King in the North!

Toronto – from what I saw of it was a pretty amazing place. While I am loath to compare places, it had a very Melbourne-esque vibe (right down to the trams aka streetcars) that was hard to deny. I’m looking forward to exploring it some more later this week.

However, I’ve already moved on, catching a rather unexciting yet somehow infuriating Greyhound from Toronto to Niagara Falls.  I’ll come back to that, because I first must mention how weird it is to be in a place yet not have really seen it yet.  The same happened with my first night in Toronto.  I arrived around 9pm, cleared Immigration and Customs and spent the next hour and a half navigating public transport.  I found the Bus to get me to the Subway and the Subway to get me to the Downtown and the Footpath to get me to the Hostel.  It was late, I wasn’t really sure what time my body thought it was but I think I’d eaten breakfast (I’m just not sure in which timezone).  It’s weird to be at a hostel/sleeping the night away when you have a very limited view of what is around you.  Exhausted and malnourished, rather than fall asleep I did the next logical thing.  I went for a walk.  The streets were dark but I felt remarkably safe, the night was mild and there were plenty of people coming and going and it was great to see the buildings lit up better than the footpath in the night.

The infuriating Greyhound came after a day of planning and exploring.  With no apparent accommodation available (in my price range) in the entire city, the obvious course of action appeared to be to fast-forward my plans to go and visit the Killer and the Rorminator in upstate New York.  Only, I hadn’t been able to raise either by email, I have no mobile phone number and it wouldn’t do me any good anyway, as I don’t have a number to call them on.  Saturday morning, isn’t always the best time to be making plans as both myself and other move very slowly.  I decided to go ahead and head to Niagara regardless, and hope things picked up, within moments of making that decision, Killer & Evan both came online and it seemed like this plan was going to fit into everyone’s schedules. 

With a much more solid 24 hour plan in place, i.e. accommodation, a bus timetable and a generally framed destination/timeline for getting there I went to visit the Steam Whistle Brewery.  They ‘do one thing and do it well’ allegedly, and I would find it difficult to disagree.  The tour was good fun, and they appear to be a very green (in both senses of the word) company.  Their recycling and power usage stories are quite fascinating and their reasons for having a single type of beer (a Pilsner) quite logical, at least the way they were presented on the tour.  They buy their heating from “Bullfrog” which apparently means that it’s clean, and get their cooling from Deep Lake water.  There are piped going below the surface of Lake Ontario that apparently provide incredible cooling powers, meaning no air-conditioning is required in the building/brewing process.

I followed that up with a visit to the Baseball Park, where I could admire the gigantic CN tower and the Roundhouse Park – a decommissioned roundhouse using for services steam engine trains, Thomas the Tank Engine-style.

The bus was infuriating because the driver seemed to have no appreciation of the need for a customer to know when he would arrive at his destination.  Constant demands were made of him as to where we had just stopped and how long to the next destination (at least if he wasn’t going to mention where it was).  He reacted quite negatively to this – odd, when all he needed to do was announce over the speaker and everyone would have left him alone. 

Regardless, I made it to Niagara Falls and once again put in a solid effort in finding the hostel, settling in, and then realizing that I really could be anywhere, and if I truly was in Niagara Falls, then I should surely be able to hear or see something to prove it.  Marching out without a map, in the wrong direction after ignoring advice from a Frenchman to turn right and then right again, I got a bit lost.  As we know, I find backtracking to be a tiresome exercise, so I pressed on.  I listened to the river rage below, and rage it did.  50-100m below me you could just work out the speeding white rapids.  I wandered cluelessly through neighbourhoods, following the bright lights to what I assumed to be downtown.  The lights actually represented the tourist district, and I never made it there, or downtown, but sort of slipped right in between them both.  I felt better though, having a general idea of the lay of the land.  And that brinigs me to here, needless to say, I’m off to see the Falls, before I get on with more planning and more randomly self-infuriating adventures!!!

Tiny Little Airport

Backdated entry: 25 April, 2001

 

I was stinking hot, sweat everywhere.  I met some very enthusiastic AYADs on the plane and was reminded of my own enthusiasm and excitement the day I flew to Kathmandu.

 

Blown away by the countryside I had just flown over,  It seemed to me to be untouched forests and hills as far as the eye can see.  The plane did a remarkable fly over of the Henderson Airport, and a loop around the bay and over the town before coming to a noticeably smooth landing.  It’s hard to believe that 60 years ago the Japanese and Americans fought a bloody war over control of this funny island called Guadalcanal, just to keep control over an airstrip still smaller than Avalon.  There I was, wandering across it, sweat beading down my back, passing a grumpy and surly-looking Australian Federal Police officer, standing in the sun waiting for the single Immigration officer to stamp my passport.  Hoping my bag had made it.

 

So there she was. Waiting for me with a coconut in hand.  Together we struggled to remember the last time that we’d seen each other.  A little too long I fear.  Deciding not to split hairs over whether it was 3 or 4 years, Loz and I threw my bag in the back of the car and headed down the single strip that makes for the main drag of Honiara, Solomon Islands.

 

As Lauren complained about how crazy the drivers could be, and how frustrating the traffic sometimes was, I was blown away by the lack of horns, the people calmly waiting for you to pass before crossing the street.  Even the people sitting on the tray of the passing truck seemed to do it passively.  The street were relatively clean and the fresh sea air was blowing in through my window.  I think I might just have arrived in holiday heaven.

 

Baby Turtles and a New Experience

I am in the most remote place I have ever been in my life. And I'd like to think that's saying something.

And I saw a baby turtle.

And about 15 turtle nests.

I hope you're jealous.

Nothing Happens in Airports

As I sit at Brisbane International Airport I am reminded ever again that I hate waiting in airports. I love the takeoff, in-flight entertainment and even the food. But I hate waiting in airports. You can't sleep, everyone else is on edge and you have to queue for everything - except when you are sitting waiting for something exciting to happen.

Other people seem to get incredibly excited about duty free shopping. I can barely see the appeal. Two litres of alcohol hardly seems worth getting excited about, especially when it feels like one is only saving about 5 bucks. Having said that I did pick up a nice schmancy Jameson which I intend to enjoy post-Hello Sunday Morning on my return (it'll be waiting for me at the airport - as a replacement for that cute puppy that I'll never own while living in inner-city Melbourne).

Besides the heart attack that I received when the checkin lady told me my flight comes back in at 5.30pm in 2 weeks (when my Melbourne flight leaves at 6.30pm) the day has been remarkably unproblematic. And it turned out that she was lying.

The shops before Customs had no appeal and security was a breeze. Being a 20-something male travelling alone with a copy of "The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse" falling out of my bag as I cleared security, I was naturally selected for a standard bomb-check. In Brisbane this apparently also requires the additional step of a pat-down (behind a screen with a female observer) - much more involved that the recent bomb screen check I got at Sydney airport as a 20-something in coat and tie. I put this down to hiking boots, a hill-billy hat (that for 5 years I have wanted to take abroad with me), mismatching t-shirt and shorts, 3 days of Easter weekend styled beard growth and a general laissez-faire demeanour. That or heightened security in an airport where literally NOTHING is happening.

Tried an uber-strong large soy caramel latte just to distract me from the fact that there's no iPads, tablets, phones, external hard drives, bluetooth headphones or PSP games (or anything else that I might be tempted to buy) in the duty free shops. The most exciting thing I could find in the shop (and that only got me excited for the 5 seconds it took to pick them up; which on review might have just been the uber-super-strong-soy-latte-that-didn't-have-caramel-but-was-probably-just-as-well) was the bucket-ton of TimTams that I believe should be an obligatory present when visiting any Australian abroad (Loz - you're in luck!). Luckily I have trained my mother well on this topic and she now knows no Black and Gold chocolate biscuit can replace a real TimTam.

In fact, things were so bad that I knocked out a Change Control form that I needed to do for work but hadn't found time before I left. Took 5 seconds and burns in that way that you know you should have done it 2 weeks ago kind of way. Sent it and know I will be rebuked for working while on holiday. Too bad so sad. From the moment I post this blog, the mobile and laptop will be switched off and no work emails will be reviewed.

Beaches, sun and WWII paraphenalia. Yes please.

Dash Goes Solo...

Target locked and acquired.  The next adventure is a trip out to see Lauren in her newfound home - the Solomon Islands.  

I really can't wait. It's been an insane 4 months since Christmas.  Work being its own man-made disaster, but with the Queensland and Vic floods, the earthquakes and mudslides and cyclones, it's all just been a little bit too serious.

Time to chill out to some Pacific time. Some beaches, some volcanoes, some snorkelling and some all around goodness.  Let's just keep the malaria at bay.

Linguistic adventures, cultural faux-pas'!  HERE I COME!!!

Regrowth in Marysville

I was up and packed far earlier than normal and on the road for our shortest day. I have put this down -mainly- to the significant lack of rainfall the day before. A truely remarkable and smile inducing 0mm! Although this happy circumstance was met with the appearance of someting else..dew. Nevertheless, with dry clothes and a lighter bag it was much easier to get myself together.

I also made breakfast a light affair, given the minute (49km) distance to cover for the day. The turnaround in my psyche is amazing. I used to consider a 60km event an arduous challenge and now I am looking forward to the 3 peaks challenge in March (>200 km in a day over 3 mountains).

The ride today was tres enjoyable. i was out before most of the schools -a nice change- and was trying to perfect my skills riding as part of a pack. Alas, each time it was my turn to lead I accidentally left the others behind. I need to work on some consistency and lose the 'chase and overtake, chase and overtake' mentality.

It was incredible to see the seedlings (or new branches, not sure which) of the old burn out gums regrowing after Black Saturday. Unfortunately my camera battery died about 4 days ago and my phone isn't good enough to get right up close to show you what I am talking about. But the new growth has wrapped itself up around the burnt out trees, in most cases all the way to the top, and it is amazing to see the bush regrowing faster than the community inside it.

It would have been terrifying to have been there at the time, worse than terrifying actually. Ranges on all sides ablaze with nowhere for you to go and flames moving faster than cars.

Riding across the finish line was a massive rush of adrenaline. The town turned out to cheer us through and the realisation that I had actually done it. You realise why my 4999 co-riders do it year in, year out. To set yourself a goal and achieve it. After 8 days of butt busting hills, unforgiving descents, rain, mud, people tripping over your tent in the middle of thhe night. To cross that line and know you have beaten your mind, and what you previously thought to be the limitations of your own body, it's too good for words. I did have about a 20 minute long period where all I could think was 'Now What Should I Do??' with my legs ready to carry me at least another 30 or 40k!

So the question is...what next???

It's the rest day!

Wow, exhausted! It's the rest day and I'm finding it very hard to get moving this morning. Lying on my new blowup mattress is just so incredibly comfortable and seems to cause my legs no pain.

Actually, the legs actually haven't been complaining for the last two days. Admittedly there's been a lot of flat, but that will change tomorrow were not only do we have a new killer hill but we have to do more than 100k's!

Today i am just taking it easy, doing some maintenance and maybe some canoeing. 2 days ago, just as I was contemplating all the bike breakdowns on the side of the road and why it had not yet happened to me a spoke on the back wheel went CLANG! I should never have thought the thought. A great guy named Peter got me back on the road by compensating with the other spokes. It was all fixed up that evening by the mechanics but last night on my way into town the same thing happened on my front wheel! Argh!

So today will be fixing that and moving slowly...for a change.