Trav's Atlas Travels

A Kiwi Experience

2010-02-18T13:43:00.020+13:00

The return home was expected to be difficult, but in reality, it wasn’t nearly as bad as anticipated. A rather nonchalant feeling really, as if returning home from a 20 month adventure around the world was something people just do; no big deal. When I think back, it was pretty much the same feeling I felt when I departed.

If I had not returned to a home in such a state of disrepair, I might have actually enjoyed it. Alas, the next day I set about sorting it, first job - getting the water running. The jobs would keep me occupied all month as everything had to be done come Christmas as we were hosting the family this year.

It wasn’t just Dad putting me to work, Mum had a list too concerning the landscaping at her place in Havelock.

Back in the Manawatu, the weather was actually pretty good in the lead up to Christmas.

Cordyline australis (C. banksii) AKA the Cabbage Tree by our gateway. They‘re my new favourite tree at the moment.
Courtz (my twin) and I took a trip down memory lane visiting our old Primary School. Courtz is back in NZ for the summer too which has been great as I haven’t seen a lot of her over the last 9 years.

25.12.09 AD

Once Christmas was out of the way, I quickly prepared for my next spot of travelling; six weeks in the South Island. By the night of the 31^st Dec I was amongst friends in the Marlborough Sounds.

Marcus, our Savior, had done the bulk of organizing of the bach and boat for New Years. Even though he lives in Stockholm and most of his friends live in Christchurch. A miracle of logistics and organization.

500 was the card game of choice, killing untold hours.

K-man!

On the night of the 31^st there were some 32 of us, although it never felt like that many. Regardless, some of the best people you could ever hope to met.

After New Years in the sounds, Sam and I made our way to Wainui (a small place in Akaroa Harbour) to spend a week with his family at their holiday home. It has to be said again that Kevin, Christine and Emma were great (Sam, i give you a pass mark) and I greatly enjoyed the Ward’s hospitality.

It’s a beautiful and relaxed spot.

The weather was on our side, but somehow we never made much use of the deck.

Their house backs onto a reserve strip so native birds are common.

We got one day of fishing in before the boat sprung a leak. Sam and Kevin’s expression should give you a hint of how many fish we caught. Word is the only thing you catch in Akaroa Harbour is a cold.

Emma, Sam and I attempted to climb the highest part of the ridge that overlooks Wainui.

Eventually Sam and I found a route to the top; the Akaroa Heads are in the background.

With NY’s and my time in Wainui behind me the next leg of my S.I. trip began; a 3 week, 1,300km cycle tour from Christchurch to Te Anau via the Westcoast. I was rather anxious about it; however it was too late to back out. My first stop was at the Rouses (a friend’s parents) place near Geraldine. Here Trevor stands amongst some of their lavender they grow to produce oil used in Leonie’s Lavender products.

Again I reluctantly left the hospitality of some more great Canterbury folk to hit the road heading towards Arthurs Pass, taking the gravel road shortcut via Lake Coleridge. The weather and scenery through the mountains quickly cured my anxiety.
Major repairs en-route: both the pannier bag frames spontaneously fractured requiring a ‘temporary fix’ with tent pegs and ties that would thankfully last the remaining 1,100km.

Hokitika put on some magic weather where I spent a memorable stay with friends, especially the ‘fush and chups’ on the beach – Kiwi as! Cheers Sabbie!

I thought this was worth the effort of stopping and unpacking to get at the camera, an old railway bridge along the now disused coastal line south of Hoki.

At this point, I reached the point of the trip – seeing parts of the S.I. I had never before.

The Franz Joseph Glacier was one such sight. Depending how good your eyes are, you might be able to make out a line of people in the lower right of the photo.

The North has Pohotakawa, the Westcoast equivalent is Rata, beautiful Rata.

Straight from a 100% Pure New Zealand advert, the sunset from the Wetcoasts Gillespie’s Beach was stunning and relatively untouched.

The Westcoast didn’t live up to its reputation as I experienced great weather except for the day I rode from Haast up over the Haast Pass to Lake Wanaka. At least 80% of the traffic between Hoki and Wanaka were tourist vehicles; the Westcoast nature surely is stunning and the stream water unbelievably clear.

Lakeside DOC camp ground: $6 a night.

Rain threatens from the Hunter Valley at the northern end of Lake Hawea.

Roadside cones.

On account of the sand flies much of my time on the Westcoast was spend ‘indoors’ to avoid the little buggers, but as I approached Wanaka they became less of a problem.

Cromwell, Lake Dunstan and the Clutha river; scenery like this made the daily 70kms a lot easier.

Clyde Dam.

I had never seen Central Otago, so when I heard of the Railtrail I jumped at the idea of riding along the 150km old railway line (removed to make way for the cycle way) from Clyde around to Middlemarch taking in all the cliché Speights/Mainland Cheese scenes along the way.

A typical trail scene with the gentle grade of the trail.

The trail takes you through the odd tunnel…

…over the odd viaduct. I tented next to this one on the first night.

I really enjoyed riding through this big-sky farmland country, and even though I spoke with half a dozen friendly locals, it would have been better to share it all with a cycle partner.

I gave myself 3 days to get to Middlemarch and I was surprised how few people I came across. I’m told Feb-April (as the trees leaves change colour) is the busiest period with all the local accommodation and cafes doing a roaring trade; which is great for these isolated small communities.

From Middlemarch I took the bus back to Cromwell to save myself 3 days of backtracking, Queenstown was next on the list. I can see why it’s the tourist Mecca it is, the scenery certainly is spectacular.

Anything agricultural always takes my eye; especially in the Central South Island where the colours are strangely appealing.

18 days of riding after leaving Christchurch I pulled into Marius’ in Te Anau where I was greeted with a high five and a beer (a DB would have been more appropriate don’t you think?). My timing couldn’t have been better as Mario had the day off and it rained that next day.

The rain is not so good for biking, but it was ideal for the next days events – kayaking in Milford Sound where Marius is a kayak guide for tourists.

The heavy rain had the effect of making the steep granite walls of the fiords weep with a thousand waterfalls which really left me in awe. I had heard that Fiordland was a must-see, but I never imagined it could have been that spectacular.

To top off the perfect Milford experience. The weather cleared up in the afternoon to revel the surrounding peaks.

Mario would finally get on the FB FD board in front of New Zealand’s quintessential landmark.

I haven’t seen everything, but I’m certain that Fiordland is one of the top National Parks in the world; on a nice day it’s near impossible to beat.

Eglinton Valley.

No rest for the wicked, the next morning at 0545 we were up heading out on another of Mario’s Kayaking trips, this time though it was a 2 day trip to Doubtful Sound. We would have to cross Lake Manapouri to West Arm and cross over to Deep Cove (the outlet of the Manapouri hydro-electric power station).

I was lucky with the weather the week I was down, parts of Fiordland get over 5,000mm of rain a year (to put that perspective Auckland gets about 1,800mm).

It was a small group Marius was guiding. Here we sit out in the breeze to avoid the sand flies around our tents in the bush.

However, as soon as the wind dies down the ravenous blood-sucking bar#tards swarm. Your only defense is to cover yourself. The only (but a significant) detraction from what would otherwise be a slice of paradise.

The Southern Cross and moonlit foreground.

Come morning it looked like another perfect day in the making.

The native Kea.

More Rata.

Another University friend Rouse joined us later in the week, so while he paddled around with Mario and that days group I hiked to Lake Marian - truly a slice a paradise as there were no sand flies!!!

Again, the clarity of the waterways impressed and enticed.

Fiordland National Park is covered with U-shaped glacial valleys; a relic of the past ice age.

A swing rope at a DOC roadside camp site: too perfect.

Even though you can see the stony bottom, it’s surprisingly deep on account of its clarity.

Is there are pattern forming here (pristine weather and stunning scenery)?

I got a ride back north to Christchurch with Rouse, but not before stopping off at Lake Hawea for another dip.

The McKenzie basin near Twizel, areas like this are currently under threat from development into factory style dairy farms. The stark beauty of its desolation has a high value to society if you ask me.

Fields of gold; another favourite of mine.

A couple nights at the Rouses and another couple in Christchurch catching up with old friends and I was ready to fly back to the North Island, but not before playing numerous games of ‘fetch’ with friends dogs; almost makes one want to settle down and get one of your own!

Back home now in the Manawatu where I have a few projects here and in Havelock which will take me a few months to complete before I hopefully head back overseas somewhere to work again. “Well, about time” I hear some of you say…

Borneo and Beaches

2009-11-28T18:38:00.006+13:00

Disembarked, Singaporean customs cleared, land legs firmly back on, it was time to look ahead to what would be the last two short chapters of this travel Odyssey. Firstly ten days in Borneo’s Northern Province of Sabah with long time friend (and former ‘cyclist’) Bevan Cameron, followed by three weeks lounging (after the previous nights partying) around the idyllic beaches of South Thailand with three more mates from University days.

Bevan was on annual leave and I was nearing the end of my ‘biannual leave’ so on account of the hot and sweaty conditions in Kota Kinabalu most of our time was spent doing a lot of not much.

Borneo’s highest point, Mt Kinabalu, is a popular two day hike and at 4095m it apparently affords pretty good views, although we would not find this out first hand.

With Bevan’s keen interest in ANZAC War history we would travel through the Borneo jungle to Sandakan on the Eastern side of Sabah to visit the former Prison Camp where the infamous Death marches begun back during WWII.

Besides this guy we didn’t see a lot of wildlife soo...

We signed up for a 3 day jungle/river tour, so did a lot of other people, which surprised me as I thought Sandakan was rather remote. I guess tourism is the world’s biggest industry for a reason.

Sean and his ‘Live Free’ philosophy photographing these guys...

Mr Orangutan.

Mr Proboscis Monkey.

Miss Hornbill.

Mrs Jungle Elephant.

The sunsets, in all fairness, were pretty spectacular too.

A thoroughly enjoyable time with the team despite the downpours, power cuts, ants, rats and inappropriate advances (no I was not involved).

Stalls at the bus stop selling mostly fruit and mostly the same fruit…

…typical Borneo fruit.

Basically our time in Borneo wasn’t that eventful so I guess in a way this gave me a full head of steam for the last leg of my trip – the islands of South Thailand. Pictured is the overnight ferry that would take us from the mainland to the island of Koh Phan-gan (KP) where the Full Moon Party (as seen on ‘Wild On’) is held every month. I gather the FMP would be similar to Spring Break festivities in the States.

Here I enjoy a drink with new friends from France, Israel and Australia that I met aboard the ferry. Now at first glance it may seem childish, however buckets are an institution on KP; a rite of passage if you will. Besides, I didn’t see any cups or glasses on the island so what alternative did we have?

Maybe Barrak should have been given the Nobel Party prize! Ha haa.

Extreme limbo!

If he’s not careful the end of his cigarette is going to catch fire.

In my opinion the partying in the days leading up to the actual night of the Full Moon Party are much better. Depending on the time of the year (it is said), there can be between 8-30,000 people at the FMP!

Random girl, probably an Israeli or Swede as 70% of the November crowd seem to be from there.

Fire skip rope: only attempt when drunk, in fact, that’s probably the only time you would consider it…

So I had spent four glorious days partying on Haad Rin beach before Wardo, Youngo and Smitho flew in just in time for the FMP. The boys made it clear they didn’t want to come to Thailand and “slum it”, Wardo in particular demanded access to a pool!

Beachside rooms with the pool an under-arm away.

Night of the Full Moon and our resort put on drinks and a cocktail party.

Sam’s alcohol tolerance was mercilessly exposed, what seemed like just minutes after his second drink…maybe he was telling the truth and had been studying hard for his recently completed Accounting exams.

Down at the beach, November’s FMP was raging.

Bucket stalls were primed and ready to be inundated.

The last known whereabouts of Wardo…

The night gets a bit hazy at some point and even though for me it wasn’t as good as the previous nights it was still one hell of an experience.

I think a festive atmosphere wouldn’t be too far off. By any chance have you guys seen Wardo?

Sadly he was found later that morning. It’s rumored he may have been seen with a girl just prior to the ‘accident’; it seems even God is conspiring against him.

Meanwhile, back at the beach the party continues. Why let a little thing like sunrise ruin a perfectly good party?

Call me a square, but getting your mates name tattooed on your abdomen (in Thai no less) when you’re drunk is not something I would want to wake up too. Madness.

Meanwhile, later that day in Paradise, it was back to exploring the island.

Alon, one of the A1 dudes from Israel I met – Hey how’s your mate Max getting on?

Man walks cow.

As good as it is, the others time was limited so we had to move on toward Koh Phi Phi another of Southern Thailand’s idyllic islands on the Andaman Coast side of the peninsular.

A strange day that involved nearly missing our ferry, ‘Thai time’ delays, barneys with the locals, losing bags off the roof on the highway, being threaten by a pysco with a golf club, a few beers with a few classic Aussie blokes…

… and it just got stranger.

Amazingly, Sammy’s only play of the entire trip was caught on camera. Needless to say it was unsuccessful.

A lazy day sandwiched between a couple nights in Ao Nang on the East coast and we were off again, by ferry, to the island of Koh Phi Phi Don. You got to love the lack of Health and Safety regulations; you’d never get away with this in New Zealand.

Koh PP is a kind of Backpacker beach paradise: Sun, turquoise water, white sand beaches, it’s relatively cheap…

and then there’s the…ah…boats.

Koh Phi Phi has a dark recent past though, of which there is still some evidence lying around. On boxing day 2004, some 2,000 people were killed by the murderous Tsunami that washed across the isthmus.

Life’s a beach, then you return home.

But it wasn’t all drinking and beach volleyball; we did other stuff too! Like hiring a longtail boat for the day…

…to explore Koh PP’s stunning limestone cliffs and the nearby island.

Here we leave ‘the beach’ on which the movie ‘The Beach’ was based; the epicenter of paradise for beach goers.

Snorkeling! This was actually my first time, as far as I can remember, and wow it was something else. Tropical fish are cool, and so placid! It’s a cliché, but it really is another world down there; I look forward to returning. Rene, recognize those boardies? Snug fit.

That’s quite enough Travis - do not pass go, do not collect $100, return to home. So, a few days after the boys had left Thailand to return to their jobs in Japan and New Zealand, I too boarded a flight bound for Auckland.

After a few great days catching up with old workmates and friends (along with getting used to the cold – what’s going on NZ it’s meant to be summer!) I had one last train journey to undertake before I would call ‘time’ on my journey. I got lucky with the weather too as it hasn’t exactly ‘set the world on fire’ since my return.

The Overlander runs a daily service between Auckland and Wellington (outside of the winter months). I had always been keen to make the journey and now I had the perfect opportunity.

New Zealand isn’t known for its train network so I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the carriages. A great train journey that really should be undertaken at least once as it passes through some striking farmland, natural landscapes (such as the central volcanic plateau and Rangitikei river valley)…

… native bush and over half a dozen viaducts; as seen above from the rear viewing area.

So as the 597^th, and final, day of my trip drew to a close as the train speeds towards Palmerston North, I’m now left to reflect on the past 20 months. With the memories, near on twelve thousand photos, hours of movie, four journals, thirty five blogs and dozens of new friends that should be easy. I can’t help but think though, that I’m going to wake in my bed at home soon (where it’ll feel as if no time has passed), stare at the ceiling and wonder - did any of it actually happen or was it all a dream?

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ‘09, travel.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, ‘to travel’ would be it. The long term benefits of travel have been proved by scientist, where as the rest of my advice has no basis, or reliable, than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice from now…

For me I feel travel is an incredible privilege. To have the ability to venture to far-away lands, of our choice, and interact with foreign cultures, usually being welcomed with the sincerest warmth, is truly something that should not be taken for granted; as is so easy done these days. In an increasingly global community, with its many challenges (not to mention potential future conflicts over resources in an increasingly abused and over populated world), travel I believe is one of the best methods of dispelling the cross cultural myths, educating the ignorant and developing lifelong friendships which is surely a near perfect way of developing understanding and eliminating prejudice.

After it’s all said and done, after the final curtain has fallen, at the end of the day (insert more closing clichés), the world is just full of good people, is stunningly beautiful and a surprisingly safe place to travel. Don’t get sucked into the dramatizations you see on CNN, BBC and especially FOX! With that in mind, don’t be afraid to travel to those lesser frequented places; I reckon the experiences are richer as a result.

Goodnight everyone, stay in touch.

All aboard M/V Hanjin Brussels

2009-10-17T05:36:00.023+13:00

Ahoy me maties. Ever since I became interested in ships and shipping at my last job, I have wanted to spend some time at sea aboard a merchant vessel. Dave my English mate told me about how he had done something similar a few years ago, which got me interested in fitting such a thing into my little travel adventure. I decided if I was going to do it, to help justify the considerable expense it would have to double as part of my transport back towards New Zealand and would have to pass through the Suez Canal in Egypt; something I had always wanted to do. Through an online agency I found such a vessel scheduled to do just those things at the right time, so after a bunch of emails and a small pile of paper work I was paid and booked to go. Dad, getting wiff of my plans, thought he’d like to tag along.

Introducing our vessel: Hanjin Brussels, Stats Man let them have it!

Built May 2000 in Korea
Length of 278.80m, width 40.30m
Deadweight 68,790.90 tonnes
Engine max power (all hail) = 74,700 horse power
Economic speed of 21knots at 82 rpm, max of 26 knots (approx 48km/hr)
Container max of 5,618 TEU
German Flag, owned by NSB, Chartered by Hanjin Shipping
Worth about $80million US?
23 crew + 2 passengers

Above you can see the route from Barcelona to Singapore via the Suez Canal which also included port calls in Valencia and Port Ka Lang in Malaysia. We were aboard for 19 days, steaming for about 15 of them covering 7,013 nautical miles (approx 13,000km).

She’s a big container vessel, bigger than most, but some are much bigger. I’m told the biggest in the world are 400m long and can carry over two and half times as many containers, truly monsters of world commerce.

All aboard for what should be a unique experience and a highlight of the trip. Dad and I would be the only passengers aboard for this voyage, however the vessel can take up to 7 in addition to the crew.

Once aboard we briefly met with the Captain and were then shown to our rooms and around the vessel by the Steward/Messman. The Superstructure where the accommodation, Bridge etc is located has 10 levels thankfully serviced by lift.

Home for the next 3 weeks complete with ensuit, Hifi system, TV and forward facing windows; much nicer than I was expecting – rock on. Dad’s room was twice the size.

The laundry and as Palin said during his Round the World in 80days show "What a stupid washing machine: for clean clothes only”.

The Gym.

The pool which was filled with Sea water once we got to the warmer waters of the Red Sea. I never used the Sauna.

The Galley. Here our Chief Cook Sammy works on another of his delicious meals. I probably wasn't doing myself any favours, but I was helpless whenever asked if I wanted seconds – just too good to refuse.

We dined in the Officers mess and felt like kings at meal time. Here Jhan who we came good friends with serves up lasagna.

… as I said, too good to refuse.

Once we were settled in, cameras in hand, we made our way to the Monkey Deck located at the top of the ship above the Bridge to watch the enormous gantry cranes load us up.

This continued into the wee hours.

Next day we sailed down to Valencia and after a short time at anchor we came in to berth where due to rain and Spanish mentality we would stay for 3 days, a stop that may have only taken 12 hours in Singapore or China.

The gantries (and their loading), reminded me of the machines from “War of the World’s”.

At no point was there a shortage of questions for the crew. Here deckhand Arciel points out something as the 2nd Officer watches on.

When in port we’re free to go ashore, so once we were alongside we did just that. We checked out the America’s Cup village, downtown and some of the newer developments and architecture as shown above.

Already feeling a sense of loyalty towards Hanjin Shipping, I wasn’t above vandalizing the opposition’s property.

While in port Dad helped put together some of the new exercise equipment for the gym while I just played around.

Thanks to the Valencia port call, I now had a forward view consisting of not just containers.

Now we were at sea proper heading across the Mediterranean we had time to conduct our inspections.

The marine environment is hell on unprotected steel like the anchor chain.

Stern mooring rope.

“Take us to your leader”.

I just liked the paint job on this bracket that holds a lifebuoy.

Aft view of 60,000 odd horse power at work.

We would participate in a couple safety drills.

The Teletubbies inspired immersion suit.

As we closed in on the Suez Canal we started to see a few of Egypt’s Oil and Gas platforms located near to the coast.

After 3 days crossing the length of the Med we joined the line for the Suez passage.

My ‘sinister looking’ father as we wait on the Navigation Bridge wing for the Suez show to begin.

We were one of 12 vessels in the 0100 convoy, so it would all begin under the light of a brilliant full moon. Here we approach the only bridge that passes over the 161km long Canal.

A spectacular sunrise over Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula as we make our way south through the fog.

40 odd meters up the Bridge wings afford fantastic views of the surroundings.

A fishing vessel follows us along as we pass Bailey bridge sections left after the wars with Israel over the years.

In the middle of the Suez Canal is a salt water lake where convoys from the south and North pass, all the while dodging local fishing craft.

It takes about 15 hours in all to navigate the length of the canal.

For a vessel of our size it costs about $200,000 USD to pass through the Suez Canal, not a bad money spinner for Egypt.

From the Bridge, as we headed down the Red Sea, you can see the flares from the nearby Egyptian gas platforms.

Below the superstructure lie the Engine room, workshop and the majority of the other pumps and systems that run the vessel. Here the German Chief Engineer shows us the control room…

…a few of the tools…

…the oil filters…

…the enormous room that houses the 4 story 10 Cylinder Engine which at full speed burns approx 200 tonnes of heavy fuel oil per day (that's 200,000 Liters per day!).

Here Dad stands next to a spare piston head and behind him are 3 replacement bore liners. Each cylinder has a diameter of 980mm.

All this power just to turn this one shaft (in itself weighing 65 tonnes and is over 100m long) upto 120 times per minute depending on the speed required.

This picture is from a previous dry docking, but it shows the propeller and rudder compared to the size of you or me. In the realm of monster ships the numbers are always impressive; the propeller has a diameter of 8.30m and weighs 76 tonnes.

Ultimately this is the goal of all the efforts and hardware of the engine room: forward motion
A daily ritual for us was to check the charts for our position and the surroundings. Ronaldo, the 3r d officer who’s responsible for navigation, shows us what we want to know.

At the beginning of the week (in Dad’s excitement over the freedom we had aboard and what we were learning) made the comment that “by the end of the week we’ll be running this thing” – I think it actually took 8 days.

As we approached the Gulf of Aden (A.K.A. Pirate alley) we stepped up security and increased our speed in an effort to make it more difficult for any potential hijackers. Arciel, one of the Pilipino deck crew, watches out for any ‘suspicious’ craft.

One of the half dozen military vessels that we saw on patrol, deployed by the EU and China to deter and intercept pirates. However the situation is a bit of joke as the destroyers aren’t allowed to fire upon or sink pirate vessels. They act more like a community watch group. This has lead recently to one ludicrous situation where a destroyer itself was attempted to be hijacked by pirates (it seems they have a sense of humour as surely they can’t be that dumb) and all the destroyer did was confiscate their weapons and let them go.

This sort of situation is the kind of thing that makes ones ‘Grind my Gears’ list.

Our radar shows a convoy of slower bulk vessels with low sides travelling in the opposite direction escorted by 3 military vessels. The size and speed of the Hanjin Brussels makes it an unlikely target for pirates hence we can travel without an armed escort.

Once we were out in the Arabian Sea the Captain was free to talk more.

I spent a lot of time hanging out on the bow with nothing but Open Ocean ahead. It was also a great spot to watch one of the real surprises of the trip: Flying Fish.

I recall our Polish Captain’s anecdote – “A seaman when home to his wife after his 4 month stint at sea and she asked how did it go? Well, at times the waves were so high that water would go down our flue, one time it was so hot the anchor melted off and other times flying fish would glide along next to us." The wife said, "I believe you that the water went down the flue and its possible the anchor melted off but you’re not going to have me believe that fish can fly!”

They are just the strangest thing, gliding along at 40 odd kph, often using their tail fin for propulsion. A crazy sight indeed, but I guess some birds can swim so why not?

I may have had time to do such things, but the endless task of maintenance and rust removal continued whenever free from other duties.

Jay one of the cadets.

Good to see James has his eyes on the job.

The family of recently restored fluid inlet valves.

Throughout the voyage the weather remain fine and clear for the most part which disappointed me in a way. I really wanted to experience some violent rolling and pitching, ohh well, next time.

Closer to SE Asia the nightly thunder storms put on a few shows for us.

As we closed in on the Malacca Strait we travelled along a bit of a highway where we pass one of those ‘monster’ container ships. The 398m long Elley Maersk goes head to head with a 180m long bulker. This vessel is one of 8 in its class which are the largest in the world. It’s engine is also the largest at 109,000bhp.

As the sun sets on our time aboard the Hanjin Brussels, I’m sad to leave new friends and this lifestyle behind. Although this life isn't my cup of tea; spending 4-7 months at sea and the culture on the ship is very formal and between the officers it looks a little frosty. Maybe this is a result of the rotation policy of personal on the vessel or is needed to keep a clear distinction of command. Passengers thankfully can circumvent this culture seeing we're outside the command structure, although i don't know what the Masters name is, he must be always addressed as Captain.

The Officers and Crew were great although I’m guessing the experience is dependent on the effort you put in E.g. on the second night we were already having beers and belting out Karaoke songs with the Pilipino crew, Dad especially got into it, making a bit of a name for himself – the white Barry White. I gather that most passengers just keep to themselves while on board.

You may think that you’d be incredibly bored spending nearly 3 week at sea on a merchant vessel with no casinos or organized entertainment, but it was quite the opposite for us. I ran out of time to do all the things I wanted to (I blame this mainly on the fact I found 50 DVD’s of National Geographic documentaries in the ships library) as there seemed to be no end of distractions aboard.

As it turned out it was a real bonus to have my old man along; table tennis just isn’t the same by yourself. So yeah good stuff, so pleased I did it and if anyone else is interested contact the Cruise People online and they can offer you options that go all over the world in all directions and if you do Bon Voyage.

Eurotrip

2009-09-25T02:17:00.014+12:00

For me, the trip from Entebbe, in Uganda, to London was an adventure in itself involving 5 flights (and the same number of in-flight meals), 6 countries, 30 minutes of sleep and all over a 17 hour period; it’s just how my flights worked out. I stayed with my sister for the 6 days I was in town, enjoying the comforts and sights of the ‘real world’.

As with any visitor to London I spent plenty of time transiting on the world famous Tube, visiting friends, showing my Dad around for the day he was passing through and taking care of admin related chores like blog updates!

We threw in a few hazy nights out into the mix.

The real highlight, besides spending time with my sis and old man that I hadn’t seen in 2 years, was visiting a ‘church’ of that much followed ‘religion’ of Football.

To be more specific, an English Premier League match between Everton and Fulham held at Cravern Cottage (Fulham’s home ground).

An even, free flowing match which Fulham had to come from behind to win 2-1. Cheers Craig and Courtz for hooking me up and joining me for this one, A-grade entertainment and company.

The main reason I was passing through London for the 3rd time on this trip was to meet up with my English buddy Dave (seen here with his wheels we’d travel in and who also featured in blog 11), who had taken a couple weeks break from his hectic job to join me for a drive down to Barcelona taking in Belgium, France and Andorra enroute. Class.

We were joined at the last minute by Dave’s mate Steve who proved to be the exception to the rule of ‘three’s a crowd’ as he was a great addition. The first stop after the 3 of us and the car passed through the Chanal between England and France was Brugge.

We’d spend the day and night here. A beautiful place, but a little too romantic to be spent with two blokes, so we moved on rather quickly south towards central France…

… to Oardour-sur-Gland , a historical place I had wanted to visit if I was ever in the region. These ruins are the remains of a village, which have been left undisturbed since the horrific massacre committed here by the occupying German forces during WWII in retaliation to the kidnapping by local resistant forces of a German Officer (actually committed by nearby villages, but they the Germans attacked the wrong village).

On June the 10t h 1944, the residents of this village were rounded up, the men taken to barns and the women and children (including babies) into the church, where they were then murdered. 643 people died here that day, only 1 women and 5 men survived the bloodletting.

It was decided that the village should be left as a Martyrs Memorial for the residents, victims of the brutality of the Nazis.

Next:a modern memorial to Engineering and Architecture.

The stunning Milau Viaduct.

It’s more than just an impressive viaduct, it happens to hold the record for the world’s highest road bridge and one of the concrete pylons behind us is actually taller than the Eiffel Tower, Auckland’s Sky Tower and only a matter of meters shorter than the Empire State Building. As an engineer I know (all hail), would surely say: “Awesome”.

After an afternoon on the beach of France’s South coast we made our way through to Toulouse where the next day we had a date at Airbus for a tour of their A380 manufacturing plant, now the largest commercial airliner in the world.

While in Toulouse we were lucky enough to stay with brothers Felix and Luke, French workmates of Dave's for the weekend. A night out bowling with their friends, followed by a great afternoon of go-karting; I had forgotten how much fun that was! Cheers boys, good luck with the Viper endeavor.

We passed through the Pyrenees mountain principality of Andorra, buying the cheapest Duty free booze I have ever seen ($12 NZD for 1L JimB) before we finally arrived into Barcelona. A day or two later the boys made the long drive back across France to England after a solid 10 days together.

Thanks a million Dave for all your selfless efforts, hopefully the ‘holiday’ didn’t turn out to be more hectic than work! All the best at work and with Lisa. Steve, good to see you again, let me know when you make that move back to Aus.

Anyone whose been to Barca will know that La Rambla street is tourist central with all sorts out and about. Dad rejoined me here after his foray to Norway and Germany to visit friends, a couple days later we’d leave Spain together for the next leg of the journey.

Architecture is a big part of central Barca and it doesn’t get any bigger, or stranger, than Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia.

Barca central city has a matrix street layout of mainly apartment buildings (easy to get lost in on a late nights walk home), but unlike today’s monstrosities these are aesthetically pleasing.

Beautiful even.

The stuff kids nightmares are made of...

...the stuff dreams are made of (I just love hostels)

Ultimately the point of coming to Barcelona was to hitch a ride aboard the container vessel M/V Hanjin Brussels. Dad hearing of my plans some months ago got on the bandwagon, hence our rendezvous here.

At 1450 we hailed a taxi bound for the Peurto del Barcelona (pictured above) to embark, Singapore here we come!

'The Pearl of Africa'

2009-09-08T22:13:00.002+12:00

You’ll have to forgive me on this blog effort as: A. I went to Uganda to see ‘African stuff’ and have a good time with the boys, not to learn about Uganda as such, B. It’s Saturday afternoon and I have to get this finished so I can get out and enjoy my second to last night in London before I head to France on Monday morning.

Africa, birth place of mankind (along with many other animal species) and for the last nine months it’s (Uganda to be specific) been home for my former University flatmate, and goooood friend, Kevin; better known as K (his American Indian name is ‘one with much rage’).

Some six months ago K invited his friends to join him for an ‘African Safari’ type holiday citing that through his contacts and “hook-ups” he’d established, we’d be able to avoid the expense of the normal African holiday while forfeiting none of the experience. Four of his friends answered this call to join forces, bringing with them their weapons of ‘mass exposure’; top of the range Nikon SLR’s. Gene brought his Canon… (cough cough).
Here we stand on the shore of the mighty Nile River at its source; the Northern edge of Lake Victoria some 6,450km from the the Nile's terminus on the Egyption Mediterranean coast.
The first activity we were to tackle was rafting the largest commercially rapids in the world at Jinja, not far from the Nile’s source, through an NZL owner rafting company; ADRIFT. EXTREME!

We passed through about a dozen large rapid sections (such as the one behind us) during the day, many of them grade 5, and yes we did spend a lot of time in the water on account of the flips (some more than others mind you). Good Nile.

A few African kids for lunch and we were back at full strength for more of what Uganda had in store.

Namely free BUNGEE thanks to one of K’s NZL hook-ups at ADRIFT. Gene quietly packs himself as he prepares for his leap of faith.

Joel party makes a textbook jump.

Max Power (Robot in disguise) to fall mode.

I take the more unconventional face first ‘sky dive’ approach.

“Do you want to get wet” Says Jack (the NZL who hooked us all up), “Yeah, just a little mate” I Say (pretty sure i touched the bottom).

K just realised he may have left the oven on when we left the house this morning.

Extremely gooood fun.

Ugandan Group photo number 2.

We would travel 2,200km around Uganda in Kevin’s work Landcruiser (cheers Ugandan Government) and anywhere we went village shops would be painted with advertising for the local mobile phone companies.

Village produce section.

We all agreed that Joel Party looks very ‘model like’ in this shot.

After the antics in Jinja we headed up country to where Kevin worked as the manager of a Chimp trekking Eco-lodge, affectionately known to us all as ‘Kevshood’. This is located in Murchison National Park, K cleverly took care of the pesky little issue of ‘entrance fees’ adding to the K induced savings scheme.

Not far from the Eco-lodge is the Murchison Falls; a 40m high, 3m wide thunderous torrent of water where the entire volume of the White Nile passes through.

We are convinced this is one set of rapids we would not survive a passage through. Good falls though.

Murchison NP is also well known for its game drives. The afternoon safari is easily one of the highlight of my travels, the wildlife, colours (sky, plants, red earth tracks in late afternoon sun etc) and being able to share it with such good mates was an amazing experience.

We saw lots of animals, such as African Buffalo…

Giraffe…

More Giraffe (side shot of a mate’s torso)…

Pumba…

The long faced Hartsbeest…

Wild Elephants…

Many bright birds (and a bushbuck in the background)…

The boys were having the time of their life as they held on for their lives…

We would camp in the Game Park near the waters of Lake Albert (one of the Rift Valley lakes) with sounds of Hippo’s and numerous other creatures all around us.

A few quiet Whiskeys and a sing-along around the camp fire that night was brought to an abrupt halt when the sound of breaking sticks made us all turn our torches towards the dark bushes some 20 meters behind us. We were shocked to see a Bull Elephant grazing there and it was at this point (and later too for K when he heard Lions) we thought we probably should have got that Ranger with the gun to come and keep the fire going while we slept. An uneasy night followed for a few of us.

Next morning (every one accounted for and all limbs intact), we were joined by other Game Drivers near some hunting Lions (not far from our camp spot).

It shouldn’t be the Lions or Bull Elephants we should worry about, Hippos kill more humans than any other animal in Africa. Hippos make funny noises and like to swim all day.

You haven’t been to Uganda and fished for the legendary Nile Perch if you haven’t fished for Nile Perch while in Uganda. You might also be able to see the white water from the bottom of the Murchison Falls in this picture.

I may have spent a few hours fishing for one, but true to form, all I caught was my lure.

Gene however (also known as Frank Datank), did one better.

Crikey look at this one, he’s huugge!

34kg’s of Nile Perch ladies and gentlemen. I could already smell him on the BBQ, only to be told he’d have to be re-released as per fishing regulations.

Strangest sight award goes to…(drum roll please)… ‘Dead upside down Hippo being eaten by Croc’s’.

From K’s work we went Chimp trekking. This is a Chimp eating Jackfruit.

Ugandan group shot (+Chimp) number 3. We got lucky the day we went trekking to find the Chimpanzees, agroup of about a dozen Chimps were really easy to find and afterwards K said “it was a near perfect Chimp experience”, he should know, he’s done it every other day for the last 9 months. Good Kevshood!

From Kevshood near the centre of Uganda, we made the long drive to the rolling hills and volcanoes of Southwest Uganda near the DRC and Rwandan border, stopping at the Equator along the way. At this point Gene left us to return to his pesky job (figures as I thought he was very quiet and I hardly saw the guy from now on).

Obligatory Forward Defense.

Following Barak’s lead of stressing the importance of R&D, science etc (plus an episode of the Simpsons), we conducted a little experiment on the equator regarding the corearlious effect. Sure enough only five meters either side of the Equator water drained down the hole in opposite directions, but directly on the equator is drained straight down: weird.

Jackfruit Mr. Obama?

This cow has really really big horns.

This is a weaver bird, it wove these nests.

Next stop Lake Bunyonyi. A good way to describe this place would be to take a green agricultural valley in the King Country, flood it, put some Nikau Palms around its edge and a few small resorts with some wooden canoes and you’re pretty close.

The Crested Crane, the national symbol of Uganda.

And the award for ‘Gayest photo of the trip’ goes too… (another drum roll please) … In fairness this photo nicely combines, represents, about 75% of our conversations topics during the trip: Gay jokes and Camera/Photography tech talk. Don’t ask me why…

Hollowed out wooden log cannoning is much more difficult than it sounds.

Bev, this is for you: what’s wrong with this picture? (Besides the mullet)

We swam……

... and practiced witchcraft.

The Southwest of Uganda is the apparently the ‘prettiest’ part of Uganda, with many of the 30 million inhabitants living off the land such as these pictured.

However we had ventured to this far corner of the country to climb one of the Virunga Volcanoes, in particular the 4,127m high Mt Muhabura.

It was steep in parts, but we blitzed the 1800m climb in about 4 hours.

Here we’re pictured on the summit by the Crater Lake with our guide and armed guard. Goood Mt Muhabura.

Pineapples for sale in Kabale.

A common seen, Matoki (the banana looking things) being transported around by bicycle.

The Lake Mburo NP was another chance to get back into Game Park mode (and camp near dangerous wild animals).

In the main the new animals we spotted were Impala…

Stripy horses…

Vultures…
Really spiky thorn bushes. That’s about it.

From Mburo we headed back to the capital Kampala, before heading down to Entebbe where a wild life reserve is, K’s head office and the international airport (where Edie Amin entertained a certain hijacked Israeli airliner years ago).
At the Reserve we mopped up on the few animals we hadn’t seen and others we saw from a distance, such as Ostrich.

These guys are probably the weirdest animal I saw in Uganda, I doubt aliens would have freaked me out more.

This is a big cat and I all I wanted to do was cuddle it, although I doubt that would have been a smart idea.

Shoebill stork, this guy stands about 1.2m tall.

Ahhh… this is the… ahh … brown mullet head duck?

More chimps doing cool things again.

Late on the 7th of September as the sun set on our African adventure, I boarded a plane bound for London, leaving 'stash and mullet' behind (may they rest in peace). Who knows when I’ll be back in this neck of the woods, but if this trip is the lasting memory I have of Africa then I’ll take that to the bank any day.

Boys, especially K, thanks a million for a once in a lifetime African adventure, hell of a trip guys, hell of a trip - he’s too many more.

If 'Jordan & Egypt' were a band, this'd be their Greatest Hits

2009-08-15T08:49:00.026+12:00

Right where were we? That’s right, on the way from Damascus, Syrian’s capital, to Jordan’s – Amman. Syrian’s have a ‘relaxed’ lifestyle, the Jordanian in our 3 hour shared taxi describes it as “disorganized”, he also had a particular disliking of the GCC (Oil rich Arabian Gulf countries) Arabs who holiday in these parts during the uncivilized heat of summer in their own country (they aren’t hard to spot as they’re driving around in Mercs’, Hummers or other grossly oversized American vehicles on account of the handouts their state gives them and their cheap fuel). I can expect a more ‘modern’ approach to life in Jordan he suggested, be that good or bad. It was interesting to listen to him though, talk about life in this ancient, and often, volatile region especially seeing he was Palestinian.
The path I took through Jordan and Egypt looked something like this.

Amman is not one of the ‘great cities of antiquity’ in the Middle East. Prior to the Palestinian exodus out of the West Bank and into Jordan in the years after the creation of Israel it was nothing much more than a small town. Now, the desert has been flooded with apartment buildings.

The main attraction in Amman is one of the ancient Roman amphitheaters that dot this stretch of the Fertile Crescent. Amman is mainly a good staging point for day trips to surrounding places of interest in Jordan.

There was a nice little museum showing, among other things, local Bedouin (semi nomadic desert people) attire.

Recovered articles and mosaics; I love the look in this guys eyes (like he’s just stepped on something sharp).

The needle in the hay stack.

And for my sweet tooth Kunafa; a dessert served directly from the hot pan comprising of a base of mozzarella-like goat cheese with a crumble topping covered in crushed pistachios all soaked in a sweet sweet sugar. Soo good, don’t miss it if you’re passing through.

One of those day trips was to the remains of the Roman city of Jerash, I was joined here by Yurika; a Japanese girl who had only just arrived from Bangkok that morning, yet she still had the steam to head out for a full day, what a trooper. I didn’t know it at the time but this would be the first day of 2 weeks travelling together.

Of course being summer in the Middle East it was another fine hot day.

Ahh Yurika, you’re in my shot.

Another amphitheater for entertaining the nobles, but as always, it’s that detail that impresses.

How they ever carve this sort of thing out of stone 1800 yrs ago I’ll never know.

Another of the must-do day trips from Amman is to that record setting (lowest point on Earth 410m below sea level) lake with a rather morbid name: the Dead Sea. On a still day, like we got, the views across to Israel are marvelous.

With no outflow, all dissolved salts that do drain into the lake from the surrounding deserts stay as the water evaporates, as a result, the lakes salinity is 6 times that of the Oceans. Most days during summer are well into the 30’s.

Wind-blown ‘sea spray’ dries along the shore leaving behind the incredible quantities of salt it bears.

Hmmm…gold’s down a fifth. All that salt increases your buoyancy significantly, so much so (as strange as it sounds) you often ‘lose your balance’ while in certain positions in the water as your center of gravity is so much higher. A strange, but must-have experience in my opinion, I’d come back to Jordan just to do it again.

Sun set over the Dead Sea and Israel.

On the way south to Petra, Jordan’s most popular attraction, Yurika and I stopped by Karnak to visit one of the more intact former Crusader Forts.

Archers slit.

Former stone built horse stable within the fort, doubly impressive as this is the first floor a replica stable is above on the second.

Yurika is on a 7 month trip to various countries around the world, she hails from Nigata on Japan’s west coast, an area known for quality Sake I’m told. (Lawson, don’t even bother asking!)

The Lonely Planet says it well:
“The spectacular rose-stone city of Petra was built in the 3 rd century BC by the Nabataens, who carved palaces, temples, tombs, storerooms and stables from the sandstone cliffs. From here they commanded the trade routes from Damascus to Arabia and great spice, silk and slave caravans passed through, paying taxes and protection money.”

The best preserved of these ‘rock hewn temples’ is the Treasury. Petra is an expensive site to visit, but not if the gateman lets you bribe him – finally corruption working for me!

Wide angle shot from inside, maybe as impressive as the outer façade is the sandstone colouring which has no doubt faded over the years, it must have looked even more stunning shortly after its creation.

“Sir you want donkey?”

“I really shouldn’t, they’d never let me on the plane with him”

Al-Deir (Monastery) the 40 odd meter high carving. There seemed to be about 100 tombs and temples in the various valleys and hill tops in varying states of disrepair.

There is no shortage of people selling tourist tat, including this very cleaver piece of art, images made of sand in a bottle.

Many of the carved facades looked like the ones in the background of this photo.

As I looked back over the days exploring I couldn’t help but feel a little ‘underwhelmed’ by what I had seen as much of the area is, understandably, sun bleached. As a result the cliff walls and facades aren’t as colourful as I was expecting. One big day was enough.

However, there were places where the sandstone made some crazy patterns with incredible colour which I found about as interesting as the human aspects of the valley.

Another crazy beautiful desert sunset.

The drive from Petra to Aqaba, at the Southern tip of Jordan on the Gulf of Aqaba, passes through some stunning desert landscape an area that features in the movie Lawrence of Arabia. From Aqaba we took the 3 hour ferry (that takes 7 hours) to Nuweiba in Egypt.

Yurika killed the time doing one of the things Japanese girls do best: Origami.

???

Nuweiba is a super relaxing place (far from the development which has engulfed many other seaside villages) consisting of roaming camels, small holiday camps and the ever present rubbish. Here you can see clear across the Aqaba Gulf to Saudi Arabia.

This shot’s taken from the beach and our hut is on the right.

We would need to cross the great desert that is the Sinai Peninsula to get to our next destination, Suez, just as Lawrence did some 90 years earlier (although our trip was completed significantly quicker and not by camel back).

The city of Suez lies adjacent to the southern entrance to the 140 yr old Suez Canal. In a strange way, it’s fascinating to just sit and watch these massive vessels slowly cruise by one after the other. Here a 330m Qatar owned LNG tanker glides past with its volatile and valuable cargo of Liquefied Natural Gas.

This is the only thing to do in Suez, but considering my particular interest in Shipping I was glad we came. The Hanjin vessel pictured is similar to the vessel my Father and I will be going on from Barcelona to Singapore in 6 weeks time and yes it’ll be transiting through Suez so I’ll be back here soon, but next time places will be reversed; I’ll be the one looking back at those paying bribes (baksheesh) to be able to take photos as I had too.

For those pub quiz buffs the canal is a 160km long link between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, cutting right across the western edge of the Sinai desert. It had been one of my trips ‘boxes to tick’ to see cargo ships sailing through the desert sands like this.

Alexandria, the city founded by the great Macedonian Army General himself; Alexander The Great. A first class city actually, a true coastal city (far longer than it is wide) with an attractive corniche and bright and lively population as they should be seeing they live in Egypt’s paradise.

Kawyei!

In all honestly I came here to see it and to be able to say I’d been here, but also to see the following…

…The new Alexandrina Bibliotheca; an attempt to duplicate the original ancient library which was considered the finest of its time. Of particular interest to me was the fact the guide book referred to it as “resembling the outside of the Death Star” because the outer stone wall is engraved with at least one symbol, hieroglyph or pictogram from every known language.

To honor such a monument to human linguistics/communication I wanted to add 4 more characters I didn’t spot!

Alexandria to Cairo is a 3 ½ hr train ride across the fertile Nile Delta, this country must be huge because for the entire trip I saw nothing but green agricultural land, however about 95% of Egypt is desert. Here Feluccas sail on the worlds longest river which run right through downtown Cairo a city of some 20 million.

Egyptian pita-style bread, a common base to meals here. The wholemeal flour they use to make this has made this my favourite bread I’ve had throughout the M.E. and Sub continent.

Like the other Arab nations Egyptians are Muslims and here too the women choose to cover their hair, but in Cairo they do it with more colour; you’ll see head scarves of every imaginable colour and design, often matching everything else including socks and shoes.

When in Rome…. here I wear my Galabea while trying sheesha with my Egyptian friend Tony (who has lived in Holland for 25 yrs); from the look on Tony’s face you’re going to find it hard to believe we are smoking nothing but dried apple which has a super smooth aromatic smell/taste on exhale. Tony mate was great hanging out with you for three or four days, you made my time in Cairo a memorable one!

A visit to Cairo isn’t complete without a visit to the world renowned Egyptian Museum which on the whole is full of statutes, sarcophaguses and all sorts or articles with ancient Hieroglyphs (similar to the one pictured).

Easily the star attraction of the museum is the contents of King Tutankhamun tomb that was discovered by accident in 1922. The collection included the pictured golden mask which sat over his mummified body which laid inside a gold sarcophagus, which laid inside a bigger gold plated wooden sarcophagus which laid inside yet a larger wooden sarcophagus which all laid inside a large granite one. It was truly mind boggling to look through some of the 5000 articles that were discovered there. All this for a short lived young Pharaoh (relatively unimportant when compared to others) that reigned for 9 years over 3,300yrs ago, makes you wonder what was contained in the tombs of the ‘more important Pharaohs’ before they were all grave robbed.

I don’t like to speak in absolutes and never like to use the world ‘never ‘(except when saying that) but the Ancient Pharonic Egyptian civilizations has to be the greatest that have ever graced the surface of this planet. To have lasted for over 3,000 yrs, in its various forms, with monuments of truly awesome proportion often housing statues, jewelry or carvings of astonishing craftsmanship that still exist surely qualifies it of this title.

A 35 minute bus ride from central Cairo, at the edge of the desert plateau, is those little things we’ve all heard about: The Great Pyramids of Giza.

Cliché camel riding photo in front of the pyramids anyone? For you good price.

Built as funeral tombs for the Pharaoh Khufu, Khafre (Khufu’s son) and Menkaure they are truly massive, the largest still has a height of 140m. Khufu’s pyramid, The Great Pyramid, completed around 2,650 BC was the tallest man-made structure for 3,800yrs. Even now I still shake my head in disbelief when I think about those numbers.

Arafat and the timeless technique; the latest addition to Ward’s Facebook album “Forward Defenses heard around the World”. Sammy make sure you upload this one.

Camel and rider are dwarfed by a stone block let alone the millions of others required to build the pyramids themselves. Urban development on the Nile delta over the years has extended right upto the edge of the desert plateau.

Amazingly for an extra fee you can actually enter the 4,600 yr old Great Pyramid.

Not wanting to pass up the opportunity to go inside one of the oldest structures on earth, not to mention the most famous, I brought the official ticket, although all the security and police around these tourist sites are so corrupt as long as you give them some baksheesh you don’t really need a ticket. Once inside you climb up the ascending passage way up to the Grand Gallery and eventually the King’s Chamber which was lined with perfectly smooth 100 ton slabs of Granite transported from the Aswan area (950km up the Nile River). The experience itself is not that interesting, but knowing where you are and what you’re inside certainly is.

The Pyramids weren’t the only outstanding piece of engineering on display at Giza.
Scenes from the train of the Nile, the strip of agricultural land and the desert as you travel south to Luxor and Aswan.

Here a variety of sheesha ‘bongs’ are available in the local Aswan bazaar.

I had come to Aswan basically to have a look around, see the Aswan Dam which dams the Nile and visit the granite quarries where the majority of the ancient Egyptians sourced their high quality granite for sarcophaguses, Obelisks, and tombs.

Luxor temple in the centre of Luxor city; site of the ancient city of Thebes, one of the two major capitals of Egypt during the Pharaohs time.

NOt far away is Karnark Temple, the largest and arguably one of the most impressive ancient Temples.

Every stone seem to be adorned with hieroglyphs, gods, rituals and images from daily life.

The Great Hypostyle Hall with its 134 stone pillars, all adorned with hieroglyphs and pictographs; a truly awesome site.

I’m running out of superlative for this blog, but amazingly, after 3000 yrs outside some areas of the original paint work is still visible on the underside of the roof stones. Something I did not expect to see that’s for sure.
There is something strangely alluring about the site of granite obelisks.

You got to love hieroglyphs: “flat palm, feather, man sitting down, circle with hole, duck”. Incidentally hieroglyphs written inside a vertical rectangle with rounded ends is a Pharaohs name I believe.

Another fine day and I was biking across the fertile river flats that flank the Nile to reach the Valley of the Kings and Valley of the Queens where hundreds of tombs are sited.

Firstly though, as the temperature rose into the mid 30’s, I would pass the 18m high Colossi of Memnon; back in their day no doubt they looked like the statues from The Lord of the Rings - The Twin Towers, but now not so much.

The arid environment of Egypt’s deserts is perfect for preserving her stone monuments and tombs.

Most others came by air conditioned coach as part of their package tours which makes up the majority of the tourist I saw in Egypt, most often Eastern European or Spanish.
High Five!

Only a select few tombs are open to the public, but once inside I was astonished to find that almost every inch of the walls were covered with the original paint and hieroglyphics, albeit with signs of degradation. Unbelievable really considering their age and the fact they have been open since antiquity and hence you would have thought they would have been vandalized. This particular tomb even still had the granite sarcophagus inside of it with the lid carved in the likeness of its inhabitant.

An overnight train ride from Luxor to Cairo and I was back where I would need to be for my day of administration and my onward flight. Sure Jordan and Egypt has some of the worse touts and an accepted culture of ‘tourist price’, but the quality of sights, sounds and tastes out weights that so these two countries still get a ‘thumbs up’ rating from me, especially if you’re into the ancient wonders stuff.

My imminent departure from Cairo also signals the end of my 6 ½ month odyssey overland from Mumbai. The African adventure really only begins now, but in the depths of the Ugandan wilderness with four GC’s.

Mmmm SE Turkey & Sizzling Syria

2009-07-30T08:40:00.000+12:00

With Iran now behind me, I had to weight up my options. I only had five weeks to get to Cairo to board my flight bound for Uganda, but before I got too excited about that I had to focus on the job at hand: my travel crusade through the Middle East.

Five weeks is not enough time to do Turkey alone justice, let alone Syria, Jordan and Egypt as well, so I decided early on I would have to give the majority of Turkey a miss this time around. Besides, after what I have seen of SE Turkey it seems like a great country to return for some cycle touring one day, also they give New Zealanders a free 3 month visa at the border so coming back is no bureaucratic hassle – good work Turkey!
This blog update covers my travels through SE Turkey and Syria.

There are several Iran/Turkey land borders, we (Pehr the Swede who has travelled with since Esfahan in Iran & I) choose to cross the northern most border as this took us close to Mt Ararat (site of Noah’s supposed landing), a mountain I had wanted to see if I was in the area. The snow capped Ararat and its small companion to the right reminded me a lot of the Tongariro National Park in NZ, although Ararat is nearly twice as high.

Not only had we stepped into a different political landscape, almost immediately the environment brightened; the steppes of SE Turkey I think are the best I have ever seen. The first place we stayed was the small Turkish town of Dogubayazit, even here near the border it was a world away from Iran. All of a sudden there were familiar western brands, a sense of openness and distinct European feel - I even saw women with uncovered hair!

In Dogubayazit we met up with Catherine, a Belgium girl who I had met in Iran who was also on a similar itinerary; on her way to Syria. So two became three and the next day we all went to Van, on the shore of Lake Van funny enough. Mid July is hay season in these parts, we passed through hours of fields all being tended to by hand by local farmers and their families. The photos I have just don’t do it justice, but It was really stunning countryside, however this comes from a former farm boy...
The visually pleasing Van from atop the former Castle; usual to see a city where the surrounding hills aren’t developed but are still prairielands.

Monument depicting Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk) the father of modern Turkey who rebuilt the nation after the fall of the Ottoman Empire at the end of WWI.

From what I could gather, Van’s main claim to fame is that it is home to a breed of white cat that has two different coloured eyes. Has anyone ever heard of this? I hadn’t, anyway I saw a couple of them and they look as creepy as it sounds strange (especially if they are walking along waving while wearing people clothes).

Next we rode a couple long distant buses eventually arriving in Gaziantep near the border crossing with Syria. We would pass though a town called Batman along the way (Yes Kevin, Bevan and Don - Batman). This picture is from the nut and spice market in Gaziantep, I never really worked out what they were, but they were photogenic! I think they might have been dried capsicum, egg plant, zucchini.

Turkey being well known for having the best Baklava in the world, and not wanting to disappoint Catherine, I accepted her sweet gift.

Kadayif on the left and Baklava in the middle: a lot of sweets in this part of the world contain, in some way, pistachios (the green colour comes from the pistachios).

Syria

Swede left us to continue his travel in Turkey while Catherine and I continued on into Syria (seeing NZ has no Syrian Embassy getting a visa at the border is relatively painless; except for the $60USD fee) to Aleppo where I would stay in the smallest room I have to date; swinging a cat would indeed be difficult in here.

Central Aleppo (like a lot of Middle Eastern towns/cities) is dominated by its citadel (a fort atop (often) a man made hill surrounded by a moat) which like many citadels in the region was built in the early 12th century AD shortly after the Crusaders (is some joke required here? Needless to say I’m not referring to the rugby team) rolled into ‘the holy lands’ on the back of the popes orders.

The advent of gunpowder was the beginning of the end for forts and their military supremacy.

Mosque and checkout the satellite dishes on the apartments in the distance.

In case you didn’t already know, I love Kebabs, Doners, Chicken Wraps, Shawarma’s call them what you will, but the Middle East is home to them all. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised that if the former USSR had taken over this region, that they would have called it Kebabistan; my Holy land. To boot they’re inexpensive so why not have two?

A Mosque and its unique minarets stand opposite a Christian Church; Syria seems to be religiously tolerant country.

The inner courtyard of a mosque in Old Town.

Catherine informed me that Aleppo was very famous for its Olive oil soap, surely it can’t be that popular because the old factory we visited that produces it only makes it three months a year.

Stacked and drying.

Packed and ready for shipment. In all fairness the place smelt amazing, so the soap must be pretty good.

More pastry sweets packed with pistachios! (yes, for those observant ones, this is the same day as the two Shawarmas).

From Aleppo we took the 3 ½ hr scenic train ride to the Syrian Mediterranean city of Lattakia. A 1st class seat cost 70 Syrian pounds, about $1.55 USD or approximately insane value. A strong contender for the “Best value” award. The coastal areas of Syria are pretty green, and the scenery reminded Catherine a lot of the South of France e.g. no shortage of Olive trees, Cedar trees (famous in nearby Lebanon) and cropland.

Lattakia was nothing special, the only thing of interest that happened was the little thing of seeing what must be one of the World’s Largest Doners! What a monster!

From what I gather Syria is a democracy, but the same guy and now his son gets re-elected every time with 99.9% of the vote which sounds a little odd. Either way, you’ll see their image at every turn and it seems Bashar Assad is doing a pretty decent job (He’s recently invited Barak for a visit) so let the good times roll.

Hama’s main, and some say only, tourist attraction is it’s old water wheels (norias) that ingeniously uses the streams current to raise water some 20 meters to small aqueducts for local irrigation. Before the recent advent of the electric pump they were doing this for at least the last 2,000yrs.

From Hama, a couple minivan rides away, is the Crac des Chevalier which is arguably the finest castle in the world. One of the many Crusader castles built back in the early 12th century; it has survived to the present day relatively intact.

Not a bad spot for a concert, although the likelihood is it’d be classical.

Rivalling the exterior look is the internal masonry work, especially the arches and domed roofs all made from hand worked stone and designed to support itself for some 900 years and counting. As the book says, “it’s one of Syria’s must-see sights”.

A large portion of Syria is barren desert and after a few hours’ drive into it, you’ll come across Syria’s most popular tourist site: the ruins of Palmyra, the magnificent ancient caravan town.

Qala’at ibn Maan – the fort/castle high above that overlooks the city ruins. Not even two days after Catherine and I parted ways I was lucky enough to meet Lewis (another Belgium) at the ‘hostel’ when I arrived in Palmyra.

Lewis, as it turns out, has an interest in archaeology and actually studied the Palmyra site at university as part of his Art degree. This was a bonus for me as the next day, despite the sapping heat, I would explore the entire site with him which has been partially excavated and sections restored by the French (we think) sometime before they left in the early 50’s.

WARNING: Photos of Roman-like ruins follow.
Some images of Palmyra which enjoyed its ‘hay day’ some 1,800 years ago.

It seems nature has a sense of humour. One of the few plants you’ll see out here.

The buildings in the background are multi-storey burial chambers; important people’s coffins were stacked inside.

After my visit to a nearby burial chamber I might have to amend my Will to include the following instructions “wishes to be buried in a stone sarcophagus bearing his image along the sides of the exterior”.

I am not sure of all the reasons for why Palmyra fell into decline, but one was earthquakes; here you see a toppled stone wall lying where it fell - begs the question 'what lies beneath'?

Almost every promenade column in Palmyra had this step part way up, which was where a statue once stood, most now lost to time, distant private collector or like a lot of former colonial lands treasures, the Louvre or British Museums.

As always with these types of places it’s the detail in the stone carving that impresses me.

You can still find blocks around the site bearing ancient Greek or Latin inscriptions.

This block, reminiscent of the Rosetta stone, bears an inscription in two languages. Man I wish it wasn’t super illegal to remove and export important archaeological pieces from national monuments because I’d love this one as souvenir.

After a couple of nights in the desert Oasis town of Palmyra I had to make tracks back towards Syria’s capital, Damascus.
Damascus is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on earth and on account of its physical location has been a transit point for many trading routes over the millennia. So I guess it’s no surprise that the Old Cities covered Souq is an attraction in itself.

Damascus also claims to be the centre of Islamic culture, so there is no shortage of mosques. The Umayyad mosque in the Old City is one of the oldest and largest, famous for its golden mosaics.

I visited on Friday, the holiest of days of the week for Muslims.

Over at the Persian style, Iranian built, Shiite mosque things were a little charmer as the groups of Iranian tourist arrived. I didn’t see a white tiled dome like this while in Iran so this came as a surprise to me. The Persian style mosques have a lot more ‘bling’ to them I’ve noticed. I wonder what the insides of the Gulf States mosques look like, I can only wonder.
One of the popular things to do in Damascus’ Old City is to have ice cream from this one particular shop, vanilla is the most popular choice, but I’m more of a strawberry guy. Of course, like most other sweets in these parts it comes topped with crushed pistachios.

And what an ice cream; I seriously considered staying another day just to have another crack at that strawberry!

Real Iran

2009-07-12T19:08:00.001+12:00

For over 2,500 yrs Persia has been home to various Empires, including some of history’s greatest, that was until January 1979 when the ‘Glorious Islamic Revolution’ overthrew the Shah installing religious clerics and Mullahs into power headed by the Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. At this point the clock was rolled back; Iran’s relations with the West soured and became increasingly isolated, people’s freedoms and women’s rights were reduced - the rest is history. How much longer this regime will last is anyone’s guess, but as you may have seen on the news recently, there is a growing frustration among the young at the government imposed restrictions on daily life.
Iran was part of my original ‘grand scheme’ for this trip, however after reading into visa requirements I lost faith and had basically decided not to bother. This was until I met some Iranian boatmen in Dubai port who renewed my interest and enthusiasm to go there. It would certainly be interesting and at least now I had friends to visit, but on account of ‘that’ visa process, it nearly didn’t happen for me. The map above shows my route across the Islamic Republic en-route to Turkey and the Middle East.

With Pakistan behind me and another police escort on the Iranian side of the border through Balochistan, my shorts still packed deep in my pack (Iran actually has legally enforced dress code) I was aboard the first of many luxury Iranian public buses crossing between Iran’s great desert plains. In the end I was surprised to discover that the great majority of Iran was either dry mountainous deserts or great desert plains (except for the subtropical Caspian Sea coast), although this shouldn’t have been that great a surprised considering Iran’s proximity to desert nations such as Iraq, U.A.E. and Saudi Arabia.

My first stop was Yazd in central Iran, famous for its Old City centre, constructed from mud brick it’s one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. Iran’s cities seem to be all located in low valleys surrounded by desert.

Work or Play? Mud brick, and the mud/straw mortar, is still used to construct and repair the buildings.

Yazd’s badgirs (wind towers); ancient air conditioners.

As soon as I laid my eyes on this building I knew for sure that I had left the sub-continent and had arrived in the Middle East.

The hostel was located right alongside the Amir Chakhmaq Complex (a memorial to a dead religious figure); the view from its roof would be hard to beat. The majority of the population are Persian (not Arabs) and speaks nearly exclusively Farsi (not Arabic and very little English), early on I thought a trip to Iran may involve a lot of lonely site seeing unless you make an effort to contact English speaking locals.
Magnificent blue tiling work adorning a mosque, this is synonymous with Iranian/Persia architecture.

Now in Shiraz it was time to learn a little more about those past Empires, this central city fort dates back a few hundred years to the Zand dynasty.

Gardens inside the Royal Fort, complete with fountain. Surprisingly there is no real lack of water in Iran on account of its mountain’s winter rains and snows.

It looked better in reality, but still here’s an example of Persian architecture a few hundred years ago.

Seeing Iran operates on the Islamic calendar any trip there currently takes you back to 1488. Here former Persian Zand Emperor entertains guests.

The modern day ‘Emperors’ of Iran, former Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khomeini on the Right and the current one, Ayatollah Khamenei on the left.

Being an Islamic Republic, the state is headed by an Ayatollah which is the highest level of Muslim Cleric. Shiraz is the ‘base camp’ for excursions to Persepolis, a royal city palace complex dating back to 515BC when the Achaemenid Empire ruled Persia, until Alexander the Great, in his relentless drive East, over ran them, sacking the city and destroying it in the process.

I would be joined by a Belgium couple for the day.

I’ll probably get ‘tired’ of seeing ancient stone ruins as I pass through the Middle East over the next few months, but seeing this was my first it was actually a rather big thrill.

Coming from New Zealand with such a short human history its mind boggling to think all of this has been sitting in the Persian desert for 2,500yrs.

It’s not all broken columns lying around either; there are some impressive statues too.

Not to mention carvings.

Here the ancient cuneiform script is inscribed on the former palace walls, no doubt telling of the great deeds of the sitting emperor.

It may not be everyone’s ‘cup of tea’, like watching test cricket, but I find it strangely fascinating to steer at these reliefs and murals trying to understand how they still exist in such good condition after so long.

Any great Emperor needs an equally impressive cliff side tomb and mural reliefs. A really interesting days site seeing and a must if you’re ever in Iran; even if you’re sick of all those ruins in Arabia.

Next I headed for the Persian Gulf port town of Genavah where the Dhowman I met in Dubai live. They spend a month in each port, so I was lucky that they were in Genavah when I was passing through. At this time of year the Gulf is hideously humid and hot.

Here Morteza and Mr Yadola (who I stayed with while in Genavah) stand portside as boats similar to theirs have their hulls cleaned and maintained.

Hussein who I also met in Dubai complained that his picture didn’t appear on my Dubai blog, I promised that wouldn’t happen this time! I wish you and your young family all the best mate and good luck for the new business.

The Iranian men are a social bunch, each evening the male family members gather and to play cards, drink chai and smoke the Ghalean.

Here I hold up one of Mr Yadola’s sons. I can’t thank you guys enough for having me; I had a great time and sincerely hope to see you again in either the Persian Gulf or New Zealand!

Next I visited Esfahan; Iran’s most scenic city. The central city is awash with beautifully maintained parks.

Here a group of young women, clad in their black Chador, gather for lunch; “Penguins of the desert” as one local referred to them as.

Tree lined sidewalk along the ephemeral river that runs through the centre city connects the aesthetically pleasing pedestrian bridges that cross the river from teahouse to teahouse.

Esfahan’s Imam square built by Shah Abbas in the 17th century is the second largest in the world and is a popular place for the locals to gather every evening for picnics. With his Death Star and Imperial cruisers destroyed, Darth Moor attempts to hail a ride?

Images of the captivating tile work from the Mosques around the square.

The dome of the Imam Mosque; reputably one of the most beautiful mosques in the world.

Esfahan is also well known for its craftsman and the selection is endless. Here hand-painted copper plates are displayed to potential customers. The apprentice.

The Master with a few that took my fancy.

Along many of the park fences are translated verses from Islam’s Holy Koran. Whether to remind or inform I’m not quite sure.

A big part of Iranian life revolves around shopping at the small shops in the Bazaar (market) as there are no malls or western chains. I was told by one local that “Iran is a closed bazaar open only to China”, meaning most of the products available in Iran are Iranian made except for some Chinese products.

Mohammad, Kerron and Gene, fellow backpackers who I kicked around in Esfahan with, with no sense of shame beg for loose change.

Strangely, one day I came across the very guy who is the picture boy for the Lonely Planet’s #1 highlight of hospitality, he lived up to expectation too not hesitating to push samples of his shops delicious sweets in my direction.

The closed Bazaar includes the automotive industry; the Iranian made Paykan and its 1970’s technology is pretty common (giving the streets a former Soviet Union feel) although the Iranian made Peugeot 206 is increasingly common. Also note the Persian number system on the number plate, similar to the Arabic system.

Next I headed to Tehran, scene of many a bloody demonstration in recent weeks. The main thing I wanted to see here was the old US Embassy complex infamous for the hostage situation there that dragged on after the 1979 revolution.

Now days the southern wall has a dozen anti-American murals, I’m told this is the view of only the government and that the majority of regular people like Americans and Westerns. From my experience Iranians love foreigners; are curious and extremely hospitable towards them. Many Iranians are even getting sick of hearing their government’s anti-west rhetoric that only furthers the false stereotype about them.

Tehran is a little short on sights, knowing this, I contacted a local (through the Couchsurfing project), to get a different perspective on Iranian life. Here we all pose after an afternoon of biking.

Thanks again L etc, a memorable few days for sure. Here, after a day out and about, Sara and I sit down and enjoy Dizi and traditional soup-stew meal. Sara is wearing the government imposed Magney and Manto (even in the heat of summer!) as part of the Islamic dress code (you are arrested if you do not). Men on the other hand, providing they wear pants, can wear what they like.

When in Rome! Actually the enforcement of the hejab (religious dress) has relaxed somewhat over the years, now days in larger cities it’s not uncommon to see young women showing some hair, maybe even some ear!

My time in Tehran fell, fortunately, between periods of street demonstrations so I never saw anything unusual, however when I arrived at the Caspian Sea I did: tree stumps in the salty waters of the ‘world’s largest lake’. How could this be? It seemed the water level had risen and reached the trees that used to grow along the coast, but surely a ‘lake’ 40% larger than New Zealand couldn’t have risen by this much. I would learn that yes it had, during 1977 and 1994 it rose 3m.
A few locals join us (Swede a travel buddy I had paired up with for Northern Iran for 10 days) for a dip.

Swede and I had come north to the coastal town of Ramsar and met up again with Mehran a local I stayed with in Tehran. We all headed into the Elburz Mountains that separate the Caspian from the Iranian desert plateau, we planned to climb Mt Samamous; the highest coastal mountain in the region. This shot was from the back of the taxi as we waited to head up to the village.

Mehran and his brother buy naan from a village shop for breakfast before the climb of the 3,620m mountain.

The five of us in front of their village ‘batch’, moments before we left.

The initial part of the climb was through pasture lands and fog from the warm moist Caspian.
… and fields of wild flowers.

7 ½ hrs later we reached the summit where we slept in the stone hut, but not before tuna and naan around a warming fire under a full moon on a still evening.

In the morning a lone horseman turned up on the summit, Swede was quick to ask for a ride. The note we left on the wall, English and Persian, for any that followed.

Of all the countries I have visited Iran has the least amount of English, although several times a day people who know some English (mainly Uni students) will start a conversation with you.

The decent was somewhat clearer, but no easier than the ascent. If you have a sharp eye you might be able to see Mehran and Swede in the lower right corner approaching the semi nomadic Sheppard’s hut where we would be treated to lunch.

In the Sheppard’s hut we would have freshly made bread and yoghurt in addition to chai of course, simple but tasty after a few hours trekking.

Once back at Granma’s in Ramsar we certainly enjoyed another of her delicious meals, this time her best khoresht (meaty stew with vegs) and rice etc. Mehran, it was a great 5 days we all spent together and I meant it when I said I want to see you again mate. Thanks again for the memories.

There is almost no meal in Iran that doesn’t contain Naan (of which there are 4 main types).

Here Razol, a baker in Tabriz, shows off the Barbari variety.

Each morning, and evening, people call in on their local Walla for freshly made naan direct from the oven. Here an oven consisting of a bed of stones, heated by a gas fire, prepares my favour variety… Sangak. Naan (like petrol) is subsidised in Iran, hence why a piece of naan like the one above is only twenty US cents. Subsidies cost the Iranian government about 25% of their GDP, but it’s the price they pay to keep the masses happy which keeps them in power.

I am a little confused what to say about Iran, as the Government says one thing, the people I talked with say another and then there are the masses that must support the status quo (unless of course the government interferes with the election results; as many believe). Personably I believe Religion and State should be separate, religion should be a matter of choice, however in Iran there is no choice about it. I met plenty of non-religious people who pretend to be Muslim through fear of persecution. Everyone inherently wants the freedom to choose, and regimes that oppress invariably don’t last the test of time, something Gandi noted.

Pre-revolution Iran was a modern and liberal nation, however now days their economy suffers from sanctions and the society is very segregated (e.g. women must sit at the back of the bus and the men at the front). The young, are the ones who are suffering from the restrictions the most and as a result the educated ones are leaving (along with the millions of other intellects and well to do’s) in search of more freedom and opportunities; creating one of the worst brain drains on the planet. I feel for those friendly, curious and hospitable people I have met who stay, or feel they must leave, because they aren’t happy with the forced Hejab, low salaries, suppression and lack of real freedom. All of this in the name of Islam, it just doesn’t sound right to me.

This is what Iranian money looks like. With inflation between 13-25% (depending who you believe) over the past few years the Iranian Rial has devalued greatly, meaning they need to print higher and higher denominations. The highest is a 1,000,000 Rial note ($100USD). However, confusingly everybody talks in terms of Tomans; the Rial value divided by ten. So if they ask for 5,000, you don’t hand them a 5,000 Rial note but a 50,000 Rial note; don’t ask me why.

I spent a total of 2.87 million Rials during my 3 ½ weeks in Iran: about $450 NZD, so Iran is not an expensive place by any means. Below are some examples of everyday expenses in USD:
· Dorm bed in clean hostel - $5 to 6.
· 8hr luxury A/c bus trip with drink and snacks - $5
· City bus - $0.05
· Large burger - $1
· 1.5L Coke - $0.80
· Ice cream cone - $0.30
· Kg of dates - $1.20
· Petrol per L (first 3L) - $0.10, (more than 3L) - $0.40 (basically free)
· Naan bread – between $0.025 and $0.25 (even more so free)
· Alcohol – not available as it’s illegal. (however plenty still drink in the privacy of their home)

Goodnight everybody, join me next time for a dash across SE Turkey, Syria and Jordan.

A pinch of Pakistan, a dash of anxiety

2009-06-20T05:19:00.000+12:00

Pakistan; does the word conjure up thoughts of military coups, political assignations, Islamic extremists, suicide bombers, war against the Taliban, imminent war with nuclear neighbor India, hid out of the bogie man and his legion of evil monkeys? If it does, you can’t be blamed, that’s all that makes the news. These things have shaped peoples over whelming view of Pakistan; tourism has suffered greatly since 9/11, but especially since the offensive in SWAT began.
As a result Pakistan has become a travel destination for the intrepid and those who “are you out of your mind?” as my father puts it. Of course the up side is that you get to travel in a country devoid of groups and other travelers which makes it all the more unique. Believe me though, if you cast aside the stereotypes and out of proportion fears, there is so much more to this place than the media clichés.

On account of my anxiety about being in Pakistan I had originally planned to dash across the country from India to Iran in about a week.
I crossed the border by foot moments before it closed, but three hours before the closing ceremony began. I was soon invited to sit and talk with the Army Rangers who are “performers” in the ceremony. It was rather surreal, I had been in “big bad Pakistan” 5 minutes, now i was chatting with these guys, automatic weapons and all, on a day that a bomb had killed 30 odd in Lahore not far from where I’d be staying.
This old guy couldn’t have taken the whole thing more seriously; the epitome of patriotism.
Created in 1947 from the bloody partition of India, Pakistan became a state for Muslims lead by the much revered (in most parts) Mohammed Ali Jinnah.
Of course, the objective is to out march, out salute and out shout each other. And the crowd goes wild.
From the border I made my way into Lahore on the ricketiest bus I have ever been on to the railway station where I met a local guy named Tayyab. Over chai we discussed my Pakistan plan and he told me that Pakistan really wasn’t as “unsafe” as we westerners are lead to believe and that I would be missing the best of this country if I didn’t venture north to the mountains. Tayyab invited me to stay with him and his family for a few days, which is a great way to really get to know a country and its people.
A Pakistani home cooked meal. Meat! - Ohh, how I’ve missed you. Lahore is a pretty modern city, many of the men in the inner city wear western clothes, but by far the most common attire for males in Pakistan is the Salwar Kamiz. They wear it in keeping with Islamic dress and modesty. As expected though, the inner cities are noticeably more liberal than the outer or rural areas.
Urdu the ‘national language’ that only 10% speak as their first language; such is the diversity of Pakistan as there are dozens of languages spoken throughout the country. Urdu sounds like Indian Hindi, but is written with a modified Persian-Arabic script.
Lahore being part of the Mugal Empire has many buildings of that period.
Mosque in the Old City area of Lahore.
Based on Tayyab’s advice I changed my plans and would venture North into the mountains along the Karakoram Highway; an area I thought was a real ‘no go’ on account of the war against the Taliban in SWAT. It didn’t take much to convince me though, as the Karakoram Range has the densest concentration of high mountains on the planet (topped by K2 (8,611m) second only to Everest) and the longest glaciers outside of the polar regions.
After a 24 hr bus ride through the mountains my first stop was Karimabad. The ingenious people of these high mountain desert areas have created a network of water canals along the mountain sides to channel glacier runoff for irrigation. This creates a real desert oasis look and feel about it.
Life up here is simple, revolving around the basic needs of life and family, although nearly all I saw in Pakistan had a mobile. An area of the world well known for its fruit trees: Apricots, cherries etc.
The former Royal Palace (Balita Fort) overlooks Karimabad; the modern day capital of Hunza region.
One of my day treks looped back along a water channel carved high into the cliff overlooking the valley – a sketchy walk as you can imagine. The snow covered Rakaposhi Peak (7788m) stands tall on the opposing side of the valley.
The people of Hunza are Ismaili Muslims, notably more liberal that the majority of their Sunni or Shiite counterparts. Many of the people in these mountain regions look almost European (as the story goes they are descendants of some of Alexander the Greats troops that stayed after their campaign petered out).
From Karimabad I ventured further north to Pasu (you can see the white Pasu glacier in the background). In the 60’s and 70’s Pakistan and China caved this highway through some of the most remote and desolate mountain ranges on earth; including the highest paved road pass – the Khunjerab Pass (4730m). There is a sign claiming it’s the 8th wonder of the world, now I don’t know about that, but forging a 1000km road through this terrain certainly was an amazing feat. From Pasu there are a couple good day treks, one involving two long swing bridges across the Hunza River. They wouldn’t look out of place on an Indiana Jones movie. There were more sketchy cliff trails before the 2nd swing bridge crossing.
Spring wildflowers
A days trekking from Pasu gave a great vantage point of Baltura Glacier; at 56km it’s one of the longest glaciers in the Karakoram region. Its surface is grey on account of the stone debris.
View from Pasu of the geologically young Karakorams.
Pasu Cones, simply spectacular.

At one point along the KKH you can see the three biggest mountain ranges in the world in one swoop: The Himalaya, Karakoram and Hindukush. The collision of the Indian and Asian tectonic plates forms these mountain ranges.
Next, i wanted to visit a place called Fairy Meadows; a day’s trek from the Nanga Parbat Base Camp. I was fortunate to be invited to join a group of locals from Islamabad and Lahore (as they were also going there). To get up there though required a precarious Jeep ride.
However, halfway up slides blocked the way; we would have to walk the rest, such is life in the mountains.
Further up beyond the Jeep track the trail was a bit of a goat track – Hahahaha, hahahaha.
The Fairy Meadows lodge/campsite.
The local carpenter takes a break during the construction of a mosque. He will complete it all without the aid of power tools.
Birch and Conifers grow at higher altitudes on the Himalayan Range, but not lower down where it is too dry.

View of the Raikot Glacier and Nanga Parbat.
The icefalls of the North Face of Nanga Parbat that feed the glacier; this ice wall is over three vertical kilometers high. At 8126m it is the world’s 9th highest and was made known to me as it is the mountain that Brad Pitt in ‘Seven Years in Tibet’ attempted to climb in the opening scenes – “Nanga Parbat, ‘our mountain’, climbing it has become somewhat of a German obsession”. "The boys” - Ahmad, Nazeer, Shehid, Nazir and myself (Marcus, I know). Back in Gilgit we would all enjoy an amazing BBQ atop the roof of an old construction site overlooking the road; a simple setting, but an unforgettable experience.
Many travelers bike the length of the KKH, which is a great idea, but I’d give it a few years as the Chinese and Pakistani crews are making major upgrades on the road at the moment. Here the shaping of stones for a wall is being done using only hammers.
During my “18 hr bus ride” back to Islamabad that was delayed by 21 hrs enroute (yes it ended up being a total of 39hrs!) I had plenty of time to admire some of the truck decorations adorning EVERY truck here in the Subcontinent. From what I can gather the only reason is that it is cultural, pretty cool though.

Back in Islamabad (I doubt Bagdad has more security checkpoints) I would catch up again with Ahmad and Nazir and be treated to a day of site seeing, here I’m being caught in a picture in front of the Faisal Mosque; one of the world’s biggest. I can only really speak for the men I have met (as you don’t have a lot of opportunity to see, let alone interact with women), but I have found them nothing short of super friendly and hospitable as Muslims really respect/honor and look after their “guests”.

After the escapades up north I headed west on my original path to Taftan, crossing the Indus river where some of the first human civilizations sprung up. My travel companions for the 24hr train journey were a group of Religious teachers (Pathan people common of Afghanistan), returning to Quetta. Probably the most devout Muslims I met in Pakistan and again the communication barrier was frustrating.

Technically Muslim states are “dry countries” and I’m not sure whether it’s related but their male culture is distinctly less macho than ours in the West. It is funny, I have always thought we don’t really have much of a ‘culture’, but it’s in a place like this that you really see your own. For example the men greet their regular friends by exchanging a handshake, but it’s more of a soft grab, actually grab is too strong a word, it’s more like a soft touching of hands. Good friends greet each other with a slow embrace (which always lead me to hear “Man love moment”, play in my head), there’s an enviable tenderness about it all….(sniffle)….but I digress.

As you leave the Indus River behind, the terrain becomes increasingly desert like and mountainous as you approach Quetta.
Further west across Balochistan (the western desert state of Pakistan that actually stretches into Eastern Iran and Southern Afghanistan) by bus I would be accompanied by an armed guard on both sides of the Iranian border. Apparently there have been some foreigners that have been kidnapped in these parts in recent years, most recently a few weeks ago I hear. Funny enough though, everyone reassures you the region is safe and you don’t feel at risk; however Kalashnikov armed guard lends you to at least wonder…. In short, I’m told the people of Balochistan want to separate from Pakistan so the odd foreigner is kidnapped to highlight their cause - it’s nothing personal.
As I crossed into Iran I said goodbye to nearly 5 months in the subcontinent and hello again to the Middle East. I hear they closed the border indefinitely the next day - bullet dodged.

Thoughts on Pakistan? Well, unfortunately from what I can see the politics, corruption and a lack of unity of this diverse land will probably limit Pakistan’s success in the near future. Government really needs to get in a position where it is less corrupt, spends less on its military and more on books and schools before parts of this nation can develop and move forward in a more unified way. Many Baloch people won’t agree, but as the popular slogan says: “Long Live Pakistan”.

If you have made it this far, then I want to tell you what really Grinds My Gears:

Consulates, High Commissions and their visa issuing sections, they seem to be the embodiment of bureaucratic departments that only exist to justify themselves. They couldn’t care less about their service quality (a take it or leave it deal) because they are monopolies and hence they charge ludicrous fees. They never return calls, answer emails and the information on their websites never reflects reality or is out of date. It’s such a pity that the gate keepers to potentially great experiences can (at times) seem too difficult to bother with or are incredibly frustrating.

Most of you probably have your own tourist or work visa story, but for example mine is Iran. Iranian toursit visas are well known for being difficult to get and recently I have heard from 5 people who tried to get their visa, all had difficulties and no story was the same. Some denied, some receiving only a 7 day transit, others a 17 day visa? I feel fortunate that my 2 ½ month ‘run-around’ getting mine worked out in the end by some miracle.

To get my Pakistan visa was much easier, although I needed a letter from my embassy saying that my passport was an original and I was indeed a citizen of New Zealand. The NZ High Commission will only charge me mere $60NZ for the one A4 sized letter!! What were they smoking there on Sir Ed Ave when they came up with that number?! Outrageous, but what do you do – you either take it or leave it.

Then there is the “invitation letter” scam. So called letter from a friend or tour operator inviting you to the country you wish to visit, however all you need to do is buy one off the internet - end of story. Just a money making scam for someone. A guy Dave I spoke with, he works all over Central Asia and he left his passport in a taxi in Islamabad while visiting Pakistan. It had all his current work visas in it. Luckily the passport was turned into his embassy, great right? Go pick up the passport, no problem? Nope, don’t forget who you’re dealing with. They wouldn’t give it back because they need to ‘check it hadn’t been tampered with’ so he has to pay for a new passport and go around and reapply for his work visa’s again just because they wouldn’t give him the passport back – what nonsense.

Tourism is big business, providing vital foreign exchange for many, not to mention a priceless tool of dialoge amoungst civilisations; making the world that little bit smaller. In this day and age of technology and efficiency we should be striving to rid tourism of these bureaucratic bottlenecks.

Seriously: give the passport back, you’re not really doing any ‘background checks’ paper pusher, stop charging grossly exorbitant fees, try smiling and doing you best for once - basically just stop messing us around.

Crossing the t's and dotting the....lower case j's

2009-05-26T15:37:00.004+12:00

The past few weeks have basically been about tying up loose ends in India and organising myself for the next phase of the trip.

After the big ‘come down’ from our Everest experience (more literally than mentally), we left Kathmandu the day our Nepal visa expired, hoping we would avoid complications resulting from the frequent bus strikes (Nepal politics are in a constant state of flux at the moment). Well, in a way we did and didn’t, I’ll spare you details but the bus did finally arrive at the border only 11 hrs late. Later that day, back in India now, our train taking us back towards New Delhi was also only 12hrs late, resulting in yet another sleepless night, this time in a train station.

Nope, this isn’t the aftermath of another station shooting; our fellow passengers have merely taken to sleeping in the car park out front.

Marius and I were heading back towards New Delhi (as he flew out later that week) to a town called Ramnagar, located near the Corbett Tiger Reserve on the foothills of the Indian Himalaya.

On the 3rd day, (finally in Ramnagar after 2 solid days of sleepless and difficult travelling) we rested.

I had come to Ramnagar primarily to see the Tiger Camp Eco retreat that my sister would be volunteering at next year, and report back to her my findings.

The Indian Tiger has been under threat for decades (many ending up on the wall of Eco retreats), but have finally been making some headway, in no small part due to the Jim Corbett Reserve.

Everything seems to be in order!!

Nearby, a river running out of the reserve was the first such river I had seen in India I would ever consider getting into. One had a certain duty to do just that under the circumstances (it was about 35 degrees).

Lina on Tiger patrol.

Once we were satisfied, and I had submitted my report to my sister, it was back to Delhi and our regular haunt owned by the ever helpful and friendly Mr Singh. Mr S was the GC who put us onto the Golden Temple and lunger in Amritsar.

And just like that, Lina and my 10 weeks together in the subcontinent was over, he left on a Sunday.

I was left to site see New Delhi and organise my next few visas etc alone. However, a few days later I was back aboard an overnight train bound for Palitana and Alang in the Pakistan bordering state of Gujarat.

Gujarat, a semi arid state, has a population with diverse religious beliefs and is home to India’s largest population of Jain’s. Palitana is located adjacent to the Jain’s most sacred site, a 600m high hill capped with some 863 temples.

It’s a 3,600 step journey to the top or about a two ride if you’re carried by two poor buggers.

It happened to be God’s birthday when I visited, so they were throwing him a bash at the top amongst the temples. It was also the school holidays during which all the Jain kids from Mumbai were visiting and completing their religious rite of passage; ascending the mountain 99 times. I thought that was nuts, it was 44 degrees in Palitana that day, sure a little cooler up the mountain (especially on the ridgelines that catch the sea breeze), but still 99 times, why?

Back at the bottom of the hill, I was told there was lunch being put on, great, I was hungry. Now I know there is no such thing as a free lunch (if for no other reason than the opportunity cost of having something else), but it turned out the spread wasn’t only free, they gave you a small amount of money as a gift too?? I know, unheard of. Despite what you may think, I did feel incredibly awkward accepting money from the same people serving me a kick arse free lunch. It seems Marius may have left a week too soon; he would have loved this.

Local kids, with the temple topped hill in the distant background.

Alang, located on Gujarat’s coast is home to the largest ship breaking yard in the world. What’s a ship breaking yard I hear some of you ask, well it’s the opposite of a ship construction yard; it’s where ships go to die. As we speak there are some 200 grounded on Alang’s coast in various stages of destruction. The photo above shows some of those ship’s bridges peering out high above the surroundings. Unfortunately on Alang trip 1.0 this was as close as I got as I was turned around at the check point for being a foreigner.

You see a few years ago other foreigners, who were actually from Greenpeace, came down here took a bunch of photos and basically caused a lot of problems for the management pertaining to the environmental impacts and worker conditions. No doubt they are right (comparing it to western standards that is). Considering my interests in the shipping trade, being barred a mere 200m from seeing what is, undoubtedly, a simply awesome sight was just killing me. I took the contact number and would see what could be done.

It wasn’t a complete loss though; this part of Gujarat has some impressive looking bullocks with some even more impressive horns. I’d like to see you lop those off Godfrey!
The boys at home on the farm.

While the girls are in town, a familiar story in our family.

While in Alang a pair of bullocks pulling a cart of branches (as you do) passed me, one of these bullocks had horns easily bigger than I had ever seen. Literally the size of your thighs (if not bigger), had I not been paralysed by disbelief, I would have taken a snap.

So here’s an artists (the word is obviously being used rather liberally) impression.

A chance encounter with a fabric walla called Kirit turned into an offer from him to accompany me to the shipyard and show me around which he thought would be no problem seeing he knew people; this is a ‘who you know’ kind of place. Great, so I made the 1000km train journey back to Delhi to continue the visa admin before returning a few days later for Alang 2.0 where I was assured we’d visit the yard. Long story short, same check point, same problem – light skin people not allowed, Indian friend or no Indian friend.
This is what I would have seen.

At this point I’m pretty pissed, I had just suffered one of my great disappointments of the trip (to go along with not getting David Letterman tickets in time and being stuck in this sausage fest I seem incapable of getting out of over the past year).

I would have to settle for checking out all the plots of ship related recycled stuff –oh yay. There were actually some pretty interesting ones – ship engines, propeller shafts, generators, 1970’s furniture. Here Kirit stands in front of the Lifeboat plot.

The stainless steel kitchenware plot.
There was even a Cold Storage Door plot, seriously, some of these places must have a pretty low turnover.

How to make friends and influence people in India: grow a curler! (it’s a little orange because I got Fanta in it). Seriously though, the Indians love it, everyday I’m getting “Hey Mr, nice mooch”, Lina can testify to this. Sadly though, as my time in India passes into history so has the stash, and in preparation for my next leg the day of the beard has dawned.

Beware of Touts indeed.

People, it’s time for another “you know what really grinds my gears”.

You know what really grinds my gears, grinds them like trying to engage reverse when still creeping forward? Scammers. Sure these people maybe poorer than us and are merely opportunists and if the “foreigner” agrees to a price then what’s the harm? Ok, sure you got a point there, basically you’re saying taking advantage of the naivety and vulnerability is ok. Alright, but my big grippe is with those who in my eyes are just blatantly dishonest and lie to meet their ends. Poor or rich there’s no excuse for that.

Marius and I have come across numerous scams first hand and second hand. One of simple example of blatant dishonesty was the Kathmandu Laundry guy, you see you pay by the kg, he weights it and it says 6, now I’m no smuck, I know what 6 and 3 kgs feels like, so I take it somewhere else for a second weighing, sure enough 3kgs. I go back to the guy, he claims to know nothing about it, but he’s using a pounds scale and charging people for Kgs - dishonestly. Another is the fake hotel drop off by the crooked auto rickshaw driver (is there any other kind you ask) that has the same name and claims to be the place from the guide book you were looking for – dishonestly. However, those pail to this one – this really sends the ‘teeth flying’. We heard a young German couples story (they had just returned from Kashmir) who arrived into Delhi, went to the “Official Tourist Office” (scam, not really the real one) in town and are soon bullied into a tour to Kashmir, they pay 4 times the usual flight cost and once there, burly men confront them on their houseboat demanding they pay 300 Euros each for a 4 day trek and fly off the handle when they refuse. At this point it turns criminal, the boy is manhandled, the young couple scared, pay them 200 Euros to be driven to the railway station so they can get the hell out of there. The driver stays with them until they get on the train so they don’t talk to the Police. This is a young 20 year old couple being taken advantage of, they had come to India for some travelling and these people do this? This is the extreme example, but it’s the point of what I call the ‘scammer pyramid’.

It is not the only story from inexperienced travellers being taken advantage of either. Lesson is, if you plan to come to Asia, have your guard up in the tourist areas as most people who start talking to you are merely reading the ATM sign on your forehead.

As the sun sets on my time here in the Sub-continent what have I learnt and can I make a linguistically dazzling summary for you all? Well, I’m feeling the pressure to perform so I think I’ll just recall a short conversation I had with (as cliché as it sounds) a guy on the bus. He asked a question and wanted an honest answer: “how you feel about India?”

Well, India is very different to where I come from. From what I can see she is grossly over populated (and continues to be) which acerbates her crippling and heartbreaking poverty and the urban environment is filthy (which is difficult to see past). However, despite being poor, she is rich in culture, spirituality and life (there is always something going on – a real assault on the senses). The average person seems happy and content, family and religion are the source of great pleasure and happiness. They are curious and friendly, and paradoxically, generous and hospitable. In the West we are rich in material things, but poorier in culture and more distant with our family members.

The Budda made a reference to the attachment to material things, that to find true happiness we need to annul ourselves of material objects as these can only lead to a sense of lost which leads to sadness. Certainly immense wealth won’t make you happy if you can’t share it, or the experiences with others. It’s clear that others are the most important thing to people, India may not have the Benjamin’s but they know and have what’s important – each other.

For now though, it’s time for one last night of Langar at the Golden Temple then i head to Persia (Iran), to get there I need to cross Pakistan – Yippy kayee mf's.

Trekking Sagarmatha National Park

2009-04-30T22:06:00.065+12:00

(Remember if you want to view an enlarged image just click on it)

Late in March while Marius and I were still in India, we couldn’t stop our thoughts drifting towards April and our much anticipated trip to Nepal to trek to Everest Base Camp (EBC) in the Sagarmartha National Park in the heart of the Himalaya. This was especially true seeing I had just recently read Ed Hillary’s Biography detailing a lot of his adventures and work in the area. In all honesty we were super excited about spending a few weeks amongst the highest mountains in the world. We weren’t sure of the specifics of how to go about getting to BC, we just assumed we’d turn up and organize it our self instead of a tour.

By the way, Sagarmartha is the Nepalese word for Mt Everest, Chomolungma is the Tibetan name which the Sherpa people who live in the National Park refer to it as seeing their culture is derived from Tibet.
The Nepal leg didn’t begin well for Marius, while riding atop the bus to Kathmandu through the Nepalese countryside he was struck down by a bug; pitty he couldn’t fully enjoy the classic Nepalese experience. I didn’t last long on top, the swaying from side to side as we rounded hillside corners was just a bit much for me, I figured I’d have a better chance of survival inside the bus if and when it rolled!

We would spend a week in Kathmandu organizing permits, flights, gear (90% of which is original fakes) etc which was time consuming, but easy as trekking is big business in Nepal so the tourist area in the capital is well set up for it. Here I’m trying on a full down suit used for high altitude climbing like those used for Mt Everest, I wouldn’t require it for this trip.

The map shows the location of Lukla and Mt Everest (along with a few other relevant places and the route we would walk) which lies on the border with Tibet. Our objective was to go to EBC, but seeing that is only a 12 day round trip (we had given ourselves about 20 days) we had time to explore other parts of the park.

There are no roads connecting the Sagarmatha NP area with the outside world so everything must either be carried in by porter from Lukla where we would arrive by plane to begin our trek instead of walking the extra 5 days from the nearest road. Lukla airport was built by our very own Ed Hillary and his Himalayan Trust to make area more accessible. Landing and taking off on a hillside airstrip surrounded by mountains that’s on a 12 degree slope and only 500m long is a great rush.

Many boulders along the way are adorned by Tibetan pray scriptures.

Now about 90% of the other tourist we passed along the trails had guides or porters (often they were part of an organized tour group), being Kiwis we had neither, so we navigated and carried everything ourselves. After hearing how expensive the food was in the furthest reaches of the Solu Khumbu valley (the main valley leading to EBC) we decided to take a few extra snacks with us, meaning i would be trekking with a pack weighing 24kg at its heaviest point, which I can assure you was no ‘walk in the park’. Then we would come across porter after porter (many of them the local Sherpa men and women) carry quiet unbelievable loads. Here, the guy on the left is taking a break halfway up the 600m height hill that leads to the village of Namche Bazar, his ‘pack’ weights 107kg he told us, 107!!! Our complaining about weight quickly faded after meetings like these.

Then there is this guy, hauling up an iron pipe to be used in the construction of a small hydro power plant, weighing a meager 110kg! These guys are the real supermen.

Here Struan (otherwise known as Golim) overlooks Namche, a modern day Machu Picchu. We befriended Straun and invited him to join Marius and I on the trip after hearing he was looking at doing the trek alone while we were in a sandwich joint in Kathmandu.

Close to Namche are another couple of small villages where Sir Ed built his first school for the Sherpas at the end of one of his Himalayan climbing expeditions. Through his Himalayan Trust, he would go on to build more schools, hospitals, bridges etc throughout the wider area for the rest of his life. Sir Edmond is much loved in these parts due to his selfless work, and as a result of his achievements (1st man to climb Mt Everest in 1953 among others) and charity, New Zealanders are greeted fondly too.

Playing BYC with the local Sherpa children at one of Ed’s first schools in Khumjung.
Pray wheels.

Budda’s all-seeing eyes.

A few days into the hike we started to get close to the ‘roof of the world’ and the Everest massive. Here Marius and Struano, still some distance from it, marvel the sight of the Nuptse/Lhotse wall which obstructs our view of Mt Everest. Lhotse, the highest point on the right, at 8,516m is the 4th highest mountain on earth.

The small Sherpa villages along the way where the teahouse were located where we would sleep for the majority of the time still use tradition methods of building construction. It’s strangely fascinating to watch granite being chipped and shaped to construct a homes wall.

The early morning sun licks the tops of a near-by peak. I can assure you it’s ten times better in real life.

At this time of year (spring) the weather cycle in the mountains is surprisingly predictable. The mornings are brilliantly clear and cool and then around 2pm the clouds and haze from the lowlands flow up the valleys, so trekking is best done early in the day and cards/journal in the teahouse in the afternoons as most things are obscured by that point.

Here I’m walking along a lateral moraine (is that right Joel or is there a more technical term for the high sides of a glacier?) towards the base of the Lhotse wall. It’s an awesome sight, and you are just drawn closer to it. We were at about 5,100m by this point and as part of our acclimatization cycling I would need to descend back down a few hundred meters to Chhukhung to sleep that night to avoid altitude induced illnesses (starts with headaches) which can lead to some serious health issues to say the least…

We would spend 4 nights at the Makalu lodge in Chhukhung in part because there was a lot to see and do in the area (its also off the main tourist track)….

…. But i think it was mainly because of the hospitality and cooking of Birbahadur (above with Ama Dhablam behind him)….

….especially his Dal Bhat (traditional Nepalese ‘all you can eat’ meal). Just what hungry trekkers need after a full day out and about.

Near-by home with slate stone roof tiles.

We were also lucky enough to meet a couple Canadians who stayed with us, Chris and Sam, who were in the region climbing and acclimatizing for their Mt Everest assault a few weeks later. Dangerously inspiring to hear about the ins and out of high altitude climbing….

Despite being near the ends of the earth, you can’t escape the chores of washing. Stones, soap and luke warm water – making the best of what you’ve got.

The sun maybe shinning but it was the coldest wash I’ve ever had. As a result it was the second and last I had on the entire trip. Being clean in the wilderness just wasn’t worth the effort.

I did mention it was ‘cool’ in the mornings didn’t i? For most of the trip the nights were sub zero, and so they should be, it is the Himalayas after all.

A flag flutters over a teahouse in Chhukhung.

View back down the valley from which we came from Chhukhung Ri (5,550m), a ‘knob’ on a ridgeline that extends to the Lhotse wall.

Fransua, who was staying with us at Makalu lodge joined us three for the climb.

From here you can see several of the planets fourteen 8,000m+ peaks, along with many others over 6,000m (to put that in perspective, outside of the Himalayas there are only a handful in South America and only one in North America that are over 6,000m).

Looking the other way towards the ridge’s summit of 5,833m below Nuptse, due to some bad cheese the day before and altitude headaches most would not make.

Ward you’ll love this, Marius ‘Russell Brice’ Lina watches my progress from Base Camp far below (dark figure on the ridgeline in lower left corner) as I push for the summit (without O’s). Minutes later, he lost sight of me prompting questions about whether the summit bid was really successful……?

I can only assure you it was. Here’s the view from 19,137 ft of Ama Dablam and the boulder strewn surface of the Nuptse glacier. At this height the Atmospheric pressure (and hence the oxygen content) is slightly less than 50% of that at Sea Level making the climb breath taking for several reasons.

Cool waterfall.

Somewhere along the line the three of us got the feeling we were part of the lord of the Rings, on some sort of Fellowship across Middle Earth (maybe it was just the altitude getting to us?) to Mordor/Mt Doom (Everest). The similarities we encountered and smack talk was cause for numerous laughs. Here Golim, shows us (Frodo and Samwise) the way at Minus Morgul AKA the Kongma La Pass. “Come on hobbits, this way”

The high pass glacier is now a mere shadow of its former self. This part of the Himalayas didn’t receive much snow this winter, this, along with the obvious reduction of some of the major glacier levels leads one to only think Mr A. Gore Jnr maybe onto something.

Above the icy lake lies the pass, gateway to the Khumbu valley.

After the 600m decent from the pass, we cross the Khumbu Glacier to complete our toughest day – a buggering 8 hrs of climbing and scrambling.
Around day 11 we arrived into Gorak Shep, the closest group of teahouses to EBC, it happened to be the day a bunch of English lads were playing cricket there to raise money for charity. Hillary vs Tenzing.

For the record, Team Hillary was first, Team Tenzing came second.

Due to the cricket the 4 teahouses in Gorak were full, so a teahouse made a Mt Everest expedition tent available to us for the 3 days we were there. That suited us just fine. You can just make out Sagamartha herself peaking out above the ridgeline directly above the centre of the tent. Magic spot for some camping.

The tent was a welcomed refuge after the day’s activities as the sun would warm it to nearly 30°C when it may have been only single figures outside.

That didn’t help us at night though when the temp dropped to -10 °C.

Equipped with ‘Eds’ 1953 style hats, we gazed upon the magnificent Mt Everest.

Pray flags atop Kala Patthar the most popular vantage point above Gorak Shep for viewing Everest, the Khumbu Ice Fall (that flows from the Western Cwm) and EBC. The crisp clear colours are just something else.

The view along the ridge back down the Khumbu valley, with glaciers either side of us.

Everest Base Camp from our distant vantage point.

Everest catches the last of the days rays.

Porters, tourists and Yaks caravans all share the same tracks.

Next day it was off to EBC located at the base of the Khumbu ice fall.

EBC is literally located on the Khumbu Glacier.

As the glacier edges down the valley it melts, revealing its concealed cargo.

Climbers attempting to summit Mt Everest from the South (as Hillary’s 1953 expedition did) must first climb up through the ice fall.

Having brought crampons in Kathmandu it seemed an obvious opportunity to try them out and venture into the Ice Fall, moving aside as the Sherpas and Everest climbers passed us.

An unreal experience considering New Zealand’s history with the mountain and having had a flatmate who was near obsessed with Discovery’s – Everest and Beyond – series ‘starring NZ’s Russell Brice.

Making our way back to EBC, yet another great day in the Himalaya.

Having been to the steps of Mt Doom we began the long hike back to Lukla.

First though, we would pass over the ice cover pass of Cho La Pass to another valley which promised yet more fantastic views.

Ducks cruise in the early morning light on Gokyo lake where we would stay before climbing Gokyo Ri.

Everest is on the left, Gokyo is on the shore of the lake below alongside the glacier.

For about $30,000 USD, all up, you can have a crack that will give you a realistic chance of summiting Everest, all things going well of course.

Typical rural scene as you pass through the lower valleys.

Having been up in the mountains for nearly 3 weeks, we were glad to get back to Lukla and only a 30 minute flight away from a few of the comforts of civilization (and mums parcel of NZ sweets), but we knew it wouldn’t be long before we missed the clear air, bright sun and complete lack of noise created by the modern combustion engine.

In all, by my tally, we walked for a total of 73hrs, covered 180km and climbed a total of 9,650 vertical meters, over half of which was with our full packs.

If your thinking of doing the EBC trek, I recommend organizing it yourself instead of with a guide or tour group, that way you’ll have the freedom to do as you please when you’re there and it’ll cost a third or quarter the price too, excluding any gear you pick up before hand. Autumn and Spring are the best months.

For now though its back to India for a few weeks where i'll soon be alone again as Marius soon returns to Aotearoa.