hotel is superbly located right next to the Singapore River and surrounded by wonderful eateries and incredible ambience. It is quiet by day except for the steady stream of fitness types jogging along the river paths and vibrant at night. What would have once been a smelly, busy and somewhat shady part of the old colonial city is now one of the chic places to be seen. Unfortunately, the prices reflect that and grabbing a beer and a snack can hit the hip pocket quite hard. The hotel itself is very moderately priced by Singapore standards in a city where anything around $100 a night is a bargain. It is basic, lacking in glitz and glamour but clean, does a very basic but edible breakfast and even has a small comfortable pool. Strangely, the foyer is the least glamorous part of the hotel, with the actual rooms presenting better than the public face of the place. It’s usually the other way around.

By the time we had checked in and stowed out luggage, it was around 8:30pm and too late to move too far away so we explored around, settling on a great bar that had affordable beer and an exciting range of tapas dishes. We were already missing the luxury of endless food and drink at the M Club in Bangkok.

Over the next three days, we re-acquainted ourselves with our favourite eateries. We have not visited Singapore since 2010 and had heard tales of how the place is now too pricey as a holiday destination. We actually did not find this to be the case, but then we know where to look. What has changed in the last twenty years is the lifestyle of many Singaporeans, whose increased income and improved living conditions has produced great change across the city. The riverside area is a prime example, full of eateries selling Italian, Spanish, Mexican, Japanese and Korean foods, rather than the traditional Hokkien and Nonya foods of the past. The old choice between a Tiger or a Carlsberg beer has now morphed into a bewildering array of craft beers with prices to match ($12 pints are the norm). Wine, once a rarity, is now everywhere, although a deep wallet is needed with a tiny glass of the cheapest red running at $8 to $10.

However, once away from the riverside, marina or downtown areas and back to the more traditional food stall concept the prices drop away to what they were twenty years ago. We visited the very touristy Newton Circus where prices have always been $1 to $2 dearer per dish than the more local places but things were still affordable, with many dishes available for $4 and a large 700ml Tiger Beer selling at $7.50. It is fun to watch the hawkers pounce on first time tourists with the outrageously expensive seafood menus with a bit of pressure selling soon making the bill mount. More savvy visitors will look around to see which stalls have the longest lines of locals, because that is where the good food is. We basically came back to Singapore just to sample some local favourite dishes that somehow are never as good if cooked elsewhere in the world.

Our favourite, Murtabak, is a genuine Straits special and one stall at Newton Circus produces the best. It is a pancake filled with cabbage and mutton then fried and chopped into slices. It is served with a wonderful curry sauce for dipping. Delicious.

We also savour the Singapore Oyster Omelette, not a real omelette in the French sense but fresh oysters fried quickly with a mixture of beaten egg and flour. It takes on a light but partly crusty texture with the plump oysters dotted throughout. It’s hard to beat.

Another favourite is Carrot Cake, not a real cake in the usual sense and neither does it contain carrot in the usual sense. The “carrot” is actually a white yam and it is diced and fried up in a similar mixture to the oyster omelette. The yam is soft and fluffy if done well. It is a wonderful flavour.

Food stalls, Murtabak and even the Fremantle Seafood Market (very up market)

We also ate at the old People’s Park in China Town where several floors of food stalls in the old tradition still exist. Inside the complex can be hot and steamy at times with enough spices and cooking aromas to overcome the hardiest of western senses but when things are quieter or near the outside of the complex things are easier to handle. Here, most dishes will be had for $3 or $4. The range is not quite as big as in some places with Hokkien dishes predominating but it is the place to get lots of good cheap BBQ duck. Christine finds in very hard to go past duck while I feel the same about wontons and the broad flat rice noodles used in Hor Fun or Kwaey Teow.

Because we had to take some time off from eating, we did a couple of excursions. Just down the road a bit from our hotel was the Fort Canning area, once a British fortress and barracks but now a beautiful nature park spread across a 50m high hill. Fortunately, a series of escalators keeps the climb to the top civilized. It is worth the walk to take in the magnificent trees that grow on the slopes of the hill, splendid tropical species adorned with all manner of staghorn and bird’s nest ferns. The hill is thought to be the ancient site of a palace dating from around the 14^th Century when a kingdom called Singapura was prominent. We visited an archaeological site where a dig has exposed some old walls and layers of pottery shards. We also toured a spice garden where an impressive range of Asian spices are growing. It was a really worthwhile place to explore. It was interesting to note the lack of trees on the photographs and lithographs of Fort Canning in the old days. I guess there is not much point in having a fortress full of guns but surrounded by forest so cutting down all the trees makes some kind of sense. All the wonderful towering giants we admired must have dated from after the time of the hill being used as a fortress.

At the base of Fort Canning is the Singapore National Museum, which we last visited over twenty years ago. These days, it is a modern and captivating display of the history of the island nation, each era being beautifully represented with a mixture of old artifacts, photographs and hi-tech electronic displays. It is well worth a couple of hours. One section was dedicated to the tribulations suffered by the locals during the Japanese occupation, a part of history that is often overshadowed by the story of the interned allied soldiers. The Chinese Singaporeans in particular suffered terribly at the hands of the invaders with more than 5000 being executed. It was a bit of an eye-opener.

Every time we visit Singapore it has changed, always for the better. For those who bemoan the lack of markets stuffed full of pirated goods and stores packed full of cheap electronic goods remember that the life of the average Singaporean has improved enormously in the last three decades. While extreme wealth is very much in evidence, it is also clear that the growth in wealth has been shared to a much greater extent than some SE Asian countries. The population is relatively stable but with an ageing profile, leading to a shortage of local labour. The nation relies on importing labour to maintain utilities and growth. The Singaporeans seem to have found a marvellous balance between modern growth and first class facilities while maintaining a strong sense of the past and their heritage. It is clean, safe and still very affordable. Most importantly, everything seems to work and work well. People obey laws and behave well towards each other. We love it.

Bangkok – 24-27 July 2019

July 29, 2019 / terry

Back in January, we saw a great special with luxuryescapes.com for three nights of luxury in the Marriot Marquis Hotel in Bangkok so we rationalised it as being a fitting reward for Christine’s birthday. It was such a good deal but then by the time we had booked airfares, and further rationalised that four days in Singapore needed to be tacked on the end, the costs ballooned out a little.

Thing’s took a worrying turn when we checked in at Perth Airport to find that the Air Asia flights through Kuala Lumpur to Bangkok somehow did not include through luggage and we would have to go through immigration, collect our luggage and re-check in. Shouldn’t be an issue with a couple of hours leeway. Even better when the plane touched down a half hour early. Not so good when we spent most of the extra time sitting parked on the tarmac. We exited the plane and scurried across the ridiculously long KL airport sky corridors to reach immigration. The queues were impossible and the two hours leeway looked like evaporating rapidly. Christine started to go up and down the queue asking to be let in, pleading her case about missing a connect while I sat at the back of the line like a coward. She managed to get let in about a third of the way down the line. When we finally got to the end, I warned her not to carry on with the man at the desk because they don’t like pushy people but she ignored me and grovelled so well he just stamped her passport and waved her through; ignoring all the fingerprint and photography stuff they do these days. He did the same with me.

We raced on to baggage claim, launched ourselves at the carousel and made it quickly through customs, located the escalator to Departures and found the appropriate check in lane. Once again, Christine did her grovelling trick to convince others to let us skip by them. It was awful but it worked. Alas, we were ten minutes too late for baggage check in so Christine started to tear up and mentioned the “Birthday Trip”. This ploy seemed to work because a quick phone call saw us on our way again, boarding passes in hand. The lines through Immigration were as bad as the inbound ones so Christine had the audacity to approach an official in a very fancy uniform and plead our case. He inspected our documents and took us over to the crew and military check-in where we were duly processed and onto the final leg. With no hold ups at security, we actually made it through with ten minutes to spare, exhausted but content. Well done to the Malaysian officials.

We seem to have a bit of a history with poor connects involving Bangkok. We’ll need a holiday just to get over the flight. On the plus side, the flights were excellent, especially the Perth-KL Air Asia X flight which featured excellent leg room and a quiet environment in their “Quiet” section up the front. Even when you fork out for all their extras, it is still a whole lot cheaper than the big carriers and very comfortable for a six hour flight.

Arrival at Don Mueang Airport showed us what real crowds can be like, totally eclipsing the lines at KL. One long snaking line led past a series of signs, indicating 45 minutes, 30 minutes, 15 minutes etc until we then had to break off and choose an individual line. The reason for the slow processing was apparent when we watched people trying to grapple with the fingerprinting machines. People were so incompetent. When we finally got to the head of the line, we scooted through with no issues so we failed to understand why some found it so hard. One guy had been trying ofr a good five minutes before us and was still trying after we had been processed. The official at the counter just sat and stared at him.

In the past, catching a taxi from the airport in Bangkok was a frightening experience, with scams and aggressive touts in abundance. Thankfully, all that has been cleared up and one heads for Door 8 to use the simple and efficient taxi desk with metered taxis. It helps to have some small change Baht because the passenger has to pay the two toll stations (70bht and 50bht) along the way but all was good and we were soon in the famous downtown traffic snarls fighting our way through to Sukhamvit Road and the Marriot Queens Park.

Once at the hotel, a small army of personnel descended on the taxi to take our luggage and escort us like captured prizes to the Reception Desk. There it was discovered that we were more than mere mortals and whisked away once again to the 27 floor and the delights of the “M Club” to fill ourselves with complimentary drinks and canapés while check-in proceeded. Our package includes access to the M Club, a large bar area with sweeping views of the city and all day non-alcoholic refreshments. Alcohol comes out between 5:30 and 8:30 and includes all manner of beer, wines, cocktails and the like, a dangerous thing to let Christine loose on. It is a good thing that wine is included because buying wine otherwise in Bangkok is out of our league. Canapés are also on offer but so vast is the selection and supply that it is really an evening meal.

The Marriot Marquis Queens Park – Bangkok

After a drink and a plate of Mediterranean fare, we headed down to our room to unpack and settle in for a bit, before heading back to the M Club to do further damage to the amazing spread of food. Three days here will be needed to be followed by thirty days in the gym. We spent a very pleasant evening chatting to an Irish couple who have lived and worked in Thailand for the last six years. Fortunately, the only thing we had to drive home was an elevator and even that was a stretch.

Breakfast was back in the M Club, a modest affair by some standards but still with far too much for these ageing bodies to handle. We did our best to consume enough to get us through the day without resorting to lunch, rested up a while in the room then headed out to re-acquaint ourselves with Bangkok’s complex public transport system.

The nearest BTS Sky Train station is within an easy walk of the hotel. Our plan was to ride the BTS and then swap to a Klong Taxi, a high speed long boat that shoots through Bangkok’s canal system at breakneck speed, spraying filthy water in all directions. We paid for an all day pass on the BTS then realised that we had wasted our money and should have just paid single tickets for only two rides. The pass doesn’t cover the Klong Taxi so we had more to pay but we soon worked out the system. Our journey took us over into the old city area, where we had a booking for a bike ride the following day and we were anxious to scope out the trip. We seemed to walk and walk, climbing a great many stairs to access BTS stations and cross over canals. Along the way, we passed fascinating street food eateries and small markets, but the attraction of these had been reduced by the full bellies from the M Club breakfast.

Having located the bike tour place and satisfied we could find it the next day, we worked out way back with more walking and climbing, the tired legs protesting. We got off the Skytrain at Nana station to visit the Nana Plaza, a low cost cheap goods market area in one of the shadier parts of Bangkok. It proved to be a bit too shady for our tastes, with streets lined with bars and nightclubs, full of bored looking young girls and overweight single western men. We decided that the area was not to our liking and got back on the Skytrain to return to Phrom Phong, our home station. Once there, we were exhausted and set off for the walk home. After quite a while, we both came to the conclusion that we were walking the wrong way and had clocked up nearly a kilometre of “wrongness”. There was no chance of just jumping in a taxi to return to the hotel because Sukhumvit Road was just a carpark and walking was much quicker. As we once again passed the station entrance, we spied a tourist couple headed to the steps and offered them our day passes, knowing full well that we would not use them again that day. They were well pleased.

Eventually, we crawled our way back to the hotel, tired and beaten. Our stamina for wandering around SE Asian cities has taken a hit over the years.

The afternoon was spent lounging by the hotel pool and downing a couple of wonderful Chang beers, before retiring upstairs for a well-earned nap.

Rejuvenated, we hit the M Club again for the evening drinks and endless food. The food may not be of the highest quality but it is more than passable and the quantity and variety makes it a standout. We found ourselves sitting next to the couple to whom we had given the day pass and we found that they were from Perth. Like us, they were enjoying the “Luxury Escapes” package, except they had bought the week long package. We passed a very pleasant evening in their company. They still had the all day pass with some time on it so we passed it on to one of the waiters to use on his way home from work.

The highlight of our third day in Bangkok was a bike tour with Just Nok Bike Tours. They are situated in the old city area not far from the busy backpacker zones. We were a little apprehensive about the thought of cycling in the chaotic Bangkok traffic but we need not have had any concerns. Our guide, a wonderfully jovial guy named Jazz, was an expert at negotiating the difficult parts and kept us in the backstreets for 80% of the 13km ride. It also helped that there was just the guide and us rather than a long tour of cyclists to manage. Cycling in Bangkok is so easy and efficient that I am surprised that one sees so few bikes. Jazz put it down to the climate. He said that very few businesses have showering facilities and cycling tends to work up a sweat. We found things pretty comfortable in the 32 degree heat and the rain stayed away.

The theme of the tour was to explore Bangkok behind the scenes. This we did, getting well off the usual tourist path. On the western bank of the river, there is a large Muslim community, living in stilt houses over a large wetland area. Cycling along the narrow boardwalks adjoining the few roads tested Christine’s fear of falling into sewer water (who wouldn’t be afraid) but we came through unscathed. There were places deep within the community where one could easily forget that we were in the heart of Bangkok and imagine ourselves out in the rural countryside.

We stopped at regular intervals to explore places of interest, a Royal Temple, another abandoned temple, sections of the old city fortress walls, some beautiful parks and gardens, the huge sprawling public hospital area and nearby University. We stopped at a fruit stall where Jazz showed us how to eat Mangosteen, Rambutan and another thing that looked like a lychee but was sweeter. All three were very tasty and very refreshing when one is thirsty.

Another food stop was at a large collection of street vendors parked under the huge Rama 8 Bridge. There we ate a snack meal of sun-dried pork and garlic strips deep fried in hot oil and served up with sticky rice. It was excellent fare. Jazz gave us some tips for the safe eating of street food, looking out for clean oil and checking the immediate surrounds of the vendor for cleanliness.

The tour took more than four hours and we ended up quite exhausted but exhilarated by the sights and experiences of the day. It was easily one of the best bike tours we have done. The trip back across town in the early evening proved difficult. A taxi was out of the question. Who wants to spend an hour going nowhere on Sukhumvit Road? We use the Klong Water Taxi for the first part then swapped to the Sky Train. The crowds on the Sky Train were crazy and we stood shoulder to shoulder, back to back and bum to bum with what seemed like a hundred other passengers. The trip took twice as long as usual because the train kept stopping, probably due to line congestion. It was near 7pm by the time we got to the hotel with just half an hour to have a bite to eat at the M Club.

Our taxi ride out to the airport was long but uneventful and the general boarding process was far less stressful than the horrors of KL. We settled in for the short Scoot flight to Singapore, leaving Bangkok with the definite feeling that a couple more days was needed. We generally aren’t ones for staying in at a hotel and so are seldom inclined to spend money on the luxury treatment. However, the Marriot Marquis was a whole new experience, providing a high standard of luxury without the pretentiousness that we often find hard to put up with. The staff were friendly and treated guests in a friendly and familiar manner. We felt totally at home while living in a standard to which we are not accustomed. We’ll be keeping an eye on the offerings from luxuryescapes.com for our next experience of paradise.

As for our opinion of Bangkok itself, little has changed and it still holds relatively few attractions. Moving around the city is difficult and expensive. Taxis actually represent good value but the time it takes to get anywhere makes them a poor option. The Sky Train is quite expensive compared to the MRT in Singapore and the overcrowding is almost unbearable at times. The Klong boats are cheap and fun but the River Boats are also quite expensive. A day wandering around Bangkok soon racks up more than $10 whereas a day on the MRT in Singapore struggles to be $5. In Bangkok, there is a move to get rid of the many street food vendors and locate them in eating areas. This push seems to be unpopular with both locals and tourists alike. The locals rely on street food, with few bothering to cook at home. The food is cheap, of an excellent standard and makes the eating out experience exotic and exciting. Squatting on a plastic stool under a bridge is way better than sitting in a plastic coated food hall. As with everywhere, it probably has more to do with collecting rents and building commercial centres than what the people actually want or need.

Alice Springs to Melbourne and Back to Dowerin

October 18, 2018 / terry

Thursday 4^th to Friday 5^th October – The main task over the next couple of days revolved around driving as far south as possible each to reach Mornington, Victoria. We were very keen to get down to see new baby Evie, and her parents Azba and Mike of course. We researched flying from Adelaide but by the time a hire car and accommodation was factored in, doing the big drive made sense.

Between us and Port Augusta lay Coober Pedy and Woomera, both of which we have visited before. A count of our remaining days before we must be back in Perth told us that there was a definite need to put in some long hauls so there would be limited time for sight seeing beyond what was available from the drive. A long haul drive is often an experience in itself. In times past we were capable of 800-900km days but now we find that 650km is a good enough target if successive days of driving are involved.

As one travels south from Alice, the population of the majestic desert oaks steadily dwindles and so the country takes on a more open desert-like appearance. The roadhouses are the major attraction and any plot of land that rises more than 100 metres above its surrounds suddenly becomes a mountain. We really struggled for points of interest. To keep up a routine, we always run a 100km driver swap pattern, meaning that the driver does not get fatigued and the passenger does not get too bored.

The first night, we overnighted off the road at the Pootnoura Creek 2^nd Channel. We were nestled up against the Ghan rail line and expected some night interruptions but all was quiet.

The approach to Coober Pedy is always fun. The surreal landscape dotted with what look like large anthills makes one question man’s sanity. To see the sheer industry and effort that has gone into digging little holes in search of little chunks of colourful silicate rock is almost laughable. However, a day or so in Coober Pedy and the opal fever starts to strike everyone and the insanity of the place fades. This time, we by-passed one of Australia’s great frontier towns, apart from refuelling, and pushed on.

Not far south of Coober Pedy is an area of Defence Dept land that has a restricted status. Currently, all access along the Stuart Highway is stopped between 3pm and 11pm on a daily basis up until between 1st October and 10^th November. It is quite a large stretch of highway that one does not want to get held up in. It mystifies me that an area of land set aside for the defence forces to test out weapons actually lies across a major national highway but there it is. National security and all that. We have to do our bit eh chaps?

Woomera was also bypassed and we crossed the large flat and treeless area south of Pimba until the beautiful Flinders ranges come into view near Port Augusta. The large expanse of the salt lake chain provides some spectacular views along the way. Lake Hart is relatively small but accessible from the highway. The Island Lagoon is much bigger and a few good lookouts present along the road. The size and grandeur of these flat expanses of glistening white makes me wonder just what a spectacle the vastness of Lake Torrens or Ayres Lake must be. We haven’t got out there yet but it is on the big list.

From Top Left – The Ghan railway, A night camp, The Murray River at Mannum, Approaching the Grampians, Horsham CBD.

We made Port Augusta in good time and pushed through to check out a camp site in the Horrocks Pass, 30kms south. The worth of the camp proved to be grossly exaggerated in Wikicamps and we decided to drive to the top of Horrocks Pass and stay at a caravan park in Wilmington, a cute little village just over the Flinders Range. An older type guy greeted us, cricket bat in hand, threatening to smash his computer to pieces out of frustration at trying to pay some bills. However, he managed to book us in with a laugh and a smile and we settled down for a pleasant night in bush surroundings. This is a really charming little place and with all the wonderful walking trails and gorges to explore in the Flinders it would make a wonderful cheap base to stay for a few days.

Saturday 6^th October – On a previous trip, we had been through Wilmington on a Sunday morning, hoping (but failing) to find a nice little cafe serving breakfast. We can now attest that Wilmington is no livelier on a Saturday morning.

The road south took us through the beautiful Clare Valley. A couple of standout looking little towns grabbed our attention, including Melrose, with a gorgeous little pub, a lovely stream and numerous walk trails into the Mt Remarkable National Park. Could be worth investigating at a later date. There were some markets on in Clare that prompted us to stop and partake in a sausage sizzle, although Christine’s Eagles shirt nearly got her barred. Fortunately, the guys running the Lions stall hated Collingwood more than the Eagles so we still got served. Christine managed to get her eyebrows done (threading) in the markets (apparently a priority after a couple of weeks in the desert) and I picked up some homemade fig jam (always a priority).

At Tarlee, we left the A32 and cut across to Kapunda and on into the Barossa Valley. At this time of year, the valley is covered in green. As we headed south, the crops gradually improved, from poor pathetic things up around Wilmington that already had been given over to the sheep, to lush fields of wheat, barley and canola. The vines are just starting to sprout their spring coats and the many deciduous fruit trees around the area still bear the flush of flowering. It was a very pretty drive.

We finally settled in for the night on the Murray at Mannum. We have never been to Mannum before and were very taken with both its setting and its streetscape. There is no bridge nearby so a ferry service carries cars across the river. The town, unlike many Murray towns, is built down near the river rather than higher up to escape flooding. Although this has meant some problems for the port in past years, it makes for a very picturesque setting. The caravan park is right on the river itself and there were a good number of water skiers and families fishing. We only saw carp caught.

Sunday 7^th October – We packed up the camper and walked down the road to the Mannum Sunday markets. There was the usual craft and potpourri type stuff and an excellent range and variety of street foods, although it was still a bit early for us to indulge. A gadget man sold us a wonderful 12V double fan for the camper. It would have been useful back in the hot weather.

From Mannum, we drove through Murray Bridge, Tailem Bend and picked up the Dukes Highway to go east all the way to Horsham in the Victorian Wimmera District. The roads by now are either full dual carriageway or single lanes with passing lanes every 5 kms so driving is easy. The country continued to be green, with hay cutting starting into the Mallee Region. Some crops in the Wimmera had obviously got off to a poor start and it was by no means a good season. However, the dams appear full and the stock fat so the Victorians have not suffered like the NSW and Qld farmers.

The caravan park in Horsham is a small council affair on the banks of the Wimmera River, an interesting river that flows out of the Grampians and into a series of swamps and lakes. It is said to hold good stocks of fish and I found myself wishing I had packed a rod. Horsham itself is a decent sized city with around 17,000 people and all amenities, yet still easy enough to move around in. We went for a walk into the CBD to find a supermarket and found all the shopping that one would expect anywhere.

Monday 8^th October – After a leisurely rise and a spot of shopping, we drove on to the Grampians and Halls Gap. The map indicated two ways to Halls Gap, the short way along C222 and a longer way on C216 through Stawell. Naturally, we chose the short way. As the road began to enter the National Park, a sign indicated that the road was unsuitable for caravans beyond Zumsteins (wherever that was). Mmm? We pressed on and the road looked fine. Zumsteins proved to be a quaint little picnic area so we stopped to read the information boards. No mention of caravans or road conditions. Four people sat having a picnic and we enquired with them about the road. “Oh it’s fine,” was the answer. “You will be OK.”

The road indeed became unsuitable for caravans and only just barely suitable for our camper. It was a full mountain climb with numerous hairpin bends and totally blind corners. There was quite a lot of traffic coming towards us, mostly appearing suddenly around corners taking up considerably more than their fair share of road. Christine refrained from screaming and I crushed the life out of the steering wheel while we put up with 24kms of torture. Numerous signs pointing to lookouts and walk trails flashed by but we ignored everything until we finally reached the sanctuary of Halls Gap.

It is very easy to fall in love with Halls Gap. A delightful village with lots of little eateries is strung along the main street and bisected by Stony Creek. The caravan park is strung out opposite, bringing campers right into the town. All around are the rampart walls of the mountains, with beautiful tall eucalypts, lush ferns and lots of wildflowers. There were a good number of campers, mostly South Australian, with Victorian school holidays coming to an end.

We set up camp, had lunch, explored the village then set off back onto the road that had tortured us to investigate some of the lookouts and waterfalls. Without a camper trailing behind, it is a lot less nerve racking but care is still needed on the blind bends, a safety point lost on some people. There must be some nasty accidents.

We visited the beautiful Silverband Falls, well named because they present as a narrow long fall of silver set in a fern filled gully. Reed Lookout is a forestry lookout giving superb views over the ranges to the farm lands beyond. A 1km walk down a good track takes you to The Balconies, where a number of rock ledges hang precariously over a sheer drop to the forest far below. The scenery is absolutely breath-taking. The Boroka Lookout offered equally magnificent views. An afternoon’s driving and walking does not even start to scratch the surface of all that there is to offer in the Grampians. It is a definite “must return”.

The Grampians

Tuesday 9^th October – We travelled SE through Stawell, Ararat and on past Ballarat. The freeway took us all the way to Melbourne and over the West Gate Bridge. Somehow, we narrowly averted the disaster of the last time we entered Melbourne this way and managed to change lanes at the last minute to avoid exiting prematurely in South Melbourne. Then it was into the dreaded tunnel, which seems to run for ever and is filled with huge car eating monsters. Enormous growling trucks occupy every lane and travel at a terrifying speed. The electronic signs say “AVOID LAND CHANGES” but this obviously does not apply to trucks, which fill every available gap as soon as one opens up. I should have worn the same underpants that I wore in the Grampians so I didn’t have to ruin two sets.

The freeway took us most of the way south to Mornington and the Nepean Hwy did the rest and we were soon set up in the Mornington Caravan Park. We had come this far to drop in on Azba and Mike to meet little Evie, now all of 4 months old. They live in Mt Eliza, only about 6kms from where we camped so we headed over in the evening. Apparently, all babies are cute but Evie is definitely right up there on the cuteness scale. She has Azba’s eyes so that would do it. She had some shots the previous day so the grumps had set in a little but she still seemed to acknowledge us. Pickle, the tiny little miniature dachshund with attitude, demanded far more attention than little Evie. It was scratch behind the ears, give me a tummy rub or I’ll bark you off the planet. Mike seems to have her measure though with a kibble controlled food approach. Christine had knitted Pickle a wonderful multi-coloured coat, a thing she does as “passenger therapy” on long drives. Pickle seemed to like it for a while then showed signs of wanting to eat it. It will probably be put away until next winter.

Wednesday 10 October – The first order of the day was to get the car in for a much needed service. As always seems to happen, they found more that was needed so it took most of the day to give it a birthday. We hung around camp and shivered. The maximum for the day was forecast at 17 but I doubt that it got much above 14 with a fresh breeze to add to the wind chill. Christine used the camp kitchen to cook up some meals and lunch meats, while I read and did a few little repairs on the camper. We did take a 2km walk down to the local Aldi but the wind froze us solid.

Once the car was retrieved, we went over to Az and Mike’s before turning in.

Thursday 11 October – We had a much needed sleep in today. In the late morning we drove into Mornington itself to walk the streets. The temperature was a definite improvement on the previous few days and there were quite a few people out and about. Mornington is a pretty little place with a main street full of great cafes, restaurants and a couple of pubs. It must really hum during summer holiday times. We liked the name of a spot called “Albert’s Burgers and Beer”. We shared a burger called “The Albert”. The patty was hand pressed using Angus beef and there was a delicious cheese, amazing pickles and a spicy sauce. We shared one in order to reduce the damage but I hated having to share such a wonderful creation. We washed it down with a local Mornington Pale Ale. Why not?

Around Mornington and gorgeous little Evie

In the evening, we were back with Az, Mike and Evie to say our farewells. It is wonderful to see them both happy. They are tired, what new parents aren’t. Azba is a wonderful mother and Mike makes a great dad. Thanks guys for sharing a little part of your life with us.

Friday 12 October – We packed up ready for the long trip home, a distance of 3365km (to Dowerin). To save a few kilometres and avoid a trip back through the dreaded tunnel and Westgate Bridge, we booked a car ferry ticket on the Sorrento to Queenscliff ferry. At around $120 for the car and camper, it was not a saving but it was a very pleasant way to go. The drive along the coast was great, seeing all the beautiful little coves and headlands that dot the Mornington Peninsula. We had booked a noon ferry but the ticket was good for an earlier departure so the fact that we were ahead of schedule did not matter.

Once aboard, we could leave the car and wander around the boat, a three deck affair with food, coffee and bar available. The scenery is worth watching as the ferry follows the coast past Portsea and across the entrance to Port Phillip and on into Queenscliff. The trip takes around 40 minutes and is well worth the little bit of extra money for the experience and the lack of panic.

Queenscliff is a gorgeous little town, full of quaint wooden buildings and some impressive stone structures. It boasts an extensive rail museum and a working steam train. After a short drive around to take in the sights, we drove north to Geelong, skirting the worst of the city and picked up the highway to Ballarat.

Somehow, we had to go through the centre of Ballarat (I’m sure that could have been avoided) but we were at least quite familiar with the city from our last trip and soon joined the A300 freeway to take us westwards in comfort. The towns we had been through only a few days before flashed past, Ararat, Stawell, Horsham etc and by the time we stopped for the night in Kaniva on the Western Hwy we were only 20kms or so shy of the SA border.

Saturday 13^th October – Another day of driving, swapping every 100kms. We followed the Western Hwy into SA where it becomes the Dukes Hwy and traverses wheat/sheep farming lands and towns such as Keith and Coonalpyn and on to the Murray River town of Tailem Bend. We had heard a radio program that talked about an art program that involves the painting of the many wheat silos that dot the landscape in SA. It was with great delight that we took in some of the magnificent artistic efforts. Indeed, some people make a tour out of following the silo art trails. The ones we saw were amazing examples.

Once at Murray Bridge, the choice is to stick to the expressway to Adelaide and put up with getting through the city, or head north through the Barossa and put up with lesser roads and frequent small towns. We chose the expressway, whizzing through the Adelaide Hills, taking the dizzy descent down the seemingly endless pass to the coastal plain then pushing through the Saturday shopping traffic to find the A1. We spent most of the trip sitting behind a large semi trailer, figuring it would guide us through the traffic, which it did until eventually peeling off and heading on the road to Gawler.

The A1 heading north of Adelaide must be one of the ugliest approaches to a major city anywhere. It traverses some low saltbush scrub country and seems to be covered in a ramshackle arrangement of light industry and poor farmlands that are littered with decaying machinery. It is really not a good look at all until after Port Wakefield.

We drove hard, through Port Pirie and Port Augusta and on to Kimba. Once heading west from Port Augusta, we really felt as if we were going home. Kimba is a wheat/sheep town at the top of the Eyre Peninsula. It has one of the best pieces of silo art we came across, a “Big Galah” and a free caravan park. What? Free? Yes, they make their recreation facilities available to caravanners. It pays off. We have used it before and the town benefits from the extra customers that results. There were more caravans in Kimba than many of the actual caravan parks we had used on the way over. Way to go Kimba!

Sunday 14^th October – Oh no! Not the Nullabor! Some love it, I hate it. A couple of days driving staring at low scrub does not make for a magic experience but then, each to their own. We had a glorious display of lightning with thunder to accompany during the night and a steady amount of rain, which fortunately abated in the morning, allowing us to pack up without drama.

After Kimba, there is still quite a bit of farming land and woodland through to Ceduna before the real open country is encountered.

Most of the drive west was wet, if not overly so. It seemed as if there were some really terrible looking storms around us but they never actually hit us too badly. We passed through Nullabor and on to Eucla. The aim was to get through the quarantine process (always a pain) then stop for the night. However, 25kms short of the border, we were hit by torrential rain, so bad that driving on was not really an option, and we joined 4 or 5 other rigs in a large gravel pit, close to the cliff edge. It took a few goes to actually set up camp and at one point we were setting up in a large shallow lake. The rain was savage!

Monday 15^th October – The rain stopped during the night but the morning was still overcast we the occasional small shower. We got through the quarantine with the usual sense of frustration. I really don’t know why they bother with all the advertising of how to prepare because it does no good. You rock up with veges sorted according to the web site rules, the pot of honey ready to hand over and all uncertain things ready to declare. “That’s OK, that’s good, etc etc. Now we need to look in the camper and all through the car.” One might as well just leave everything as is and let them have all the fun of discovery.

After Eucla, the weather steadily improved, although a steady headwind did nasty things to our fuel economy. The boredom of the open treeless plain slowly gave way to woodlands and we pushed on through Madura, Cocklebiddy and finally, Balladonia, the last stop before the “civilization” of Norseman. We reached Norseman with a couple of daylight driving hours left but I felt drained and a roadside stop about 15kms north was enough for us. It was hard to find a spot that wasn’t a mud patch, after all the recent rain and we ended up quite close to the road. The thundering road trains really didn’t bother us because we just crashed out.

Tuesday 16^th October – The final leg, at least to Dowerin. The rain had almost completely gone, with just the odd few spots as we drove north to Coolgardie. Then it was heading west again back towards home, watching the woodlands give way to low mallee scrub then, near Southern Cross, the familiar sight of wheatfields. The crops in Western Australia are so much better than those in the eastern states this year and even those improved dramatically from Merredin through to Dowerin. We had lunch in Merredin and got home in the early afternoon, giving us enough time to conquer the main part of the unpacking and cleaning. The rains over the last month had sported a fresh crop of weeds to deal with in the back yard. On entering the house though, there was a very noticeable smell of gas and Christine discovered that the oven was on a very low setting. No flame was present, it had probably gone out and the dregs of the bottle seeped out. We opened everything up and aired out the house, thankful that we did indeed have a house left. Perhaps an updated oven is in order or maybe we even turn the gas off when we leave would be smarter.

All in all it was a whirlwind trip, with some 8,500kms covered in a month. We keep saying we will slow down and take time to smell the daisies but somehow…….

The Red Centre – October 2018

October 7, 2018 / terry

Tuesday 25 September – We came off the Great Central Road a little beaten and happy to see a touch of civilization and paved roads. We passed the Olgas and Uluru before reaching the campgrounds at Yalara. We already knew that a regular camp site was out of the question but a large overflow area was in operation and we were in a position to be self sufficient. The line up was extensive, mostly Vic and WA cars, their school holidays matching. Finally, we headed to the overflow, a large open space with caravans and tents dotted haphazardly all over the place. Signs warned us that we needed our own toilet facilities because it was too far to walk to the camp ablutions. Neither was any water or rubbish facilities provided. Not bad for $30 a night!

Yulara has all the basic essentials with an excellent IGA, fuel at $2.11/L and limited take-away alcohol at a minimum $30 a bottle of wine. It is a place that gives the plastic card a good workout.

Wednesday 26 September – The morning saw us head to Uluru to take in the rock (after paying $25 a head to enter the National Park). The bikes were unloaded from the roof and we set off for a circumnavigation while John and Julie visited the cultural centre. It is a 12km ride around and the temperature was in the low 30s so riding rather than walking was the way to go. Only one boggy section forced us to walk and we completed the ride in around 1.5 hours, with stops to read the notes along the way. Uluru is truly a beautiful place. The variety of surface features and weathered features is amazing and the ever changing faces, shadows and colours make it seem like a living entity. When our ride was complete, John and Julie set off while we made lunch and sat opposite the point that is used as a climbing face to watch the continual straggle of people moving up and down the face. They looked like a line of ants on the move.

Around Uluru

The climbing of Uluru is a controversial issue. It will be banned on 26 October 2019 (the 34^th anniversary of the return of Uluru to its traditional owners). At the base of the climb is a large sign in a number of languages that clearly outlines the reasons the traditional owners do not want you to climb it. Put simply, this boils down to:

The climbing route is a sacred path of spiritual significance that is only taken by few Aboriginal men on special occasions.
People have been hurt and people have died when climbing Ayers Rock. The traditional owners feel responsible for these accidents.

We saw literally hundreds of people climbing up the rock but in the time we were there, not one stood in front of the sign to read it. The failure to actually engage with the issue probably upset me more than their decision to climb. There certainly seems to be an attitude of, “I’ve driven this bloody far so I’ll do what I want.”

The afternoon was spent back around Yalara settlement before heading out again with John and Julie in the late afternoon to catch the sunset colours on the rock from the viewing area. The parking area was packed with people set up with cameras, canapés, bubbly drinks and excitable children. Just as popular folklore maintains, the rock does go through quite a dramatic set of colour changes just prior to and after sunset. If anything, it seems to glow brighter just after the sun as sunk below the horizon. Ah! The big rock at sunset. Another box ticked.

Thursday 27 September – We were bad today. The plan was to do the Olgas and John and Julie got all geared up to head out early and get in all the walks. We lagged behind and then lazed around instead of hitting the walking trails. We have been to the Olgas before and just didn’t feel like walking so we luxuriated in a good slack day. We spent a bit of time exploring the shopping centre which was surprisingly well stocked with a variety of goods. It was pleasing to note that the majority of workers appeared to be indigenous, a far cry from other tourist centres around the outback, and that the jobs board was full of positions, both skilled and unskilled. Seeing the jobs board made me a bit less critical of the campground conditions. It could be that they would provide more services if they could get the staff.

By late afternoon, we decided we needed to pay some homage to the Olgas and drove out to the sand dune viewing area to take in a few perspectives of the range before heading back to camp. John and Julie had returned by this stage looking quite shattered after a very full day in the heat. They had managed to rack up every walk but were paying for it. Plans to go out after 8pm to see the moon rise over Uluru were abandoned.

Views of the Olgas (Kata Tjuta)

Friday 29 September – Today we broke camp, fuelled up and drove east then north to Kings Canyon. Along the way, we refuelled at the delightful little roadside stop of Curtin Springs that offered free camping, a far cry from the horrors of Yalara campground. Before turning off the Lasseter Highway onto the Luritja Road we took in the beautiful sight of Mt Conner, a huge flat topped plateau to the west of Uluru. The road swings north before turning north-west and following the George Gill Range. The vistas are constantly changing and a far cry from the vast plains that we had travelled across in previous days. We stopped at Kings Creek Resort, an inviting little spot just outside the Watarrka National Park and within an easy drive of Kings Canyon.

Kings Canyon Resort was also fully booked but had promised us an overflow area and assured access to a TV for the AFL Grand Final. We managed to score a good spot with some shade and very close to some ablutions. The resort is very well appointed, although looking a little tired. From our campsite, we had a magnificent view of the canyon itself and surrounding hills. Nearby, a track led to a ring of stones and logs that marked a paved “Sunset Viewing Area”, a great little touch. The only trouble was that instead of providing a facility that could bring guests together in the evening it was set up as licensed premises which meant that rocking up with a couple of cans and a chardy was out of the question. It was also out of the question to pay $8.50 for a can of Carlton Mid. We stayed in our camp and saved up for the Grand Final.

Saturday 30^th September – This is the day that will be forever revered as the great Eagles AFL win of 2018. We geared our day around the great event and got up at 6am, so we could get to the Canyon Rim walk early, before the heat set in, and allow enough time to bag a good seat in the pub.

The wind was up anyway, but the canyon took it and turned a fresh breeze into a howling gale. The wind tunnel effect pushed gusts up to around 80km/hr, making the first 500 step climb up to the rim of the canyon quite scary. Christine voiced a desire to turn back but we went back our teenage years and held hands for most of the walk to get her around the course. The 6km walk was expected to take 3-4 hours but we did it in 2 and a bit, and Christine’s adrenalin levels never dropped a bit. Aside from the fear of being blown over the edge by the sudden blasts of wind, the walk was outstanding, with incredible views of the plains beyond. Once up on top of the range, a broad expanse of domed formations, like a mini Bungle Bungles, presents. The drop over the edge is mostly sheer, with amazingly flat and straight rock falls of the past leaving perfectly faced canyon walls. The variation in land forms and rock structures makes it like you are looking at more than one canyon, the view changing at every turn. No previous canyon or gorge walk compares, and we have done plenty. Kings Canyon Rules!

Kings Canyon

We relaxed back in camp while John and Julie secured a prime table in the pub in readiness for the footy. We joined them with an hour to bounce down. By this time, the small room with two large screen TVs was occupied by a dozen or so Eagles supporters and another dozen of neutrals while out the back a much larger space was filling with Collingwood fans. When Collingwood kicked the first goal, the noise from out back was horrendous and after four more it was getting quite upsetting. I started to feel the way the Melbourne fans felt in the Preliminary Final. However, by the time the final few minutes came around and Dom Sheed kicked his magic goal, the noise in front drowned out the moans of the Collingwood faithful. It was the stuff of dreams.

Christine and I were once again the only ones in Eagles gear and it paid off. The publican came over and asked what we wanted to drink. Julie said she would have a white wine, Christine a red, and me, thinking Julie had asked for bubbly, said I’d have bubbly too. John ordered a beer. We all got our free drinks, except I got a whole bottle of good bubbly. Thanks Eagles! A great win all round. We left in a state of euphoria.

Sunday 1 October – Today we drove the Red Centre Way from Kings Canyon to Ormiston Gorge. The bulk of the trip, some 140kms, was unsealed. The unsealed part has not seen a grader for 18 months and was in very bad condition by any definition. Long stretches were devoid of any earth, the surface down to bare rock, and even that seem to be corrugated. We drove up on the side of the embankment seeking relief from the corrugations, we tried speeding up and slowing down. Nothing worked. It was bone jarring stuff.

We came across a 100 litre water tank in good condition, complete with protective cover, lying in the middle of the road. It was 100m down the track after a creek crossing so some poor unfortunate had taken the crossing too fast and ripped it out from underneath their camper. They weren’t far ahead because there was still water on the road. I stopped and made room on the roof rack for it, prepared to return it if we found the owners. We never did so we are still carrying it around. It will come in handy.

The scenery was nothing short of spectacular, like driving through the best of the Pilbara or Kimberley. The road starts to enter the region dominated by the magnificent West MacDonald Ranges, with numerous noteworthy peaks and a great many gorges. Every so often, there was a lookout or special feature to take in but some of these were ignored because we were driven to complete the unsealed section.

Finally, the bitumen road came and we stopped to pump up the tyres and shake off the dust. A short distance down the road was Gosse Bluff, a strangely named formation that suggested a single edifice of rock. What we found was a circle of low peaks and crags with an area of flat land in its centre. The formation is actually a crater formed by a 600 metre wide comet striking the Earth some 142 million years ago (I remember it happening). Later, we got to see the crater from a high lookout 20 km away and it looked just like one of the moon formations. Quite stunning.

We had to wait at Gosse Bluff for a while because the corrugations had damaged the electrical connection to John’s camper and a re-wiring job was needed. It was a pleasant enough place to sit except for the large number of honey bees. The very dry conditions meant they were desperate for water and they soon figured out that the water tank on our roof rack had some water left in it and an easy access point through the missing filler point. The top of our car became a mass of bees, as did the whole area. Julie and I avoided them but both Christine and John got stung. We left to wait for John further down the track, taking our bee swarm with us.

At one point on the drive, there was a sign indicating a rest stop with mobile phone reception. After days of no phone, this was worth a stop. We were greeted by the sight of a parabolic dish with a cradle to rest your phone.

As we headed east towards Glen Helen Resort, the scenery just kept getting better. The road ran parallel to the southern face of the West MacDonalds, a must do drive. Glen Helen Resort however, is not so inspiring. Situated on the site of a pretty little gorge (Glen Helen Gorge), it is a ramshackle collection of dongas, corrugated iron buildings and bough shelters. The carpark was in as bad a condition as the unsealed road. What a terrible advertisement for a so-called resort. You drive in on a nice bitumen road then drop over a nasty suspension damaging edge onto bare earth and rock that hasn’t seen a grader for ages. There is no apparent system of parking nor useful signage helping people line up for fuel. John needed fuel, which he purchased after a run-in with someone trying to jump the non-existent queue and we left.

Ormiston Gorge, only a few kilometres further on, was the exact opposite of Glen Helen. The National Park here is very well set up and has wonderful facilities, all for $10 a head per night. The camp ground is small and was full, but the ranger arranged for us to use the “coaches only” area, along with a few other late arrivals, and so we had our own set of hot showers and toilets. After a hell of a day’s travel, it was a wonderful end.

Monday October 1 – We rose quite early to fit in a walk of Ormiston Gorge before packing up. We took the “Ghost Gum Walk”, only 2.4km but quite tough because it climbs a series of steps and follow narrow trails cut into the shale cliffs to a lone ghost gum perched half way up the gorge’s northern face. The views are quite stunning. Ormiston is a very deep gorge by any standards, bigger than those in Karajini and most in the Kimberley. As with Kings Canyon, Christine needed the security of my hand because the pathways were often so narrow. I pictured us both plummeting to the bottom, hand in hand to the end. Thankfully, it didn’t happen and we reached the end of the walk intact. It amazes me how the level of protectiveness varies so much from location to location. Sometimes, handrails and fences are provided to excess and actually spoil the experience while in other places, a goat track carved into a shale hill side is deemed sufficient.

Ormiston Gorge

Once packed up, we drove east towards Alice Springs, skipping a lot of off-shoot sights. The West MacDonalds are easily worth four or five days. We did stop at the Ellery Big Hole, a pretty little gorge with a decent body of clean swimmable water. The four of us stood up to our knees in the icy water until we could no longer feel our toes. John and Christine eventually took the plunge but Julie and I felt that some of us needed to remain sane and refused a dunking. We also diverted into Simpsons Gap, a narrow gap in the mountain chain a mere 15kms or so from Alice itself. The temperature had climbed into the mid 30s but swimming was out of the question with the only water presenting as a stagnant green slime pool. We walked, we saw, we photographed, and pushed on to the Wintersun Caravan Park in Alice Springs.

The Red Centre Way – Namatjira Drive

We booked in for 3 nights while John and Julie chose to stay 2. We need some serious cleaning to rid the camper of the excess red dust. Alice will be a parting of the ways anyway, with us heading to Victoria and John and Julie aiming for the Eyre Peninsula. Who knows, we may meet up for the Nullarbor crossing.

Tuesday 2 October – Today was a day of relaxing, cleaning, reading, trying out the almost too cold swimming pool and wandering around Alice Springs. First stop was Bunnings (of course) for a few bits of necessary hardware but unfortunately, there was no sausage sizzle running. Another great stop was ANZAC Hill, a wonderful lookout right in the middle of town. This is the perfect spot to get a full understanding of the layout of Alice, set nestled between the West and East MacDonald Ranges.

We made a few purchases in town, including a HEMA Map book. We have been relying on the HEMA Map app on an Android tablet but it is not as good as the good old paper book when it comes to planning ahead.

Around Alice Springs

Wednesday 3 October – John and Julie were up early and packed up ready to hit the road. It is around 600km south to Coober Pedy, a full day with a van behind. We farewelled them, knowing that fate would probably bring us together again before we hit home.

The first job was to take the car down to Windscreen O’Brien to have the back window replaced. The guy down there was fantastic and very patient while Christine did a lot of phone work to ensure the RACWA and the National Windscreens O’Brien chain got their act sorted. She was a champ and everything got sorted in the best possible timeframe. It is good to be able to see through the back window again.

We did some more cleaning before the heat settled in. The days are hitting 35 degrees now and we are dependent on a good breeze for relief. We stocked up on alcohol too. Alice Springs has long had heavy restrictions on alcohol purchases but today a new initiative by the NT Government came into force. They have set a minimum price of $1.30 per standard drink. This means that the cheapest price that can be charged for a bottle of wine (approx 8 standard drinks) is $10.40, putting an end to all the very cheap wine flooding the market. Beer is largely unaffected because it already sells for more than the minimum. A 4L cask white wine would cost $50.70. It will be interesting to see how it goes. Other states are watching with interest and it may well be adopted elsewhere, although the states with wine industries would come under a lot of pressure from growers needing to move their lower quality wines.

Tomorrow we hit the road south and will find the lower temperatures welcome after the last few days. Of our time here, Kings Canyon was the big standout for me, a must visit place.

Great Central Road – September 2018

October 3, 2018 / terry

Thursday 20 September –We were packed and ready with the car and camper trailer loaded by the time John and Julie swung through Dowerin to start our big trip across the Great Central Road. We were on the road by 10:30 and lunched in Merredin before pushing on towards Coolgardie. We made a wonderful first night camp at Lake Douglas, a pretty little reservoir off the road between Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie. A roaring fire held off the cool of the evening and Christine’s slow cooked lamb done in the thermal cooker satisfied the bellies, along with a few beers and wines of course.

Friday 21 September – Kalgoorlie was meant to be by-passed but in the end we did go in to find a Super Cheap Auto store so John could buy a UHF radio. He had bought a hand-held but it was playing up so a new dash unit was in order. From there it was on to Menzies. For us, it was the first time north of Broad Arrow. The woodlands north of Kalgoorlie are some of the most beautiful anywhere, with gimlets and salmon gums creating a stunning area to drive through. The woodlands form part of the World’s largest surviving Mediterranean climate woodland.

Menzies was quiet, tiny and impeccably clean. The town was started in 1895 but a mere 10 years later, most miners had left. A beautiful stone town hall had been built in 1896 and a clock ordered in 1905 but the ship carrying it from England sank and the building remained clockless until 2000. Today, Menzies seems to be little more than a rest stop for the miners working around the district. A lot of people come to see the sculptures on nearby Lake Ballard (we didn’t go this time) or to have a coffee and cake at the cafe (which we did do this time).

From Menzies we headed out to a stop at Niagara Dam, built in 1896-7 for the railway as it pushed north to Leonora. It had a bit of water in it and made for a picturesque camping spot. We marveled at the history of the construction. The need for a water supply was identified in the WA Parliament with working starting 6 months later and the dam completed a further 9 months on. That’s a bit faster than the wheels of government turn these days. Another classic sight was the number plate collection adorning the roadhouse. They came from every corner of the planet and must have taken years to collect. Now, the roadhouse is unattended and the building locked behind a secure fence.

Next stop was the ghost town of Kookynie, served by a single pub that has survived the years. The pub was once one of four, all on a corner of the same crossroads. We had a cooling beer and inspected all the historical mementos decorating the walls. A few other groups of travellers had the same idea so there was a merry atmosphere. Willy, the local horse, obviously wanted to join in the fun and stood patiently at the front door waiting to be let in. He would peer through the windows on occasions. Apparently the proprietor would make up a meal of carrots for him and it was about time for a snack. We headed out to the cars to make our own lunch but Willy decided to join us and things got difficult, until he finally heard his own carrots being prepared and trotted off to the rear of the pub.

From Kookynie, 140kms of good dirt road took us to Malcolm, a rail shunting area about 30kms out of Leonora. Here another railway dam had been built, in packed earth this time rather than the concrete of Niagara. There was a good body of water present and lots of water birds. We set up camp right on the earth wall and relaxed in front of a very restful watery landscape. A flock of four pelican made a beautiful landing in front of us and a few darts fished for some unknown species of fish. Another camper had a go with some yabby nets but apparently the yabbies of yesteryear had all been eaten when carp and perch were somehow introduced.

Chicken Frajitas (John and Julie) maintained the standard of cuisine we had set for ourselves.

From Top Left – Menizes Town Hall, Menzies Pub, John and Julie’s Rig, Our rig in Leonora, Number plates Menzies Roadhouse

Niagara Dam, Malcolm Dam, Niagara Dam, Willy the horse at Kookynie Pub, Old Kookynie, Willy makes friends with John

Saturday 22 September – We decided to drive in to Leonora for a quick look before heading Laverton. Just as we neared the end of the gravel road out of the dam, a loud crack signaled the end of our back window in the car. A stone coming off the camper had shattered it. Fortunately, the window was fitted with a special UV film which held everything together and it really looked as though it would hold up for the trip across the Great Central Road. In Leonora, we bought some heavy duty duct tape and strengthened the bond on the outside. In hindsight, we should have covered the window with cardboard, as many others do. This is our second shattered rear window so we seem to be slow on the uptake.

Leonora is currently going through one of its periods of decline. The bustle of 2000 people a decade or so ago has dwindled to around 500 and the main street is full of boarded up shops. As with Menzies, everything is very neat and clean (apart from a layer of red dust). No doubt some new mining fad will see the people return.

We reached Laverton before lunch and set up camp in the caravan park to get ready for the Eagles- Melbourne Preliminary Final. The local pub, called the Desert Inn, had a great sports bar with big screen TV and we had front spot. I expected a larger crowd but there were only a few in the end to see the Eagles demolish the Ds. There was another group out the back in the beer garden that got noisier as the game progressed and a big guy rolled into the Sports Bar and let rip with a very loud “Go the Eagles!” He then proceeded to tell everyone that he could shout as much as he liked because he owned the pub. Julie was very quick off the marked and replied, “Good, you can shout us a drink then.” So we all got a round of drinks on the house. No one else seemed so lucky. The free round was probably the tipping point and we all staggered home mindful that public drunkenness in Laverton is probably not tolerated.

After the squid rings and wedges consumed during the footy we settled for a few nibbles for dinner.

Sunday 23 September – With everything packed tight, fuel containers full and tyre pressures down, we set forth on the start of the Great Central Road. Some people call this the “Gunbarrel” but that actually refers to another abandoned track further north. A few 4WD die hards use it but travelling on it is generally discouraged. The Great Central Road traverses the mostly aboriginal lands between Laverton and Uluru, a distance of 1,126km, largely unsealed but formed to a reasonable standard. The road passes through a number of Aboriginal communities where fuel and basic supplies can be bought. Two permits must be obtained and carried to traverse Aboriginal Lands, one for the WA part and one for the NT section. Both were obtained on-line and were free.

The road was in excellent condition,n at first with few signs of the promised heavy corrugations and bulldust sections. We kept the speed right down anyway to avoid damage to the rigs and stopped at regular intervals to check for things coming adrift. There was little to see, just endless plains of savannah land, mulga scrub and a scattering of trees. Even wildlife was scarce, with a few camel herds providing amusement. They do not appear the least bit afraid of humans and at one stage we caught up with John and Julie to find them stopped and completely surrounded by curious camels.

The most common sight was dead cars, mostly sedans with the odd 4WD thrown in. I was sorry that I didn’t start to count them out of Laverton because there were literally hundreds. All were burnt out and many lay upside down. A decent truck with a portable crusher and a crane could make good money out here.

We stopped at a little roadhouse called Tjukayiria to pay $2.26 a litre for fuel. The long bearded fellow there told us to be mindful of the fact that Warakurna (Giles) was closing at noon the next day for the Queen’s Birthday holiday and that they operated on NT time, making them close at 10:30am WA time. A few calculations told us that there was no way we would make it in time so we resolved to camp early, about 70kms out of Warburton and to make sure we could get between there and Docker River the next day. We found a secluded camp off the road and lit a roaring fire. The nights have been surprisingly mild. We were kitted out for some real cold stuff but some nights we managed to sit out in shorts and T-shirt.

Christine’s excellent spaghetti bolognaise capped off a great day.

From Top Left – Camels, Victory for the Eagles at Laverton Pub, A bush camp, Gill Pinnacle, Unveiling the camp oven.

Monday 24 September – After the usual pack up and breakfast, it was on towards Warburton. Not far out we spied what we thought was two bustards (bush turkeys), standing in the middle of the road. As we drew closer, I realised that rather than bustards with short legs, they were in fact black swans. They stared at our approach before taking to the sky. A short way on we crossed the Warburton River, a mere puddle, which explained why the swans preferred to stand on the road.

Warburton was a bit of an eye-opener. A heavily fortified compound served as a camp ground. Vehicles with smashed windscreens and lots of broken bits were in abundance. One battered 4WD with a full length roof rack had a huge red kangaroo on top. Whether it died from gunshot wounds, a spear or a semi trailer is not known but it was surely destined for the camp fire.

After Warbuton, the road deteriorated, with some 4 to 5km stretches of real bone shaking corrugations. The land was still pretty much flat and uninteresting for much of the way and the wildlife remained scarce.

We passed through Warakurna which, as predicted, was closed for the holiday and pushed on towards Docker River. After Warakurna, a few interesting landforms started to appear and a range of mountains in the distance gave us a focus. We made camp at the “Behind the Range” campsite, complete with amazing views of Gill Pinnacle and the surrounding ranges, brilliantly lit up as the sun set. A good bush fire was lit and Christine prepared a wonderful meal of Lamb Boulangere (chops, onion, leek, cabbage and potato) in the camp oven. It was another top meal. We have not let isolation beat out culinary needs.

Tuesday 25 September – The last leg of the GCR was ahead of us. The WA/NT border was only 20kms or so further on from the night camp. From reports down the road, we expected the road to deteriorate greatly on the NT side but were pleasantly surprised to find some roadworks on the go and a good stretch of freshly graded surface all the way into the Aboriginal Community of Docker River. John needed fuel but I calculated I could avoid the $2.45/L and make it to Yalara. We had to hang around and wait for the store to open at 10am but were soon on our way east following beside the Petermann Ranges.

We took a brief stop to look at Lasseter’s Cave, where Lasseter spent some four weeks or so after his camels bolted. He was helped by Aboriginals but died while attempting to walk the 140km to the Olgas.

As we head east, the groves of Desert Oaks become more prominent. The Desert Oak is a member of the casaurina family and not a true oak. They are a very majestic tree and provide a lot of much needed shade in a very arid environment.

The road did start to break up a bit and the corrugations deepen but overall, the surface was better than expected. The GCR emerges at the Olgas (Kata Tjuta) and the long awaited bitumen commences around the time the famed formation comes in view. From far to the west, the site of the Olgas is really amazing, probably the best aspect of all, and one that we had not seen when here previously. Still, it was with a huge sense of relief that we left the dust and corrugations behind and wound around the Olgas, past Uluru and on to the Yalara campground.

From Top Left – Lasseter’s Cave, Camp at Gill Pinnacle, Desert Oaks, Lasseter’s Cave, The Olgas

The GCR is one of those trips that just begs to be ticked off but in truth it does not have a lot going for it other than saving a lot of kilometres. It is mostly a long stretch of poor quality road with few attractions and a high chance of damage to vehicles. As a 4WD adventure it is not really very challenging other than bolting on all the bits that fall off the vehicles. Would we do it again? Probably not but then it has been ticked off the list.

Rome and The Vatican, Italy 2017

August 1, 2017 / terry

Rome 26-30 July

The trip from Naples to Rome was the most comfortable for several months, mainly because we were back to being able to use Flixbus. Somehow, the Flixbus line seems to be able to do what others can’t, make things work without fuss and on time. The trip took two and a half hours and was a direct route along the Autostrada so it was smooth and relaxing.

Things even went well once in Rome. The bus dropped us off at the bus station in Turbunia and it was a very short walk to the adjoining Metro station. It was so refreshing to walk around a bus and train station area that was neat and clean. Even the graffiti was far less than it had been in Naples. The Metro train whisked us five stations to Cavour then another 300m walk took us to our accommodation, although a couple of flights of nasty steps did get in the way.

Our apartment is set in what used to be a monastery right in the heart of old Rome. The apartments have been beautifully modernised and have all mod-cons, although nothing much in terms of a view. However, the view up the nearest street is one of the glorious Santa Marie Maggoire, a Papal Basillica that dates back to the 5^th Century AD. It is owned by the Vatican but remains on Italian soil. Back the other way and around a corner the street ends in the Colosseum, so we are certainly well placed. So much is easily walkable, the Roman Forum, the Piazza Venezia and the Trevi Fountain. Beautiful eateries and bars abound in this part of Rome. Just going for a stroll is a fantastic experience, with stunning piazzas, historical ruins and grand buildings visible from every vantage point. It is a true visual feast.

Ancient Rome

We booked up for a Segway tour as a way of getting to lots of places in the historical centre quickly and with a guide to explain things. The Segway tour of Paris we took back in 2012 has remained as a highlight of our last trip to Europe and this one proved no different. The group was small, an American, a couple of Norwegians and us. Together with the guide, Patricia, an Italian/German girl, we had a lot of laughs, mostly at Christine’s expense because she kept letting out little screams or calling out “Shit!” when she hit a bump or felt she might crash, which was quite often.

After a brief familiarisation and practice session we set off on our Segways, working our way through the ancient Roman Forums, the Forum Romanum, and the Forums of Julius Caesar, Augustus and Trajan. Then it was on to the Colloseum where the crowds were staggering. Inching our way through the huge throngs of people waiting to gain entry was actually a lot of fun and quite easy. Segways are so easy to control and so versatile.

The Segway Tour, showing The Forum Romanum, Colloseum, Constantine’s Arch and The Circus Maximus.

The Colloseum is one of those things that is more impressive and bigger in real life than the pictures. This is so often not the case but the sheer size and scale of the structure is quite breath taking. We have seen so many ancient sites and ruins on this trip but nothing quite stacks up to the Roman Forum and the Colloseum, all overlooked by the Palatine Hill, probably because of the sense that this is where it was all centred. Moving on we admired the Arch of Constantine then on to the huge Circus Maximus, the enormous arena featured in the chariot racing scenes of the movie Ben Hur. At its peak, the Circus Maximus was capable of seating more than 150,000 people, putting the MCG to shame. Around the outer parts of the seating structures, the porticos housed numerous shops and artisan stalls so the complex was an important part of Roman life even when not being used for games or events.

From the Circus Maximus we climbed up the Avertine Hill to get some terrific views over Rome and the River Tiber. It was a wonderful relief after all the hill climbing we have done to just glide up the hills on our Segways, whizzing past all the other tourists struggling up the streets in the heat. From the Avertine, we had to use the roads, which was a little daunting, but Patricia showed us how to fit in with the traffic and just go with the flow. We climbed the Capitoline Hill, the supposed site of the founding of Rome, and took in the amazing views over the Forum Romanum. I have always enjoyed reading Roman History, right from my early teenage years, and it was a very special to be able to look down on the places that had been the centre of so much history and home so many great people.

From the Capitoline Hill we worked our way back down to the end of the tour, a brilliant three hours of history, fun and the thrill of riding a Segway through one of the World’s most significant cities.

The Vatican City

A Metro trip took us across the River Tiber to the Vatican City. We had purchased some “Skip the Line” tickets on the Internet and we were so glad we did because the line for people waiting to get in was horribly long. The “Skip the Line” system operates across all the attractions and is basically a pay more and get in system, making you pay around 10€ each more than lining up in the case of the Vatican, but considerable more for The Colloseum. You have to book a specific time and tickets are limited. We had time to kill and had a coffee at a cafe opposite the entrance, waiting for about 40 minutes. The line did not appear to move in that time. When our appointed entry time came we just walked straight through.

The Vatican Museum is enormous, housing many of the Christian World’s finest art works. The complex of buildings is an art work in itself, with every ceiling, wall, door and window frame being something special. There are displays of Greek, Etruscan and Roman art works. Strangely, there are displays of Egyptian antiquities, purchased in the late Nineteenth Century by the Vatican. It defeats me how they can still justify keeping these pieces. They should be returned to Egypt.

Our main aim, as with most other visitors, is to see the four Raphael Rooms and Michaelangelo’s painting of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Both are located at the far end of the building complex away from the entrance, which means a very long walk through the halls to reach them. The guide books suggest a 20-30 minute walk without stops but it took us a little longer. The crowd is very manageable, controlled by the ticketing system but there are a great many beautiful distractions along the way. We are certainly not students of religious art but the works were simply glorious.

Along the way there are many fine classical sculptures, mostly nudes in the classical manner. The females are always demurely draped but the poor guys had mostly got the “chop”, their penises removed by various Popes through the ages. Some had weird looking fig leaf things covering their naughty bits but others had just been “done”. Apparently, the balls are OK, just not the other things.

One fascinating room was the Gallery of Maps, commissioned by Pope Gregory XIII in the 16^th Century. Skilled artists were brought from all over Italy to paint a series of enormous maps, depicting all the areas of the Italian Peninsula and islands. The major cities were also depicted in map form, leaving a lasting and significant historical record.

The Raphael Rooms date from the early 16^th Century and are simply stunning. Many of the frescoes depict quite violent episodes throughout early Christendom or stories from the Old Testament. The paintings adorn the walls and parts of the ceilings of four rooms, mostly used as reception rooms for Papal visits. Below the Raphael Rooms lies the famed Sistine Chapel, a small chapel but one of the best known because of Michaelangelo’s ceiling paintings, completed between 1503 and 1512. Art historians generally agree that it, along with the enormous Last Judgement that covers the altar wall, is one of the greatest artistic achievements of mankind. What I was surprised at, is just how small and relatively insignificant the centre piece of the ceiling is, the famous Creation of Adam, that is so recognisable and so frequently copied as a symbol of art. It is no bigger than the other panels, just more famous. It is a requirement of entry into the chapel that shoulders and legs be covered, causing a bit of anxiety for many of the female tourists who choose to wear the fashionable Italian fashions. Fortunately, the gap is filled by the numerous wrap sellers outside the Vatican who do a roaring trade. Inside the chapel, the visiting crowds are requested to remain silent and photography is not permitted. Al this is largely ignored of course, so at regular intervals, a very loud announcement screams out “Silence!”, which produced the required effect for 10 to 15 seconds before the noise returns. When someone is spied taking a photo, a guard will rush over and yell at them, so they look sheepish and put the phone down for a few minutes rest.

St Peter’s Square and Basillica, Vatican grounds.

After leaving the Vatican Museum, we walked around the vast walls of the city to re-enter at St Peter’s Square. This most famous of all Rome’s Plazas is certainly impressive and must be an awesome sight when it is filled with people for a Papal blessing or appearance. Backed by the huge St Peter’s Basillica, the square is framed by two enormous arcs of colonnades, producing a truly impressive sight. In the middle is an enormous obelisk, originally erected in Heliopolis in Egypt by Augustus then later moved to Rome by Caligula. All the way around the long colonnades was a heavy line of people, queued waiting to gain access to St Peter’s Basillica to climb to the top of the famous dome. Unlike the line to get into the Vatican, this one appeared to move, although slowly. We had no thoughts about even trying. We decided to leave that pleasure to the Pope.

We walked a few streets away from the Vatican until the menu prices at the restaurants dropped to an acceptable level and settled down for a sandwich and a beer, alongside a group of three Aussies (of Italian origin) from Melbourne. They had done the climb up the dome but had not waited in line, electing to pay the extra for “skip the line” tickets. It is really a bad system when you think about it but an absolute necessity if you want to get in to something.

Around Rome

We relied heavily on the Metro system to move around the city. With only two lines, the system is not extensive but it is cheap and very reliable. Even the crowds are not too bad, except near the Termini Station, which is the cross-link between the two lines and also the Central Railway Station. Here the crowds can be crushing and I even had to pull Christine back from the doors once when they started closing. Only a few weeks ago, a woman was dragged along the platform, caught in the doors. Plans are afoot to expand the Metro but money is always tight and progress is slow once they start because any digging means coming across ancient buildings and buried monuments.

There is also a tram system, quite old and noisy but useful for accessing areas that the Metro doesn’t go. There is also a bus but it has a poor reputation, even with locals. Using busses within a city is always our last option, mainly because they are difficult to work out unless you know where you are going and can recognise landmarks.

Around Rome. Our street and apartment is at bottom right.

It would be easy to spend days just visiting the many piazzas dotted across the city. Most are big splendid affairs, full of history and usually with an incredible fountain as a centre point. The Piazza Repubblica was not far from our apartment and is an enormous semi-circular piazza on the site of Diocletian’s Roman Baths. At its centre is the Fountain of the Nymphaids, depicting four nymphs fighting various creatures.

Of course, Rome’s most famous fountain is the Trevi Fountain. The fountain is situated at the junction of the modern water supply and Rome’s ancient Aqua Virgo aqueduct. Only a few weeks before our arrival, Rome’s Mayor had decreed that poor behaviour by tourists around Rome’s monuments must be stamped out and that throwing things into the water or bathing or washing in the fountains must stop. This was wrongly reported in the press as being a ban on throwing “three coins in the fountain”, a popular pastime with the Trevi Fountain signifying that one would return to Rome. This is still permitted. However, there were a number of police stationed around the fountain who would blow on whistles and point to people in the crowd. No one knew who they were pointing at or why, but then no one seemed to care. No one jumped in either, but there were coins flying everywhere. In fact, there is over 3000€ a day thrown into the Trevi Fountain, all thrown by the right hand over the left shoulder. The money is retrieved and used to support a supermarket for the city’s needy. Beyond all the hype, the fountain is certainly very beautiful, especially since a major refurbishment was undertaken and completed in 2015, leaving it all gleaming white and free of cracks or chips.

Around Rome, including The Trevi Fountain

All of Rome’s fountains are currently getting a lot of press, with the city in the grips of one of its worst ever droughts. Water supplies are becoming critical and there has been talk of closing down fountains. These are not the big display fountains that adorn the piazzas, but the tiny little continuously flowing faucets that are spread throughout the city to ensure that one can get a cold refreshing drink wherever one is. They are dotted all over the place, more than 2500 of them, all with a trickle of water and no tap. It is a luxury that Rome cannot afford in the current climate.

Our final packup was a moment of sadness. Although going home brings with it seeing family, neither of us reached the point where we had had enough of travel. Had we kept going, a major relocation would have been called for, maybe Scandinavia or Poland, because we were ready to leave Italy.

It is impossible to describe all the delights of Rome without writing a book. I think we could come back here many times and always find something new or interesting to see or do. Our scratchings have been very shallow and there is much remaining to be explored. Patricia, the guide on our Segway tour, described Rome as like a lasagne, with many layers. This is so true on both a historical level, with city built upon city, and also on a social level, with so many people all with different reasons for being in the Eternal City. We never did throw three coins in the fountain but I think we will be back one day.

Getting to the airport was so easy, a short walk to the Metro, a ride to Termini Station, then a very comfortable trip on the airport train (The Leonardo Express, 14€ each). It being Christine’s birthday, she wore a special Birthday Badge, which she shamelessly brought to the attention of the check-in girl. The girl apologised that she could not upgrade us to Business Class but did make a phone call and managed to get us front row seats, giving loads of extra legroom. It made all the difference to the 10 hour trip to Bangkok, although I had a guy next to me that just hogged the arm-rest between us for the entire trip. We had a rushed 40 minute layover, made tight by the increased security precautions in place for flights to Australia then a 6 hour flight home, all on Thai Airways. In the total flight time of around 17 hours, I slept about two hours and Christine about three so between us we did some serious movie watching.

We arrived in Perth to a twelve degree very wet day, dressed in shorts of course, bringing to an end nearly five months of travel and living out of our backpacks. I know the exhaustion will set in as we unpack. If we get too tired, we can always take a holiday somewhere.

GALLERIES:

Rome City

Vatican City

Naples, Pompeii, Herculaneum, Sorrento – Italy 2017

July 28, 2017 / terry

Naples 22-26 July

The ferry from Palermo was due into Naples around 6:30am so it was an early rise and out to reception with our bags to watch the entry into port. As the boat cruised in under the gaze of Mount Vesuvius, the notorious volcano, we were amazed at just how small it looks compared to the gigantic Mount Etna in Sicily. Vesuvius has not erupted since 1944 but the scientists are somewhat concerned about mounting pressures, including some building under Naples itself. Hopefully, it can hang on for another four days.

The problem with arriving so early is finding somewhere to kill time with heavy bags before getting access to accommodation. Our apartment hosts had promised access at 9am so we had a few hours. There was not much open as we made our way along the via Nuovo Marina but we eventually found a little cafe-bar serving coffee and croissant. Christine was wearing her Aussie cricket shirt and the proprietor was from Pakistan so we were most welcome and he used his limited English to strike up a bit of a conversation.

We found our apartment block, a clean and neat looking block set in an area of tight narrow streets. The streets were absolutely filthy, as were most of the buildings. Naples is famous for being dirty but it is hard to imagine just how filthy the streets can be. Litter is everywhere, obviously just discarded without a care. Dog crap is also a continual problem when walking and the streets are sometimes easier to walk on than the broken sidewalks. I find it quite depressing to think that the people of one of Europe’s foremost countries can actually live in these conditions, beautiful apartments on the inside, top quality clothes and the best of fashion yet streets that are in worse condition than parts of South East Asia. People just seem to shrug their shoulders and say, “That’s what it’s like here.”

After a wait, our host arrived to let us in to a very comfortable apartment on the fourth floor of a six storey block. The owners have a number of apartments and have themed each one with a colour. Ours is a pink theme, very pink, pink is everywhere. It gets quite dazzling at times. However, the apartment is comfortable and very well located, right on the edge of the historic centre and a block away from Corso Umberto 1, the main shopping precinct, where shops sell high fashion goods at Perth K-Mart prices. We located a nearby supermarket and found a lovely little fruit and veg shop across the road. Around the corner is a fishmonger with a big range of fresh seafood. We are settled in and know where the rubbish bins are.

Around Naples, with Vesuvius at the top. Our street is at top right and the ferry from Palermo in the centre.

Further up the hill beyond Corso Umberto and along via Duomo there is a tangle of tiny streets and alleyways that are quite delightful to walk through. They contain hundreds of touristic shops selling a wide variety of goods, but most prominent are the miniature models depicting working life scenes from old Naples. There are doctors, weavers, laundry workers, gardeners and every conceivable occupation, all in beautiful little miniature and each beavering away at their task. The dentist was rather grizzly and one of the doctors was working hard on someone’s buttocks.

Many of the larger buildings are undergoing extensive repairs, and are shrouded in mesh netting and scaffolding. Thousands more are in urgent need of attention. A decent earthquake, not all that uncommon in Naples, would take its toll. The Metro underground is being expanded as well, also causing a lot of disruption around the central historical part of the city. This can only be a good thing because reducing the number of cars would have to be a top priority. Cars choke every street and footpath, making walking in some places very difficult. Around a quarter of these cars appear to be permanently parked, covered in a thick layer of grime and squeezed into space leaving mere centimetres between each one. Most have scratches and bumps around all sides and no car more than a year old looks untouched. Those that do make it into the traffic spend most of their time at idle, trapped in the endless snarls, then accelerating hard when a gap opens up only to slam on the brakes a few seconds later. Many other European cities have simply banned cars and motorbikes from the central areas and rigidly enforced parking rules. If public transport is cheap and efficient, the need to own a car in a big city is lessened. All it needs is the will and determination to change, something I suspect is lacking in Naples. France and Germany already have a timeline for the end of petrol and diesel powered vehicles. Italy needs to catch up and Perth needs to start learning some lessons before it is too late. Naples is a vision of the future we can expect if we go on as we are.

Sorrento

Naples serves as a hub for excursions and there are too many choices of what to see and not enough time. We chose to catch a train to Sorrento to check out for ourselves whether the amazing reputation is warranted. We had a kilometre walk to the huge train station complex at Piazza Garibaldi, stopping along the way to walk through a side-street market that specialised in loud men shouting “Prego!” and piles of cheap odd fragments of clothing. The Piazza Garibaldi area is reputed to be the worst for pick pockets, in a city where petty theft is a major industry. We had gone prepared, with no credit cards, passports or excess cash and things stored in deep zipped pockets. I also had a “man bag” for other essentials for the day.

The train to Sorrento is the Circumvesuviana Line, a narrow gauge line that services Herculaneum, Pompeii and Sorrento, as well as dozens of villages around the base of the volcano Mt Vesuvius. I declare it to be the worst railway I have ever travelled on. It does not run as part of the normal Trenitalia system. The tickets can only be purchased at two little windows and each transaction is carried out at a snail’s pace, resulting in ridiculously long lines. Pickpockets move through the heavy crowds relieving people of their belongings (not kidding). We eventually got two tickets and located platform 3, just missing a train and having 30 minutes to wait for the next one. The crowds swelled along a lengthy platform to near bursting point, made worse by the fact that many people had luggage, using the train as a way of getting to Sorrento to stay. We struck up a conversation with a Scottish/Norwegian couple and there was a group of four Americans next to us. Finally, a train arrived and stopped with the last carriage nearly ten metres beyond us. The crowd surged on and somehow we managed to push our way onto an ancient dilapidated old carriage and find a spot, standing shoulder to shoulder. One of the Americans felt a hand in his pocket and confronted the culprit, who raised his hands, said sorry and made for the door. He and a mate got off as the train pulled into the first stop, just as another of the Americans found they had lifted her purse from her handbag, complete with credit cards and around 400€. I know how she felt after the same experience in Rimini. It just destroys you but in this case there is almost no defence.

The train was impossibly hot, terribly rattly and ridiculously overcrowded. It must be making a huge amount of money through Pompeii, Herculaneum and Sorrento but little appears to be going back into rolling stock. Thankfully, after Pompeii, about two thirds of the way along, more than half the crowd alighted and things settled down for the rest of the trip. At least we got to be uncomfortable sitting down.

Once we got to Sorrento, we ran into the crowds again. There were tour groups everywhere, each following a guide holding up a stick with a grubby worn fluffy doll of some description. We wandered down through the streets, admiring the beauty (and cleanliness) of the town. A maze of tiny alleyways were filled with the usual souvenir and craft shops, many featuring some really pretty local porcelain pieces. In places, the crowds thinned out, only to recur around the next bend. Sorrento is built on top of a long high rock cliff overlooking a lovely bay containing several small harbours. We arrived at a small park that provides a perfect lookout situation to gaze down at the crowds of swimmers and sunbathing masses below. A steep path is cut into the cliff and winds down in four long zigzags. The pathway looked like hard work but fortunately, there are twin elevators cut into the rock and provide easy access at a Euro a trip, money well spent.

We looked at the menu of a restaurant overlooking the cliff and gagged at the prices so decided to hang back a couple of blocks away from the water and pay half the amount. We found a converted 16^th Century monastery that was converted into a library of historic papers and books and served as an excellent restaurant.

Around Sorrento

The front of house spruiker was so entertaining and pretty successful at dragging people in. He like Australians and involved us in some of his banter. “Hey,“ he would call out to a passing couple, “How about a cold beer in a frosted mug? My friends here have had four (an exaggeration). They’re Australian.”

We shared a delicious prawn salad and an amazing spinach cannelloni, leaving feeling replenished but not full to bursting. That takes some doing in the restaurants in Italy because the serving sizes vary between enormous and gigantic. We have even overeaten when ordering only an appetizer.

After another wander through the streets, we used the elevators to descend to the beach areas. From below, it is easy to really appreciate the wonder of Sorrento. The work that has gone into bricking up parts of the cliff and constructing ramparts and walls is staggering. Beautiful (and expensive) hotels line the cliff tops, some having their own elevators that run down through the cliff to service the beach area. In Roman times, Sorrento was the summer residence of the rich, with villas sitting on top of the cliffs to catch the cooling breezes. I imagine the wealthy were carried up the pathways to the top.

We caught a high speed ferry back to Naples, a lot more expensive than the train but infinitely more comfortable and quicker. The motion of the boat across the Bay of Naples was soothing and we both slept most of the way.

In hindsight, we would have been far better off staying in Sorrento instead of Naples, despite the high cost of accommodation in areas near the centre and beach. It would have served just as well as a hub to visit Pompeii and been far more pleasant.

Herculaneum

Herculaneum is lesser known than Pompeii and closer to Naples. The original Roman city suffered the same fate as Pompeii in 79AD when Mount Vesuvius erupted, raining millions of tonnes of volcanic ash over the town and cities on its slopes, covering them for nearly two thousand years. Herculaneum was later built over as the modern day town of Ercolano, and it was not until the 17^th Century that knowledge of what lay beneath prompted the beginning of the extensive excavation program. Herculaneum (named after Hercules) was a port city, perched high on coastal cliffs. With the extensive infill from the volcanic ash and subsequent eruptions, the excavated city is nearly a kilometre inland and well below the current level of Ecolano.

To reach Herculaneum, we had to board the dreaded Circumvesuviana Line train again. We left it later in the day, hoping the crowds going through to Sorrento would have eased and we were right, the train being only filled to 90% capacity instead of 120%. The heat, sweat and odours of the previous day’s train were the same but this time we didn’t witness a pickpocket operation. Once at Ercolano, we had to walk down the main street to Herculaneum. The taxi, bus, restaurant and tour guide touts were out in force and showed signs of being persistent. After the heat of the train I was lacking in patience and yelled at the first guy that tried to press his case. Another girl crossed the road to secure our business and she got snapped at as well. They really didn’t care less but it made me feel much better.

The first sight of the ruins is from above, allowing an incredible overview of the city uncovered to date. There is still a great deal lying under modern day Ecolano, including a huge amphitheatre and a number of large public buildings and temples. These have been partly explored by tunnelling in from the existing excavations.

We paid our 11€ entrance fee, secured a map and an excellent guide book then set off to explore the ruins. Many areas and buildings remain open for the public to explore and wander, while some more fragile or important buildings have restricted access. The guidebook gave a terrific insight into the various buildings, many of them family homes, as well as various shops, bars, restaurants, bakeries and blacksmiths. Many buildings were complete except for the roof, the hot ash having set fire to the timbers or the roof structure being unable to support the crushing weight of the ash and rock. Not all timber was totally destroyed though, with some remaining in a charred and blackened state. Down at the dock area, the foreshore warehouses were filled with skeletons, over 300 of them, presumably of people who were sheltering in the beachside overhangs from the ash fall. We wandered the streets of the city and through the buildings for over an hour, using the guidebook to add meaning to the sights. The heat was oppressive and I wondered what it would have been like in Roman times during summer, when the necessary use of fire and the smells of animals, sewerage and people would have made conditions in the narrow rock lined streets unbearable.

Herculaneum

We found Herculaneum to be an amazing place and it demonstrates just how advanced the Romans were with their civic works and way of life. We have seen a lot of Roman ruins on this trip but to see them without the advanced state of decay that two thousand years of exposure brings is wonderful. A lot of people have told us that Herculaneum is a better experience than Pompeii itself. Tomorrow, we will find out. Unfortunately, it means another trip on the dreaded train.

Pompeii

Pompeii meant one last train trip, actually, two counting the return. We got a pleasant surprise when the train pulled in. It was a modern looking affair and actually had air-conditioning. Because we had waited until just after lunch, the crowds were also down so we had what almost amounted to a pleasant trip. We needed one because once at the Pompeii ticket area it was frustration plus. Two ticket windows serviced a line of at least two hundred people, probably more. The wait is often said to be over an hour so I guess we were lucky and managed tickets in a half hour. They are so inefficient! It is so bad that I can only assume it is deliberate and that they feel all foreigners on Italian soil need some form of punishment. I could ask a class of ten year old children to come up with a better system and they would produce at least five ways of selling tickets quicker. The line snakes down across an exposed concreted area under the full blare of the sun. A misting fan is thoughtfully supplied at one point, although I would have thought a patio roof or shade cloth would do a much better job. Finally, tickets in hand, we went through to pick up a map and guidebook. Sorry! No maps left. Tough luck about your 13€ payment but you can’t have all that you paid for. The ruins get 2.5 million visitors a year. I think the authorities can do better.

The entrance to the ancient town is through the Porta Marina, the gate that originally serviced the road to the coast, not very far away before the eruption. Once through the gate, a long straight road stretched out before us, bordered on each side by small buildings, similar in appearance to those of Herculaneum. But that is where the comparison ended. The road led to the Forum, the key part of all Roman cities, the place of government and worship. In only a short walk it appeared that Pompeii was a much more important and significant city than Herculaneum and the richness of the Forum and surrounding temples displayed its significance. However, this was not actually the case, Herculaneum being the richer of the two cities. The difference is that most of Pompeii had been uncovered whereas the majority of Herculaneum is still buried. At the time of the eruption in 79 AD, the city had a population of around 11,000 people. Founded by the Greeks in the 7^th Century BC, it was already an ancient city when it was covered and the buildings that have been preserved by the ash build-up ranged in age from almost new to five hundred years old. Therefore, there is a wide variety of architectures and building techniques in evidence.

The cobbled roads seemed to be either vehicular roads or pedestrian only roads, the later being bared to vehicular traffic with large barrier stones like bollards. The vehicular roads often bore the worn ruts of wheels worn over the centuries, further evidence that Pompeii was already a very old city when it was covered.

Pompeii

The whole area is enormous, covering around 68 hectares. Most of the city is a collection of houses, shops and workshops, much as any city. The Forum dominates, along with numerous large temples to various Gods and divinities. Further down the hill there is a large amphitheatre. Some of the houses are very large with private bathing facilities and magnificent reception courtyards. As with Herculaneum, most of the roofs were destroyed and many of the painted frescoes decorating the walls were damaged. Those that remain show the skill of the artists of the day.

What did surprise us both was the extent to which the Romans relied on brick to build. So many of the ruins that remain today feature stone and marble columns that I had assumed that these were the main materials used. Solid stone was in fact used in only the most important of buildings and most were actually built with brick columns and a cement plaster outer coating. In many other ruined cities, the brick structures have long since fallen and only the solid stone buildings remained over the centuries.

We were glad that we had deliberately left our tour of Pompeii to a day forecast as cooler and with a chance of rain. The rain did not eventuate, save a brief shower on the way home, but the clouds gave some relief from what would be a very hot and exposed environment amongst all the stone and brick buildings.

Eventually, the kilometres of walking and steady heat took its toll and we headed for the exit. We had looked forward to seeing the smaller items , the pottery, jewellery, weapons and so forth but there did not seem to be a display of these objects other than a small collection of pottery near the exit. There is a new rail station under construction one stop down from Pompeii called Antiquarian that I am assuming is part of a new project to house the smaller museum type pieces from Pompeii. It is difficult to really get information. Fortunately, we had both been to a magnificent exhibition of Pompeii relics at the WA Museum only a few years ago.

Which was better; Pompeii or Herculaneum? Pompeii won hands down in our opinion for the sheer size and scale of the city and the importance and grandeur of the large public buildings.

Summary

We came to Naples to use it as a hub to see Pompeii, Herculaneum and Sorrento. Naples itself did nothing for us, other than turn us off. It is a city that displays everything that is wrong and dysfunctional in Italy. It is dirty, crime ridden and crime controlled. The traffic is appalling and public infrastructure worse than many Third World countries we have visited. I acknowledge that we did not see all that Naples has to offer and that living in the area that is essentially the port side of the old town things may be more run-down than other areas but we did travel around a fair bit of the city and little that we saw really impressed.

We should have gone to Sorrento instead, paid a lot more for accommodation but been better placed to travel and enjoy the good parts of Campania. It would have made it more convenient to visit the Amalfi Coast, south of Sorrento, an area that time ruled out for us. Still, we wouldn’t know that unless we had been.

GALLERIES:

Sicily, Italy, 2017

July 23, 2017 / terry

Catania, Sicily 14-18 July

We had to catch a train up to Reggio Calabria Lido for a ferry across to Messina in Sicily. We thought we had things detailed with a 9am train but when we got there the board did not show anything until 9:40, which meant we missed the connecting ferry and had to wait until 11:05. By now, we are used to this sort of thing happening with Trenitalia and with transport in general. The ferry trip was a mere 35 minutes across the Straits of Messina and we walked away from the dock up to the central rail station. Since the dock area and around the train station is often the ugliest part of any city we were unable to form an opinion of Messina. There were several trains available to take us to Catania and we chose a 13:20 train to give us time for a bite to eat. We found a great eatery close to the station that served a wonderful potato and cheese bake concoction so we washed it down with a beer.

Back at the station, we set about purchasing some tickets from the ticket machine. As we were processing the payment at the auto ticket machine, a couple of African guys asked for help buying tickets. The machines will operate in English if it is selected and their English was fine but it was apparent that neither could read. They had a handful of coins each. We worked one on one stepping them through the selections. However, when they came to the type of ticket they both wanted to choose “Child” at half fare(3.80€). I told my guy that the conductor would fine him for cheating but he said he only had enough for a child fare. Unknown to me, Christine’s pupil was wanting the same. If we were working together we probably would have just agreed to buy the adult tickets for each one and be done with it but in the end both guys bought child tickets and thanked us profusely for our help.

We boarded the train on time (a good sign) and immediately encountered a conductor checking tickets, quite a rare event on regional trains in Italy. We worried for our African guys and I managed to watch the encounter with one from a distance. The conductor checked the ticket then reached for the notepad in his hip pocket and I thought he was gone. He went into a very good show of subservience and pleading until eventually the conductor scanned his ticket and moved on. Well done mate!

The train carried us south, under the shadow of the volcano, Mount Etna, the summit shrouded in a mixture of clouds and volcanic smoke. We passed through numerous small villages, all very neat and surrounded by lush gardens. Here, citrus and olive groves flourish in the rich volcanic soil and the market gardens are unbelievably productive. There are some upsides to constantly living under the threat of death by volcanic eruption.

We reached Taormina, a town of outstanding beauty perched along the cliffs under Mt Etna. Below us, a fortune in yachts and mega power boats lay at anchor in sparkling clear waters. The train stopped at the station, a lot of people got off and the police got on. What followed was a lot of talk and phone calls between train officials, police and a large number of people on the train that seemed to actually know what was going on. We didn’t know whether we were facing a terrorist threat, a hold up or what ever. No one seemed to be giving any information, either in Italian or English for quite some time. After 20 minutes or so, after which we had decided that the gun toting police were not too upset, we found out that there was once again a fire on the track ahead of us. One of the police came through the carriage and ascertained that we were not trying to get to Catania Airport. Those that were got taken off the train onto a bus. After the experience in Calabria a few day before, we were keen to stay on the train. After an hour and a half, the train got mobile again and we finally rattled into Catania Centrale.

We usually choose accommodation within a 1km walk of a rail station and we thought we had this time too. Off we went, following Google Map instructions with our 17kg backpacks on in 35°C heat until we had walked far enough to check on the distance left. We were struggling and still had another kilometer to go. Obviously we had stuffed up with the distance from station to our accommodation being around 2.5km. It was a major walk in trying conditions but we finally found our apartment in a little street called via Pulea off the major avenue of via Etnea. On the plus side, we had walked through some beautiful parts of Catania, not around the rail station, which was ugly and dirty as is the case in many cities, but later on when we walked through majestic streets and several glorious piazzas. It promised a lot of wonderful exploration.

The apartment provided the basics, including an air-conditioner that just managed to cope with the heat of Catania and a toilet cistern that needed special treatment to prevent it from producing a terrible death-rattle noise as the float level valve was closing. The owner was a collector of “stuff” and couldn’t bare to throw anything out. The trouble was that he hadn’t collected all the right stuff, including a kettle, a pot big enough to boil pasta or more than one dinner plate. Fortunately, he had a kindly neighbor who was happy to cover his deficiencies in his absence.

We found some locally made fresh ravioli at a nearby supermarket and enjoyed the first meal that hadn’t come from a kebab shop or panini stall since leaving Montenegro. Here we are now surrounded by many great looking restaurants and we are back to apartment living and cooking our own. Some good local Sicilian wine supplemented a beautiful meal.

Catania Old Town

The next morning we set out in city walking mode to explore the many sights in this World Heritage listed city. Catania has a distinctively different look to it that sets it apart from other Italian cities and it is the result of the use of a dark grey volcanic stone rather than the soft white limestone or sandstone so common elsewhere. That, along with heavy layer of soot and grime covering much of the lighter coloured stone does produce a dirty look but the lavish architecture and Baroque styling overcomes much of that. Part way down the via Etnea we stopped for a while in the Piazza Stesicoro to admire the remains of the 1^st Century Roman amphitheatre buried beneath the city. It was a huge stadium, originally built in 300BC but rebuilt in the 2^nd Century during the Empire. It was built of lava rock and marble and survived largely intact until a large earthquake destroyed it in the 17^th Century. Much of the original is now foundation for many other buildings and the portion visible represents only about 1/8^th of the oval shaped structure with seating and holding areas for gladiators, performers and the like.

Around Catania with the Roman Amphitheatre at the top.

We walked the length of via Etnea, marvelling at the sheer scale and opulence of the buildings and the magnificence of the piazzas. The best of the piazzas was the Piazza del Duomo with its powerful cathedral and the Elephant Fountain. The elephant is the symbol of Catania, although the exact reason is shrouded in mystery and folklore. Another fountain, the Fountaina dell’Amano, a beautiful white marble affair, sits in one corner of the Piazza next to via Giuseppe Garibaldi, another street of some renown. The fountain is one of the points where the Amenano River can be seen. It flows beneath the city in three arms. Originally it was a surface river but volcanic eruptions in 242BC and 1669 covered the river over. Beyond the fountain is the noise, bustle and smell of the famous fish markets of Catania. The smell is powerful but fresh and all the fish looks to be in top condition. The sellers yell and scream, whether they are battling each other or appealing to customers is unclear but it adds to the atmosphere. We watched a guy shelling small prawns by hand and the rate of about one a second and a couple of other guys butchering a huge swordfish.

A short distance down via Giuseppe Garibaldi we found a travel agent that does tours of Mount Etna to book a trip for Sunday. The young girl in the office was so entertaining and her description of the tour was a real performance. Later, we asked about hop on hop off bus tours but she was scornful and said we didn’t need it. She produced a map of Catania and proceeded to circle things and give the most amazing description of what there was to see and how to reach things. Her talents are so wasted in an office. We left the office with tickets for an Etna tour and a heads full of knowledge about what next to explore.

The Greek-Roman Theatre is a typical semi-circular stone outdoor theatre first built around 500BC by the Greeks then built on to by the Romans in the 1^st and 2^nd Centuries. Over the years it has been partially built over or covered and subsequently uncovered. Today it is in a condition that allows it to be used for regular performances. The lower sections of the seating is in marble and the upper sections in lava rock (bringing a cushion to sit on would be a must). At its height it catered for an audience of 7000. We enjoyed exploring the labyrinths and storage areas behind the scenes and underneath the seating areas. It is incredible to think of the story behind this place, interwoven with some of the great events of history and bound up with the eruptions of Mount Etna over the centuries. It is also sad that so much of one of the great buildings of antiquity was so carelessly built over during the 19^th and early 20^th Centuries.

The Greco-Roman Theatre in Catania

We pushed on to the Castello Ursina, a 13^th Century castle and now a museum. When it was first built it was on a cliff overlooking the sea but it is now a kilometer inland after lava flows from Mount Etna and a series of earthquakes changed the landscape. Even the original moat was filled in with a lava flow in 1693. It is quite amazing where humans choose to live.

On the way home back up the long stretch of via Etnea, we stopped off at the huge sprawl of street markets that fill the streets and alleyways off the main street. If we had more luggage space it would be possible to buy a lot of very cheap clothing and shoes at these markets. Bathers are particularly prominent and one can see two piece sets for as low as 6€ a set. It is a teenager’s dream.

Mount Etna

Our trip to Mount Etna was wonderful, one of the highlights of the trip so far. A very funny and chatty guide picked us up from our apartment in a not so new Nissan 4 wheel drive and we squeezed in along with a young French couple and a young Italian couple. The guide, Andreas, talked non-stop on the drive up the mountain. He had to really because he had to say everything three times, in Italian, French and English. Like all Italians, he spoke with his hands and made plenty of eye contact the whole time. The trouble was he was driving! He was a real riot but I must admit he did seem to know where he was going and the poor exhibition of attentive driving never seemed to put us in danger so we just accepted it.

The drive took us to the South Base Camp at about 2000m above sea level. Along the way we stopped once to look out over the view of Catania below us. As we got back in the car, the rain started and by the time we got to the Base Camp it was pelting down. Fortunately, we had been advised to take jackets against cold winds and we had packed raincoats with hoods so we just set off anyway. It was cold when the wind was up but the rain eased as we climbed up to the first set of craters. The whole scene is like a lunar landscape, excepting the odd bits of low vegetation and a few cafes and small pubs that service the tourists. There are several accessible craters (not currently active) in the immediate area and an enormous lava flow that snakes down the mountain and stops at the road, right next to one of the pubs. The surrounding area is a mixture of black loose volcanic soil and ash, hard jagged lava flows and iron stained basalt that glows a beautiful shade of red. That marks the furthest extent of the flow of 2011. We climbed on foot up another 200m of altitude along a path carved out of the volcanic ash to look down into a larger crater. The climb was challenging and the descent, down a narrow path of very loose material even more so. Christine was very controlled and only screamed a few times.

As we got back into the car, a thick cloud descended on us, cutting visibility to only a few metres. Andreas drove very slowly, avoiding pedestrians as they materialized out of the heavy fog until eventually the mist cleared and we were able to reach the next destination. We stopped at the entrance to a small lava cave. It had been formed in the 1972 eruption but only discovered when road works after the 2011 eruption uncovered it. We donned hard hats and got torches to climb down beneath the roadway and into the tunnel. Much of the wall was smooth, apparently the result of lava cooling then re-melting in a later eruption and in some places there was a distinct yellow staining indicating the presence of sulphur. The roof of the cave was filled with stalactite type formations which were actually solidified drips of molten lava. We could only go a short distance before an eight metre drop halted us. There are over 200 known lava caves dotted around the mountain.

Exploring Mt Etna

After the cave we pushed on, stopping at a vantage point to look out over the Valle del Bove, a huge valley on the East slope which is an enormous caldera or collapsed volcano. A gigantic magma flow is the main feature, a lot of it created during the big eruption of 1793. At the carpark to the lookout, Andreas, knowing we were Australian, pointed out the National Park rules on a sign that depicted a kangaroo on a leash and stated that it was forbidden to bring exotic animals into the park. What made them pick on a kangaroo is anyone’s guess.

As we descended the mountain, we made a final stop at a village produce outlet to sample local Sicilian produce. We normally hate this part of any tour, mainly included to get a commission payment for the driver. This one was different and we spent a great half hour wandering around sampling different honeys, amazing olive oils with a variety of infusions, some interesting liqueurs, wines, pesto and other assorted tasty morsels. Often you can’t think about buying anything because you don’t want to lug a large container of stuff around as you travel but they made small quantities of the produce available at very reasonable prices. We bought some Pistachio Liqueur, a beautiful pesto sauce and some rosemary infused olive oil.

All in all we had a fantastic day, well worth the 55€ each for the day. I’ve always wondered why humans would choose to live on the slopes of an active volcano and suffer the death and destruction that occurs at intervals throughout history but I guess it is different when you are born and bred in the area. As Andreas put it, Catanese regard Etna as “The Mountain”, a lady of different moods. The extreme richness of the soil and agricultural areas shows how the volcano repays its debts.

Syracuse

We had one more day to use on excursions from Catania and it basically fell into a choice between Taormina and Syracuse. Both offered incredible history and beautiful old towns, Syracuse more so but Taormina offered the amazing coastal views. Andreas, our guide on the Entna tour, along with the Italian couple on the tour, voted for Syracuse. Andreas felt that Taormina was worth a half day at best and didn’t offer nearly as much as Syracuse. We had at least seen the gorgeous coastline and Bay of Taormina from the train on the trip from Messina so we took their advice and went to Syracuse. We came home exhausted but far from disappointed.

The local bus system in Catania let us down badly (as usual). We waited at a bus stop in via Etnea for 40 minutes without a sign of a bus. Other people came and sat, then just gave up and left. A guy at the botanical garden next door just said that the buses were very unreliable and shrugged his shoulders. In the end we walked a kilometre down via Etnea and got on the new Metro system to travel one stop and get out at Giovanni XXIII Station near the rail and bus station. Then we spent half an hour wandering around asking people about a bus to Syracuse. One ticket seller had a sign up saying “Urban Bus Tickets only. No advice given.” I shuddered as Christine went and asked him about Syracuse. She was lucky, given the sign, to just get a sharp reply of “No!” Finally, we found that the regional buses left from another bus station about 200m away, bought our ticket and just made a bus, leaving Catania just under two hours after leaving home.

The 55kms between Catania and Syracuse is largely filled with heavy industry on the coast and mixed agriculture further inland. The volcanic influence can still be seen in the soil and things grow very well. As we drove into Syracuse, I started to question whether we had made the right choice because we weren’t seeing much more than blocks of apartments, shopping centres and some large areas of vacant land filled with weeds. Even when we got out of the bus and walked the length of Corso Umberto towards the island of Ortigia, which houses the medieval part of the city, things failed to impress. Once over the bridge and onto the island, it changed for the better.

By this time it was midday so we decided to sit, relax, have a beer and share a pizza. A table of Aussies were next to us so we exchanged a few “Oi Oi Ois”. It was tempting to just settle in for the day and get back on the bus later but we had some serious exploring to do.

Syracuse was one of the most important of ancient Greek cities, certainly amongst those outside of Greece itself. The great mathematician and scientist Archimedes was one of its famous inhabitants, killed in Syracuse during the Roman invasion of 212BC. We checked out the ruins of a Temple to Apollo, Greek in origin and built in 570BC, marvelling at the sheer age of the structure and the skill of the stone masons. Over the years, the temple had been repurposed as Byzantine church, an Islamic Mosque, a Norman church and Spanish barracks. Another amazing example of this repurposing of Greek temples can be found in the beautiful cathedral Santa Maria delle Colonne. The magnificent baroque church is built around the Temple of Athena from Greek times and the Doric columns of the temple can still be seen embedded in the walls of the church.

Ortigia Island, Syracuse

We strolled along the beautiful Foro Italico, a seaside promenade and admired the beautiful freshwater spring and pond called the Fonte Arethusa, only one of two places in Europe where papyrus reeds grow wild. Some small shops around the area featured paintings on papyrus grass paper.

Unfortunately, the major attractions of Syracuse are spilt into two areas, the Ortigia Island area and the Archaeological Park area a couple of kilometres inland. Both need visiting but the distance apart is an issue. We solved the problem with a “Hop On Hop Off Bus”. We have avoided these things of late because they usually represent very poor value for money. Not so with this one, a mere 5€ buying a whole day of touring with English commentary. They are also frequent with a regular 30 minute interval, so we headed for Piazza Archimedes and hopped on.

On alighting at the Archaeological Park we looked around for the entrance. Eventually, on the far side of the car park there was a sign advertising tickets. We entered to find a young man seated behind a glass screen reading his phone and looking bored. No sign was evident to tell us the entrance cost. He barely looked up and said “10€ each”. We did a jaw drop and offered a 50€ note but he waved his hand and shook his head. It was 2pm so what the hell had he done with the other takings if he couldn’t change a 50? We reluctantly gave him a 20€ note, leaving us without change. He grunted and pushed two tickets under the screen and went back to his phone. “What? No map or information?” He shook his head. We left, muttering about a crap 20€ spent. Outside, we realized we had no idea of where to go next. No signs, no maps, nothing. We went back in and asked but he just shrugged and said, “No, nothing.” We had to leave the car park, cross a major road and head down a driveway to find the entrance, where we found we could have bought the same tickets anyway. Still no maps, and as we were to find later, no signage in English either. I think they have missed something here.

The attractions inside the Archaeological Park are wonderful. The main feature is a huge Greek Theatre, in good enough condition to be still used today, although wooden planks cover the stone decks of old to preserve our modern buttocks. The original theatre was built in 470BC and was one of the largest and most important in the Greek world. It catered for 15,000 spectators. Incredibly, the theatre was not built up from stone blocks but actually carved out of solid limestone. The seating therefore is one huge solid piece. Given the current controversy about Perth’s new stadium it is mind blowing that the Greeks could have achieved this 2,500 years ago.

Syracuse Archaeological Park – The Greek Theatre

Underneath the theatre is an area with ancient quarries and a couple of huge caverns. It has never really been established whether the caverns are natural or man made but the largest and most spectacular, the Ear of Dionysis, is most probably natural, caused by water seepage many millennia ago. It served as a prison in ancient times and had amazing acoustic properties, which along with the shape of the entrance leads to the name.

Syracuse Archaeological Park – Ear of Dyonisis, Roman Amphitheatre and the Rope Maker’s Cavern

Another theatre is a Roman amphitheatre, built in the 1^st Century. It is not as big as the one on Catania nor as well preserved as the one on Verona but it is certainly impressive. The Romans built the amphitheatre out of carved blocks, unlike the Greek one and it has shown a lot more erosion. Surprisingly, there appears to have been no effort made to control weed growth in and around the ruins. I would have thought some carefully controlled use of herbicides and gardening would have been in order.

Collectively, the ruins represent an amazing experience that enhances an appreciation of the life of the ancients. They managed to create so much with so little but the thing that always strikes me is the sheer sense of determination in their endeavours.

We managed to just catch a bus as we left the park and had a short walk back to the main bus station for a bus back to Catania. Most of that ride was spent asleep after all the walking. By the time we had caught a metro to a station about 1km further up via Etnea from our apartment and walked down the hill to home we had covered just on 10km for the day. Syracuse was done and dusted, definitely a must see when in Sicily.

Palermo 18-21 July

Not wanting to trust the buses again, we walked a kilometre to the Metro station and then on to the rail station for a train to Palermo. The train trip was fast and comfortable, with no fires across the tracks, and took about three hours. The countryside along the way was quite beautiful. In the early stages, we got changing views of Mount Etna as the route skirted around its base. There seemed to be more smoke issuing forth than there had been on previous days. Once into the interior of Sicily, the country became quite reminiscent of Australia, the brown fields of newly cut hay mixed with very common plantings of eucalyptus trees adding to the effect. With the numerous hills and valleys it bought to mind parts of NSW inland of the Blue Mountains.

Once in Palermo, we tossed up how to get to our apartment, more than a walk away from the station. We had directions for the bus and knew we needed a 101 bus to Poliamentia-Liberta bus stop. The 101 was easy to find, they were common. How to buy a ticket was more of a puzzle. We got on one bus and Christine went to buy a ticket from the driver. “No” and he pointed vaguely to a building. I got off with the bags but the doors shut and the bus started off, with Christine still on board. She had to shout at the driver to open the doors and let her off. Christine took off with some American girls to locate the ticket office. There wasn’t one but they did find the newsagent that sold them. Back with tickets, we tried to get on the next bus, behind the American girls but it filled up and we couldn’t manage with our big backpacks so we got off again. We got on the next bus and took off. As we went, we realised that there was no signage to indicate bus stops so all we could do was use Google Maps and wait until we got close enough to get off and walk. I don’t know how people managed to travel before Google Maps. Finally, we found the place, met Carmello, the host, and settled in to what was a large and comfortable apartment. We even have rooms we won’t bother to use.

After unpacking (getting a little sick of that operation) we walked a block to via Liberta, one of the main drags in Palermo and settled down at a gorgeous little restaurant for some fried mozzarella cheese, potato frittas and bruchetta, all washed down with a beer of course. Then it was off to the supermarket to stock up and home to bed. Life is definitely catching up of late and the bones and feet are protesting somewhat.

Palermo is very reminiscent of Spain, possibly because of its history. It has been described as the most conquered city in Europe and almost every foreign power has controlled it at some point in history. The Arab influence is present and has even returned to some extent with the influx of refugees from Libya and Tunisia in recent years. It had a golden age in the 12^th Century when under the control of Norman invaders.

Around Palermo

We found Palermo to be very busy, crowded and the traffic was terrible. The road system fails to support the number of cars. The bus system is chaotic and we found our experience of the first day was repeated on other routes. The crowds on the buses are terrible and people don’t seem to make way for others or consider their needs. We saw elderly people struggle to get through the crowd so they could get off. They are developing underground Metro systems and tramways but these have a way to go.

Near our apartment, the large arterial via Liberta ran for most of the length of the modern part of the city and provided a lovely tree lined avenue filled with high fashion shops and other places that hold little attraction for us. However, it was lovely to stroll along when the temperature allowed. There are several large piazzas spread around the city and some buildings of note, but much of the older town was destroyed in WWII and was not rebuilt.

The city is surrounded by towering peaks, one beautiful massive marking the western end of the Bay of Palermo. Beyond that is Mondello, famed for its long white sand beach. We took a crushing 30 minute bus ride to Mondello for a day at the beach. So did everyone else! The beach was the best we have encountered so far in Italy but it was VERY crowded. So much of the beach is given up to private hirers who charge 15-25€ per person for a spot amongst the sea of umbrellas and bathing huts. We strolled the length of the bay before returning and selecting an area of public beach where we could dump our stuff and access the water without treading on bodies. The water was clean, warm and not nearly as crowded as the sand. Not all that many people actually get wet.

Cefalu

On our last day in Sicily, we had a day to kill, having left our apartment but the boat to Naples not leaving until 8pm, so we decided to spend the day in Cefalu, a seaside town about an hour’s train journey to the east of Palermo. Our host was able to store our bags for the day so we headed off, once more on the local bus to the central train station. As before, the bus was impossibly crowded. At one point, I had two guys sandwiching me. I actually felt the zip on my shorts pocket slide down. I turned quickly and a guy in a black shirt eased away through the crowd to the door and alighted at the next stop. After being pick pocketed while in a bus line in Rimini, I keep my wallet on a lanyard anyway but this was yet another attempt. Later, while boarding another very crowded bus on the way back, I felt a movement on my backpack and when we got on board we found the zip undone. I suppose it can be seen as good practice for Naples!

The train journey was very beautiful, following the coastline along many headlands and lovely little bays and beaches. As we pulled into Cefalu, it looked an absolute picture, with a prominent high headland, a cluster of stone buildings hugging the low cliffs and a sweeping white sand beach filled with umbrellas. The train station is mercifully close to the town itself and we spent a fascinating hour exploring the narrow streets and walkways, stopping to admire some of the more notable buildings. The cathedral or duomo dominates, as they do in most European cities. The town had a healthy population of tourists but not so many as to make moving around difficult.

We stopped at a shady restaurant overlooking the beach for lunch and ordered a Sicilian platter to share and got a wonderful mix of meats, smoked salmon, a couple of fresh oysters and salad, with a basket of ultra fresh bread to help it down. It was the perfect mix; especially with a four hop beer (we don’t usually count the hops).

Fed and watered, we hit the beach, hiring an umbrella with a couple of lounges to spend a few lazy hours, swimming, dozing and reading. It was nowhere near as crowded as Mondello Beach and the water was much better, crystal clear and a perfect temperature.

Beautiful Cefalu

By the time we had caught a train, followed by a bus, back to the apartments to collect our gear we were fairly done in but we managed to re-organise our beach stuff and load up the big packs for the kilometre walk down to the ferry for embarkation to Naples. We boarded about 7pm, found our neat little cabin and had a much needed shower before finding a bite to eat. It was all we could do to stay out on deck to watch the ship leave harbour at 8:15 before retiring to our cabin. Naples awaits, but not before we have had a damn good sleep.

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