Westward Ho!

Even though I promised myself no more traveling due to rapidly dwindling funds, I couldn't resist a spontaneous roadtrip to the outback during our mid-semester break. With only a vague itinerary in mind, five of us packed into a Wicked campervan that was in questionable condition. Carnarvon gorge would be our eventual destination, but getting there and back was an adventure in itself. Located 800km northwest of Brisbane, the gorge is an oasis in middle of central Queensland's notoriously dry highlands, with springfed crystal clear waters feeding the surrounding tropical rainforest, enclosed by towering sandstone cliffs. As we drove further west, the towns grew smaller and the townspeople grew wider. My doubts of Australia having the world's highest obesity rates have since been put to rest.

We pulled into Carnarvon National Park late in the afternoon, found that the main campgrounds were full but we could take the trail to Big Bend, where campsites located 10 km away were still unoccupied. So, with only a few hours of solid daylight left, we packed up what we need for the night and hiked. Quickly. The trail was relatively flat, but very tricky terrain because we were basically following the riverbed. Even when it hasn't rained for months, Carnarvon Creek still flows steadily, as rain throughout the year percolates slowly through the sandstone and seeps out into the gorge. We passed Cathedral Cave, which houses some of the Australia's most well-preserved rock art, showcasing work by aboriginals over 3500 years old. We reached our campsite at dusk, a fabulous site with our own personal pool and cliffs that provided great acoustics for our iPod speaker setup. We were the only ones around for miles, and we celebrated our good fortune with cold beers. From the case that I carried for 3 hours.

Lush greenery in the Carnarvon oasis

Aboriginal stencil art with and handprints

Sandstone cliffs surrounding our campsite

The next couple of days were spent sweating, hiking, swimming or a combination of all three, and it was blissful. So of course we blew a tire on the way driving out of the park. Did I mention we had already blown the spare tire on the way drving into the park? Right. Did I mention we were in the outback with no cellphone or radio reception? Interesting. So we sat by the side of the road... and waited. After a couple of hours somebody drove by saying he could fix our tires, so he left with two of our friends while we waited at the van. 5 hours later... we were still waiting. It was growing darker with the setting sun and the rain was starting to pour down outside. Inevitably images of Wolf Creek began to creep into my thoughts. I was about to switch from mildly worried to deeply concerned, when we saw headlights in the distance. Our friends were back! With new friends! And beer! The tires still weren't fixed, but our night was salvaged. After an impromptu roadside party and a few angry phone calls, we were on our way home the following morning, only 30 hours behind schedule.

Still happy campers

One Hike to Rule Them All

After quick review of the New Zealand trip, I've roughly calculated that our journey consisted on 25% driving and 75% hiking. Despite some hairy experiences with tackling driving on the wrong side of the road, everything seemed to fall into place, with even the weather started cooperating after we arrived in Queenstown.

Okay so here I have summarized the best of the best of NZ hiking:

The Diamond Trek, just outside of Lake Wanaka. Often referred to as the prettiest short hike in NZ, we did this hike on a spectacular sunny day (the only one we had entirely without rain). We had the trail almost completely to ourselves, save for some curious four-footed onlookers.




Franz Josef Glacier hike. Definitely some of the most fun I had in the South Island. Every day the guides hack out a new trail in the stunning blue ice, a solid mass of more than a billion cubic metres moving rapidly each day. We spent a full day on the glacier, digging through ice caves, squeezing through tight crevasses and sliding down ice tunnels.





Tongariro Crossing. Renowned as the best dayhike in the country, this gruelling trail takes you through some beautiful and bizarre scenery. After walking through flat tundra-like landscape, you're faced with the Devil's Staircase - a steep climb up 1400m that passses lava flows and detritus from the still active volcano. We reached the 1900m summit in 3 hours, only to be surrounded by fog so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face.





Fast forward to the Blue Mountains, a region featuring spectacular rock formations, waterfalls and bushwalks (the Aussie term for hiking trails). A blue haze hovers over the entire mountain range, produced from the oil of eucalyptus trees in the surrounding forest. It's here that we endured the toughest and longest hike yet. Some locals took us through a relatively unknown trail passing through rainforest, steep rock faces and abandoned mine shafts. After 5 hours of hiking, we thought it would be a great idea to tackle the Giant Staircase, an absolute nightmare consisting of a steel staircase winding up vertical 300m and leading to the peaks of the Three Sisters. Its like doing a full day of tough hiking, followed by climbing the CN Tower. Somehow we managed. Two weeks of trekking produces some pretty solid muscle.

A Ride to Remember

The ferry crossing between Wellington and Picton is one of New Zealand's most iconic tourist experiences, and supposed to be one of the most spectacular cruises in the world. Our journey began on a typical New Zealand morning - grey and drizzly, but still picturesque nonetheless, gliding past mountains reflected in the Picton's calm harbour waters. After parking their cars, families and travelers quickly found seats on the upper decks and settled in for three hour journey.

As the ship eased out of the sheltered harbour and entered the open waters of the Cook Strait, the winds began to pick up, and the seas began to get rough. Really rough. Although the ferry crossing only covers 92 km, it takes place at a latitude known as the 'Roaring 40s' because of its unpredictable and furious winds. The strait is located where the Tasman Sea meets the South Pacific, funnelling westerly winds and deflects them to the north, which in the right conditions can produce the perfect storm. On this particular day, it brought in winds gusting to 60 or 70 knots, and within a few minutes, we were sailing through blowing 6 m swells.

The top deck was closed due to the severe weather, and the decks below were lined with people looking out in awe of the huge waves below. Sprays from the bigger waves came up 20m high, completely dousing the unsuspecting onlookers, which made for a great show from my perspective at the rear of the boat. We sailed on, and the storm only intensified as the waves kept getting bigger. For some reason, the captain turned the ship parallel to the wind, which meant that the brunt of the waves was being felt, rocking the boat heavily from side to side. As a sailor and somewhat of a thrill-seeker, I was totally loving this weather... but inside was another story.


A crowd of people on the deck

Once I stepped inside, it felt like the remaining passenger decks were ground zero of a disaster scenario. Children, the elderly and entire families were laid low by seasickness. They held vomit bags to their faces, wailed for help from frantic crew members or just laid facedown on the ground, completely incapacitated by nausea. The halls echoed with horrible sounds of people vomiting and crying, dishes flying off the shelves in the kitchen and crashing to the floor, and chairs and tables scraping across the floor. Over the main intercom, the captain gave repeated updates on the weather conditions, and car owners were called to the parking lots below to shut off their vehicle alarm systems. I had to escape outside to the freezing decks in order to avoid being overcome by nausea myself.


Biggest waves I've ever seen

Finally, the rocking motions eased and we entered the North Island channel opening and safely docked at Wellington harbour. Only two hours behind schedule, and a little bit worse for wear. The pain will soon be forgotten though. Tomorrow is our most gruelling hike yet - a 6 hour hike up to the summit of Mt Tongariro, or perhaps better known as Mordor.

Middle Earth

Milford Sound, glacial valleys in the Fjordlands.


Field of lupins in front of Mitre Peak


Glacier and floating ice berg at Mt Cook