Chapter 1. Delhi to Pushkar

Chapter 2. Arambol to Fort Cochin and back again

Chapter 3. Singapore to Bangkok

Chapter 4. Koh Phangan to Pangadaran

Chapter 5. Yogyakarta to Exmouth

Chapter 6. Adelaide to Brisbane

Chapter 7. Noosa to Mount Maunganui

Chapter 8. Auckland to Home



From the hustle of downtown Brisbane we dive again into the laid back beach life of Noosa Heads, a beautiful little town a couple of hours up the coast.

Noosa has a pristine sweep of beach that even in these Winter days attracts plenty of sun seekers, some in swimwear and some fully dressed but all happily lolling about in the sand staring out to sea. Along the promenade are the shops where people go when they are bored with everything else, for ice cream, clothes, hair, food, beauty its all on offer. If you turn right at the tourist information kiosk and follow the road round edge of the beach, up over the hill and down the other side you come to the entrance of Noosa national park, an area of woodland and coastline of outstanding natural beauty. Follow the coastal path for around 30 minutes and you'll find Alexandria Beach with just a handful of people enjoying the gold sand and glass clear water. Australia really does have the best beaches in the world. Why? Because there are so many of them and so few people to trample them into dirty, worn out stretches.

From Noosa the Greyhound rolls relentlessly on, this time to Hervey Bay, a sprawled low rise town which is difficult to walk around because it is so widely spread. It seems that the locals don't walk anywhere anyway, this is a car nation and many won't think twice about long drives for shopping or entertainment. Hervey doesn't have a lot to offer the backpacker in itself but people don't come for Hervey they come because this is the gateway to Frazer Island, the biggest sand island in the world and another place on the world heritage list.

The ferry leaves Hervey marina at 8.45am for the 45 minute crossing to the island where it lands at Kingfisher Bay the only hotel resort on Frazer. The island is a wilderness haven of long deserted beaches, inland fresh water lakes and rainforests. Camping is popular here as is finding your way around by day hire four wheel drive jeeps. The resort is surrounded by a fence to keep the wild dingos from savaging for waste food from the bins and all around there are signs about these wild dogs telling you to keep small children near. It tells you that if you are confronted by them not to turn and run but to stay facing them and slowly back away. Rather disconcertingly it adds that if you are attacked by a dingo to 'defend yourself aggressively'. Well I wasn't thinking of just putting my hands on my head and smiling.

After several hours of wandering around I find myself on the beach inspecting the leaning trees whose roots are exposed by natural erosion. The sun is starting to set and I turn to make my way back to the jetty when I catch sight of a light brown figure on four legs making its way up the beach toward me. I look around but the nearest people are some way in the distance. I keep walking towards it and hold eye contact with the animal as we come closer. His head is held low and he is checking me out for dinner potential. I try to look calm and in charge and he passes by maybe 12 feet away, takes a last glance and trots his way up the beach with a new purpose. The sunset over the sea on the ferry back to Hervey is glorious in red and gold on the green blue of the salt water and as the light fades the colours change to pink and purples to backdrop the catamarans anchored by the islands on route.

It's the following day and Greyhound Australia ploughs relentlessly onward up the coast eating mile after mile of road through Apple Tree Creek, Gin Gin, Rockhampton, small towns and townships we keep rolling past hour after hour to Serina and Mackay until at 3am the big red rolls past the twinkling lights of the boats in the marina at Airlie Beach. This is backpacker party town and the place you pick up a boat tour of the Whitsunday Islands and start of the Great Barrier Reef. After this time in Australia I am coming to understand why Britain is such a popular place to visit from overseas, despite its errant weather. Britain has the essential components for travellers, great history, great culture, great architecture and entertainment, transport infrastructure and cosmopolitan population. These make it a premier world destination.

I have one more mammoth haul on the Greyhound to get to Cairnes, around 13 hours but I take some solace in the fact that this will probably be the longest for the remainder of this journey as New Zealand is much smaller and from one place of interest to another is much less. Paradoxically the beautiful resort of Airlie Beach doesn't have much of a beach at all but like many east coast towns it has fine landscaped gardens and walkways along the waterfront. Shute Harbour Road is the only main street that parallels the esplanade and is a predictable muddle of travel agent, bakery, bar, travel agent and so on. Like Hervey though, Airlie is more of a springboard to somewhere else, in this case the Whitsunday Islands where people come to sail their boats from all over the world. Like most people I take a charter tour out into the islands and our boat, Mantaray is a 50 foot propeller driven craft. I had hoped to board a sailed racing yacht for Whitsundays but once again lack of sufficient advanced booking meant those were all full.

The water is choppy this morning and the sun is struggling with the clouds to break through. The Mantaray powers its way out of Airlie harbour and for 45 minutes we bounce our way into the open sea arriving in due course at a small bay on the far side of Whitsunday Island where a few other vessels have anchored. In batches of eight we hop into the smaller dingy at the back of the boat and are taken to shore and invited to follow the path to the look out point above. It's a fairly underwhelming kind of bay and our expectations are currently modest. As we approach the look out point we expect some panoramic vista but I don't think any of us quite expected the magnificence of Whitehaven beach. I have never seen a beach like this and it is probably the most amazing beach I've ever seen which is praise indeed as I have been on beaches across Asia, India, Wales, the Caribbean and of course the rest of Australia. Firstly, the tide is low and the expanse of sand must be 400 meters across. Neither is this ordinary sand, it is gleaming white and powdery, apparent made up of 86 percent silica which gives it these characteristics. Where the land meets the sea the water is deep turquoise and bottle greens, clear as a bell with small lagoons caught in places along the shore. Whitehaven reminds me of all those desert islands in the books you read as a child and you can only sit and stare at the natural beauty of it all.

After a buffet lunch back on board we head off to the most northerly of the islands for snorkelling at Blue Pearl Bay. The water is cool and wetsuits are provided. As I sink into the water from the back of the boat my suit begins to fill up with water and I shiver and fin my way towards the shallows. Slowly the coral reefs come into view and with them an abundance of marine creatures that almost equal the variety of the Ningaloo reef off Western Australia. This is world class snorkelling and the fish seem completely unphased by my presence. The corals are blue and yellow and pink, the fish are black and blue bodied with yellow tails. Big parrot fish of greens and stripes of red and blue nibble titbits off the corals while I try and ignore the cold, the water up my nose and in my mask. Steve the captain of the Mantaray comes alongside in the dingy and throws a handful of fishfood over my head which causes a feeding frenzy of fishes and they are all over me darting left and right, up and down, rushing for their part of the treat.

Under normal circumstances the one hour journey back to Airlie would be a sedate affair with a cup of tea and a biscuit but not today. The sea has become more choppy still and Steve powers the boat across the swell with forceful determination. The result is that we all feel like we're competing in the powerboat world championships as the Mantaray bounces, pitches and rolls like a fairground ride, bashing its way against the current. The retired Australians try to look like they have seen it all before, I stand and hang on to a ceiling rail enjoying the trill of the ride but the husband and father to my right is now green in the face and head down in one of the dustbins throwing up. We get back into harbour as the sun is setting and I'm very happy to learn that I don't get seasick so that's a bonus on the day. It would be nice to take longer at the Whits, perhaps on one of the racing yachts or tall ships with an overnight stay but the Greyhound is waiting and I must go to Cairnes for my last few days before transit back to Sydney.

Cairnes is another well set out, clean and safe feeling Australian town next to the ocean and the temperature is noticeably more tropical here. Many people come here for the Barrier Reef which is some 40km offshore but I don't feel the need to see that after the Ningaloo reef on the west coast and more recently the Whitsundays. Instead I choose an afternoon cruise to the Trinity Inlet, a maze of crocodile infested mangrove swamps beside Cairnes harbour. Unfortunately the crocs are not feeling sociable today but it's interesting to see the bird life and hear about how the Barrier Reef would be dead without the mangroves because as pollutants are washed down toward the sea from the mountains the mangroves soak them up and prevent them killing the coral and fish out on the reef. The tour concludes at a commercial crocodile farm set in the swamps where crocs are reared for handbags, belts and shoes at a value of 5 dollars per square centimetre of belly skin. There are thousands of the critters here, all munching on out of date supermarket chickens and lying very still in the mud. Their biggest single client is Armani. If attacked by a crocodile apparently the best policy is to stick your fist as far down its throat as possible which prevents it holding its breath when it tries to drag you into the water to drown you. I'll try and remember that.

The other major reason for coming here is that Cairnes is one of the top skydiving centres in Australia and throwing myself out of a plane with a few bits of nylon for company has been on my lifetime agenda for a few years now. There's a backlog at the skydive centre and so we are encouraged to hang out and watch the DVDs of other people's dives. I'm more reflective than nervous. In fact I don't think I scared of a quick death, but I am scared of a slow death or being paralysed. My instructor is Max, a middle aged ozzie who looks like he's jumped ten thousand times and is rather bored with doing tandem jumps with tourists but he's in it for the money. He belts me up in the harness and goes through some posture demonstrations before the bus door slides open and six students and six instructors pile in. It takes around 20 minutes to get to the airport and the mood on the bus is quiet. We pull up to a wire mesh fence and the single propeller plane draws up near the gate with its side door open. Max is sitting in the doorway and demonstrates the right position for departure when its time to fall and then he disappears inside and I follow. It's very cramped in there, side by side and stacked back to front. I feel like the guy in front is sitting on me. We taxi to the runway and the instructors are checking their video cameras as the engine roars to full power and we speed down the tarmac, taking off much more quickly than a passenger jet would. The young Scottish girl to my left is looking terrified and I wonder if she will go through with it. I think to myself that it's actually quite hard to back out at this stage because one way or another you're strapped to your instructor and he's going to push you out of the door.

It takes another 20 minutes climbing to get up above the broken cloud to 14000 feet and you can tell the green light will come on soon by looking at the altimeters strapped to the instructor's wrists and the fact that they are putting on woolly hats and adjusting their sunglasses straps. I am ready. The green light comes on. I'm third out. The side door slides open and number one perches for a moment in the howling wind. He's gone. There's no going back now is there, I ask myself? Number two is at the door..... gone but I can't see their faces from where I am. Max pushes me forward and my feet are out of the door, arms crossed, head back. He rolls me forward and my eyes register the vast nothingness drop below us. My mind panics as it has never seen a sight like this but this must be what it looks like to step off a tall building to commit suicide. I'm falling at 120 miles an hour. I have to snap out of panic attack and assume the arch position, feet back, arms in a w shape, head back. I have no feeling of the speed we are falling but I know instinctively that if we hit something there and then we would be dead. Max spins us left and then right. I'm whooping at the insane joy of the experience. We spin left again and then enter the moisture of the clouds. For a few moments I cannot see anything but I hear the parachute deploy and from facing down I'm now upright pulled by the harness. Welcome to the new horror, we must be 5000 feet above the floor and are depending on a paper thin nylon sheet for life. The views out to the Barrier Reef and the mountains to the south are amazing but I can't enjoy them fully because so much is going on. Max lets me take the pulleys of the chute and we make a 360 loop, then a 180 turn and another. We head for the land zone where I can see two of those on our flight are already down. I try and enjoy the last moments of this extraordinary experience as we make a textbook landing on two feet. In a few moments everyone is down and smiling. The tension has gone and everyone wants to compare stories. My first reaction is that I want to go straight back up and do it again but at 150 pounds a pop that's just not possible today. There is relief, happiness and the common knowledge that we few have done something very few people on earth will ever get to experience. Tick the box.

Of course taking a journey like this is not all fun and games. There are plenty of problems back home that you have to keep on top of and thank goodness I can rely on my sister to help sort many of them out. You can't predict what will happen over nine months but you can guarantee that problems will arise and you will have to deal with them from 12000 miles away. In a similar vein not everyone you meet or mix with will be friendly and have your best interests at heart. It's easy to think that because you are a free spirit having fun, everyone else is going to be equally cheerful. Unfortunately that's just not true. Australians are mainly friendly and helpful people but Australia is like any other country in the world, it has nice people but also people who want to cause you grief and then there are those with clear mental health issues. I encountered one of the latter on a bus in Perth. For no reason whatsoever this guy decided he had a problem with me and within 10 seconds was telling me that he had just been released from prison and that he was a psychotic c*** and that if I made him go back inside he would make sure I was sorry. When you're faced with a situation like that your natural reaction is to react with pride, that you are not going to get pushed around, you're going to stand up for yourself and tell the guy where to get off. Unfortunately history is littered with people whose pride got in the way of common sense and they ended up shot, stabbed and dead. I've seen too many media reports to want to fall victim to those circumstances. I had a clear choice, walk away and live another day or take a massive chance of severe harm just to satisfy your ego. I got off that bus at the next stop and waited for the next one. It's just better to walk away from confrontation like that and live another day. Pick your battles. One way or another I suspect that guy is heading back to prison because he's self destructive. I decided that I wasn't going to go down with him.

After an uneventful flight I find myself back in Sydney for a few days before I change countries again and the freezing cold of Winter New Zealand kicks in. I think it's important to pace yourself on a long trip. You simply can't keep hitting the pavements day after day as you will burn yourself out. I took these few days in Sydney to not do very much at all. Sure there are things I haven't seen here and more I haven't done but I have another two months on the road and so I used my time to chill out, read my new book, do the laundry, cook, go and see the new Simpsons movie (which is excellent even coming from a luke warn Simpsons fan) and prepare for the next leg of the world tour. I have also taken this time to try and be more mindful about what I eat. It's easy to fall into the trap of convenience eating but the fact is that the more convenient the food then generally the less nutritional value it has. I'm still running every other day and now have started taking a daily vitamin supplement as I would normally do at home. You really do have to take care of yourself when you're on such a long haul and in your forties. This led me to think harder about cooking for myself and what was good in terms of budget and nutritional value. It's easy to convince yourself that cooking for one doesn't work but in fact it does, you just have to work a little harder. The other challenge is that most hostels only have gas hob and microwave oven so anything that needs grilling or oven roasting is out. I've managed to develop a little repertoire of dishes that work for me that include chicken fricassee, coq au vin, savoury mince, stir fry pork, Irish stew and others.

It's the 31st July and my last day in Australia. Once again it feels like a contradiction. I have many memories here from Perth and the west coast through the south and Melbourne and up the sunshine coast to tropical Cairnes. Now two months on I'm moving on again and looking forward to the legendary scenery of NZ. Three hours of flying and a two hour time difference lands you in Christchurch the largest City on the south island of New Zealand. As we approach the airport and descend from 39000 feet the snow topped mountains of the Southern Alps are lit up in their glory with unparalleled views from the right side of this 737 300. There is not a soul to see on the mountains nor in the valleys, no roads, no people, no cars, no animals, just the cold untouched nature of these brown and black mountains that form the spine of the island. Christchurch is where the first English settlers set up camp 160 years ago, arriving at Lyttleton 12km from the City and making the hard journey over the mountain that curves around the bay until they came upon the indigenous settlements of the Maori. Today Christchurch is described as the most English city outside England. The English architecture of Christchurch Cathedral in City Square is surrounded by familiar street names, Hereford, Worcester, Gloucester and many more. Even the river, the Avon, carries tourists up and down its quiet, shallow waters though the City centre on pole pushed punts. It is obviously a lot quieter here than Sydney. It's only when you leave New South Wales you realise the massive number of people choosing to live and work there, the majority it would seem of non Australian origin.

The following day Im back aboad a bus, another bus in the long line of buses that have carried me from Wathamstow to Wup Wup. This time it's Magic Bus one of several that ferry independent travellers around the prime sites of New Zealand. The facts that give you context in New Zealand are that this country is the same size as Britain but has a total population of less than 5 million people, that's 2 million less than the population of London spread out all over the UK. The result is that there is lots of space for everyone, in fact hundreds of miles of untouched pasture, coastline and rolling hills. This gives the country a lovely sense of calm and wellbeing which permeates through the people. Even the town and cities are calm, not clogged with stressed drivers like so many parts of my own country.

First stop out of Christchurch is Kaikoura, famous for its seafood, particularly crayfish, and whale watching as the seas here are full of tasty treats for whales apparently. The weather is poor today, grey and overcast but still the scenery is spectacular as I have not seen before a line of snow covered mountains butting right up to the ocean's edge.

Despite the cloud and falling rain it's a wonderful sight. The next morning the rain has passed and the landscape is in full sunshine. The view from the hostel kitchen is spectacular, a thirty-mile ridge of snowed mountains glittering pink topped against the deep green of the cold sea water below. This is one of those unique New Zealand landscapes that makes this place such a haven for walkers from around the world. It was worth a day and a night here just for that view. The bus pulls out at 8.35am and we are on our way through the Malborough district to Picton where the ferry departs from the south to the north island. Picton is a pretty little town at the apex of Malborough Sound, one of the numerous island inlets around the coast of nz. The Sound is a natural harbour, a strip of waterway bordered by green coated mountains on either side shielding the boats from the open sea. The ferry journey across to Wellington take three slow hours but as the sun sets we pull into the capital city, best known for its museums, cable car and proximity to film sets from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Wellington sits on a long sweeping bay, again sheltered by mountains, with a commercial port on one side and pleasure boat marina on the other. It's the largest city in New Zealand and full of backpackers, city workers in suits and coffee bars. The city is laid back, cultured and full of music, art and literature as well as being home to Te Papa the national museum of nz, regarded by the islanders as a national treasure. Like Australia there is an undertow here of colonialism, a displacement of the indigenous Maori peoples by the western arrivals and you are most likely to see the Maoris in low skilled, low paid jobs. There is still a lot of politics around the ownership of land. I hear that the Government made concessions to give publicly owned land back to the Maori as compensation for the land they bought for a pittance when the Europeans first set foot here. It seems to take the edge off the feeling of injustice but it's evidently not enough.

Wellington is known as the windy City and windy it certainly is, due to its position on the southern tip of north island where the winds from the ocean shoot through the gap between south and north islands. For three days while I'm here the gales howl ferociously off the bay and the window of my 6th floor room overlooking the harbour rattles through the night. With one strong gust I fear it will be pulled out of the frame like a tooth extraction. Up a winding road from Oriental Bay past quaint timber cottages set into the hillsides you will find Mount Victoria lookout with its panoramic views of the central city district on one side and south island in the distance to the other. Wellington is the capital of New Zealand but is much smaller than Auckland the only other metropolis. The locals tell me that Wellington is the much nicer of the two with its compact geography and reputation for fine arts and café culture. Auckland apparently sprawls in every direction for miles but I can only judge that in a few days when I arrive there. Wellington is also home to the famous museum of New Zealand, the Te Papa that tells the stories of Maori traditions and how the first European settlers travelled the perilous journey through storms and sickness to the brave new world. It's a highly interactive museum and great for children. Elsewhere in Wellington, everything is within easy walking distance, the waterfront, the theatres, the cable car to the top of Mount Victoria. It's another clean, safe feeling place in the southern hemisphere although the weather is obviously different from Australia and much more reminiscent of autumnal England. On the advice of locals I aim to make a fairly brisk tour of the north island and spend longer in the more scenic south. The first stop once out of the capital is Napier a pretty seaside town with a reputation for art deco architecture. One half day and night here is enough to appreciate the classic buildings which were built after the great earthquake here in 1931 laid everything to the ground. Every February people come from all over the world for a festival of art deco and the locals dress up in period wear while motor enthusiasts drive their 1930's vintage cars through the streets.

It's another wet morning and the bus ploughs over mountains, through gorges, past forests of cultivates pines and past acres of empty vine rails, the new and popular alternative to beef and lamb farming. This is rugged country, mountainous with vast underground lakes and hills smashed together by the shift of tectonic plates. The land is green, the water blue, the sheep white and the air clear. The towns that interrupt the endless miles of countryside are quaint enough and typical of the region but with their grid pattern formation and landscaped roads you appreciate the attraction of my own British heritage. These places are a little like the UK new towns of Telford or Milford Keynes, they do everything asked of them but they are a little soulless and lack the dated charm of age, the beauty of wear and eccentric lack of uniform structure like Chester or Canterbury.

The day rolls on through Lake Taupo and Rotarua toward Mount Maunganui at the top of the north island in the Bay of Plenty and our destination for this Tuesday night. It's still early days in New Zealand but this is undoubtedly a place of outstanding natural beauty with a placid pace of lifestyle, a haven for outdoor pursuits and a people who are not only very friendly but also want to keep the secret of their happiness here a little quiet, in case too many want a part of it..



 I stayed at the YHA at Noosa. Conclusion excellent.

 I stayed at the YHA Airlie. Conclusion. Very good

 I stayed at the YHA in Cairnes. Conclusion excellent.

 I skydived with jumpthebeach.com in Cairnes. A 14000 ft dive will cost you 320 dollars. Much cheaper than the UK.

 An unlimited bus pass for 7 days around central Sydney will cost you 31 dollars. Get it from newsagents.

 I stayed at the Glebe Point YHA again in Sydney. Conclusion very good.

 New Zealand - Public bus from Christchurch airport to City Square is 7 dollars one way.

 I suggest you pen down some simple recipes in your notebook before you leave. Chicken Fricassee, fry an onion and chopped bacon then add diced chicken breast. Once browned add some chicken stock and reduce for a couple of minutes. Add mushrooms, wholegrain mustard and parsley. Mix a little cornflour with cold water and add and stir to heat. Serve.

 I stayed at the YHA Wellington. Conclusion excellent.

 I stayed at the YHA Napier. Conclusion very good.