A frog and a lobster en grandes vacances

Regular readers - after first congratulating themselves on having stuck with us this far - will recall that the last update was promised from Malaysia. That we have reached Cambodia, having covered Singapore and Thailand in between, probably tells you this piece is a little overdue, so snappier than an angry crocodile, here's the news:

The 12 hour minibus journey to Jogja had dented our enthusiasm for long-distances buses through Java so we opted for a flight to Medan in northern Sumatra instead. Medan, smog-ridden and filthy, held no real appeal however, so we passed straight through to the jungle village of Bukit Lawang, home of the once infamous orang-utan sanctuary. We might have been forgiven for thinking we'd found the apes prematurely when an aggresive van-driving cartel started clawing at our bags, but either our no-nonsense approach or, perhaps an absence of bananas inside put an end to that and we were soon on our way.

Bukit Lawang, like most of northern Sumatra, has had its fair share of misfortune and the tourism that once flourished here has larely disappeared. Whether that decline is the result of recent terrorism in Bali (and elsewhere), the threat of Aceh insurgency in the north or an improbable string of natural disasters, which washed half of the village away, is unclear, but the locals here, more than anywhere else in Indonesia maintain a real passion for tourism and an unrivalled enthusiasm for what they do. What could have been a half-hearted jungle trek was transformed into an unforgettable experience by our indefatigable guide Amar who, leading us through gorges and muddy ravines, located not one, but fifteen 'Jungle People' (literally orang utan in Indonesian) over two days. As we floated back down the river from our open air jungle camp the next day we reflected on an unbelievable experience, which one day will have the tourists returning in droves. Singing jungle songs to the tune of 'Jingle bells' should remain an optional extra however!

After Bukit Lawang, it was on to Berastagi, a mountain town that has also seen busier days, but which provided another volcano to climb and, thankfully, hot springs in which to soothe our aching muscles. We finished our Indonesian leg on the 'island' of Samosir, a landmass the size of Singapore in the middle of Lake Toba, the world's largest (and deepest) crater lake. Again, the island is geared up for a level of tourism that no longer exists and so we had full use of first class facilities at bargain-basement prices.

A subsequent ferry across the (allegedly pirate-occupied) Melacca straits was untroubling except for the horrendous weather (which rendered a number of locals violently ill) and before we knew it we were in Malaysia. A series of doctors with thermometers confirmed we were swine flu-free (although Jess remained to be convinced given my deeply insipid look) and we made our way to Georgetown, a colonial city on Malaysia's west coast. The contrast with Medan was incredible, to the extent that we happily strolled in the pouring rain just to enjoy the cleanliness and quiet of the streets, and the food was incredible. Whilst the sights were interesting, it was the food in Little India and China that really interested us and we were sad to have to leave after two days.

We moved on though, this time to the Cameron Highlands. The colonial influence is more evident here than anywhere, with tea plantations where there was once wild jungle and tea and scones where there would usually be roti canai. The scones fuelled a couple of days walking, hilltribe visiting and plantation wandering before we headed to the hectic capital of Kuala Lumpur. KL was choked by comparison, a shrine to consumerism with the Petronas and KL Towers interspersed with the ubiquitous shopping malls, some with their own roller coasters!! To escape the mayhem Jess and I sought out the 33rd floor of the Traders hotel and sipped cocktails as the sun set on the Petronas Towers.

Jess loved our experience on the Singapore sleeper train, although I think I would have stolen more shut-eye if i'd opted for a seat on the roof. Fortunately, recent arrival Elodie (now representing the Australian government here) came to the rescue again and we caught up on the sleep deficit at her city-centre apartment. After exploring China Town and feasting on dim sum, we met up with 'her excellency' and had our first trip in the diplomatic car (a Holden of course) en route to the 'Singapore Flyer'. Apparently some early teething problems had now been put to rest and the wheel span the right way enabling fantastic views across the island. Singapore has grasped firmly the idea that the only way out of recession is to spend, spend, spend, a duck tour highlighting the full extent of development on what land can be spared. A huge casino complex, an enormous bridge based on the DNA structure and even a scheme to convert the sea water in Singapore bay to a fresh water reservoir, are underway. No-one seems to worry about the implications despite the fact that 20% of existing development is on reclaimed land bought from Malaysia and the majority of drinking water is already piped in from there too. Not that we didn't delight in the attractions on offer, a visit to the night safari and a face-to-face meeting with tigers and elephants being the highlight.

The offer of a raclette in a nearby restaurant proved too much for two French women to resist so we spent our last night tucking into the much missed French cheese before heading to Pulau Tioman, a stunning island on the east coast of Malaysia. Yet another jungle trek across the middle of the island led us to Juara bay, the most spectacular stretch of white sand since Whitehaven and an idyllic spot to loaf for a few hours. It was soon back inland though, this time to the world's oldest rainforest, Taman Negara.

We arrived smack in the middle of a public holiday and after much pleading and no shortage of desperation managed to secure a shared room with a couple of friendly French girls for the night. We slept brilliantly and were well rested for a long trek in the jungle. Provided with a clear map, we decided that a guide was surplus to requirements and set off excitedly in search of elephants. However, some five hours into the dense vegetation, without having seen a soul in hours, we found ourselves vainly searching for a path. Looking left and right and seeing nothing but trees, Jess and I took to developing a back-up plan. No sooner had we resigned ourselves to a diet of ants and wild mangoes than we fortuitously picked up the path and two hours and one leech-infested river crossing later we arrived at our destination, just 30 minutes late for our boat. The calm waters and our sense of relief (plus a monitor lizard sighting) made our longboat trip back to town as rewarding a journey as I can remember.

Relaxation was needed and we found it in buckets on the glorious Perhentian Islands. Again the public holidays had conspired against us and we were expecting to sleep on the beach just as one last search yielded a bed for the night. In the end we stayed a few days on the island's stunning beaches including a fantastic snorkelling trip that took in not just turtles, but (finally) incredible black-tipped reef sharks.

The island paradises continued thereafter. An overland crossing into Thailand took us straight to the Krabi region where we had the opportunity to sea kayak amongst beautiful mangroves complete with resident cheeky monkeys and gravity-defying rock formations and a short trip on a long tail boat took us to Railay, where we hit the low-season slump and so took advantage of the quiet to rock climb on the incredible limestone cliffs and kick back on picture-postcard beaches.

To be continued......

After dumping our bags in a ramshackle losmen in the tiny village of Senaru, north Lombok, Jess and I strode up the hill in search of some mosquito repellant. Stopping at the first of a series of hut-like shops, we waited a while eventually spotting a chap hovering in the back of the shop and sporting a replica Socceroos shirt with 'Viduka' emblazoned across the back. We're it not for the dark skin and decidely slimmer look, I would have sworn it was the big man himself, so slow and deliberate were his movements and so ineffective his delivery. Needless to say we went away empty handed, but a predictable "Ingrris - you know David Beckham" conversation ensued and we listened as 'Mark' bemoaned the state of Indonesian football.

Afterwards, I couldn't help wondering if there had ever been a famous Indonesian footballer and, of course, there hasn't. But I had too much thinking time to stop there and so started to compile a list of footballers who might, through name alone, be considered for selection by an Indonesian invitational team. Surely there's been a famous Jack Carter for example, or perhaps an Archie Pelago? I rejected Didier Jogja, I deem Sol Awesi too tenuos and Den Passer is just too unlikely. Matt Oram seems believable though desn't it? I'd be grateful for further input, but in the meantime here's the latest news.

Our last post came from Cairns where we had successfully completed the sale of our van ahead of a move to Darwin. In Darwin, we hired a car and headed for the stuning Lichfield National Park, putting our tent to one last use before selling that too. Almost as soon as we'd landed, though, we were back at the airport, this time bound for Denpasar. We had the usual discussion about what to put in the 'employment' section of our visa applications, fearing a 'none' might put us into the political asylum queue, but knowing that 'bank manager' is both presently inaccurate and far too Captain Mainwaring. 'Backpacker', apparently, is not a profession.

In Bali, we stayed the first night in Kuta - where seemingly we were the only people not sporting 'Bintang' singlets - before moving on to Sanur, a quieter resort on the south west coast and later Ubud, Bali's cultural capital. Our homestay turned out to be an incredibly ornate temple-like building decorated, as all Balinese buildings are, with countless offerings to the numerous Hindu deities. I think the smell drifting about the place was incense, but it may have been altogether stronger since our host was so friendly that he promptly issued us with an invite to his forthcoming wedding. After a walk out of town and into the surrounding paddy fields, we arranged to hire a scooter for the next two days.

It took a while to get acquainted with Balinese road etiquette, but we were soon on our way and headed north taking in the stunning Danau (lake) Batur and the imposing Besakih temples. In Bali, temples are everywhere so
I had a couple of digs in the back from my co-pilot whenever my rubber-necking was too prolonged and the scooter drifted off into the middle of the road. Jess must have been feeling more confident though, since she opted to film the stunning vistas from Jatiluwih as we drove along.

Our schedule here is tight so we were on to Lombok the next day, boarding an aged ferry, several minibuses and, eventually, a fishing boat to reach paradisiac Gili Trawangan. We didn't have time for me to learn to dive, but I had my first effort in the pool, before Jess headed out to the reef for a spot of scuba and I headed off solo with a snorkel. An hour later, the boat found me drifting off towards another island, a little concerning, but the fish were as spectacular as ever. We moved on to Lombok a couple of days later, but not before four hours of difficult 'negotiation' with a tour agent who had mis-sold us a climb to the summit of active Gunung Rinjani. We exchanged some curt words over the phone and after a misguided threat of police intervention by our adversary, took a transfer to his offices to seek a refund. In the end we succeeded in getting some money back and had to settle for a revised trekking package that took us up to the crater rim for an overnight camp.

Gladly, the trek up to the rim passed without incident (although it was bloody tiring) and we spent a memorable night camped out overlooking the crater lake, with deep red, molten lava streaming down the side of the moutain and the groan of eruptions ringing in our ears all night. Jess kept her calm admirably for the descent, despite witnessing a deadly snake, and a 6-hour minibus ride later we were on the south coast in the quiet village of Kuta, a world apart from its Balinese namesake. We were tired and looking forward to a good night's rest just as Jess decided to pick a fight with a scorpion in the shower. The scorpion died, but it would be unfair to declare Jess the winner as she spent the night in agony whilst, not the doctor, but the hotel's security guard tended to her wounds.

She had made a recovery of sorts by the next day, so we were back on scooters to explore the incredible beaches around Kuta and dip in the surf. We spent a couple of days relaxing before a long trip to Java and another volcano. Tough bargaining has become a feature of Indonesia, and we were at our most tenacious for the ride up to Cemoro Lawang, where a pre-sunrise (albeit much quicker) climb to the crater rim proceeded fantastic views across the Bromo mountain range. As seems to be the way, we attracted a hoard of young Indonesian students on the way up and spent the descent posing in countless pictures, which I feel confident are already adorning the mantelpiece of many a Javanese home.

An excruciating 12-hour minibus ride brought us to the city of Yogyakarta ('Jogja'), Java's historical centre, where we have busied ourselves visiting the awesome temples of Prambanan and Borobudur. Not content to take a costly package trip to the former (a 9th century, UNESCO listed Hindu temple), we hired bicycles and rode an 18km route along the canal instead. The owner had guesstimated the bikes at 35 years old, but I think you could comfortably add a '0' to the end of that and be nearer the right age. Unsurprisingly, we both had delicate derrieres the next day and so took a bus to spectacular Borobudur (the world's biggest buddhist temple - from the 8th century) for sunrise the next day. After a good slice of culture here, its on to Medan (Sumatra) tomorrow for a visit to Lake Toba and, hopefully, a trekking encounter with wild Orang-utans.

The next update, I hope, will be from Malaysia.

Lots of love.

Mike and Jess

After finishing my dinner last night with the words, "that was a good feed, ey?", I've decided that the time has come to move on from Australia. And so, as scheduled, we fly tonight to Darwin and in three days on to Indonesia. After an unceremonious return to a backpackers' hostel last night, here is the latest update.

Having added several kilograms gorging ourselves chez Mel and Chris, we left Brisbane on Jess' birthday, but not before Chris and I had run through a full fire drill in the back garden to ensure that all was in order. It was, so Jess and I packed up and headed north to Noosa to celebrate her birthday. We stopped en route to see Lynda and Alec (her son) who, despite being shattered after a weekend camping trip, had still found time to bake Jess her second, delicious cake of the day. All the more remarkable given the absence of eggs!! If we weren't already stuffed, a slap-up birthday meal in Noosa was sufficient to finish us off and we rolled back to the van for a good night's sleep.

Our tight schedule didn't allow for long in Noosa, so with the birthday-bunting still hanging in the van we were back on the road after a morning swim. Regrettably, the van was clearly working to a different schedule and opted to take a rather longer rest, pausing unceremoniously at the side of the Bruce Highway, 15 miles north of Cooroy. Without road cover and surrounded by nothing but fields, panic had begun to set in just as a chap pulled over to offer some assistance. He kindly volunteered to drive me back to a garage in Cooroy, whilst I advised Jess to lock herself in the van and wait for my return. It hadn't occurred to me at that point that the keys were in my pocket and so Jess was left stranded on the freeway just as night began to fall. The garage had, by now, closed and so I set off back to the van to arrange a tow, and await an ear-bashing. Instead, Jess had disappeared, so after a few moments of blind panic I was only half-relieved to find a note from Jess saying she was at 'a lady's house' and 'would be back soon'!

Shortly after, a chap appeared in his 'ute' and began offering a hand under the bonnet. It was only after five minutes spent diagnosing a broken timing belt that he let me in on the news that Jess was at his house drinking tea with his wife Judith. Reassured, I helped fix the tow rope to the front of the van ahead of a hairy ride along steep dirt roads back to his house. John and Judith proceeded to cook us dinner, provide us with a bed for the night and tow us the next morning to a garage, where some costly repairs later, we were on our way north. I had heard Kate Adie banging on about the kindness of strangers before, but had never experienced it so emphatically as we did that night.

With 'Schtroumpfette' (the van's new nickname) bandaged up, we made our way to Hervey Bay for a trip across to Fraser Island. Having hastily hired a mini 4x4 Suzuki we boarded our ferry the next morning and, drove straight on to the sand for some serious off-roading. We spent an incredible two days there, traversing everything from dense forest to watery creek, finding time to dip in pristine lakes and camp on sand dunes overlooking the beach in between. What should have been a perfect night's sleep on a secluded beach-side spot, was interrupted somewhat by the emergence of a wandering dingo sniffing its way towards our hastily-prepared spaghetti bolognese. Jess spent the majority of the night on patrol, grasping for the torch and kitchen-knife at regular intervals. Thankfully, I drew the line at the suggestion of an army-style shift system that night and grabbed a couple of hours sleep in amongst the flashes.

Having survived that encounter, we moved on to the Whitsundays with the intention of booking a sailing trip around the stunning islands. We spent an entire day trawling through brochures and haggling with agents, before settling on an incredible, if pricey, 'sail and fly' package which incorporated a helicopter flight back to the mainland. Our luck, although perhaps not our van, had turned a corner and after a shopkeeper's oversight akin to Monopoly's 'bank error in our favour', received a significant discount for the two day cruise. In the event, we would have happily paid twice the amount as we spent our days sailing from inlet to inlet, snorkelling over reef and striding across beautiful beaches, including stunning Whitehaven. The 'chopper' flight was amongst the absolute highlights of this trip and rounded off a great time fantastically. To follow that, we headed to Alva Beach where Jess donned her BCD once more for a dive around the Yongala, a shipwreck 25m below the surface and home to a plethora of sea-life from sea snakes to sting rays and giant turtles to gropers. What a great birthday present I hear you say!

It was time to move on to Townsville, Jess' home away from home, where we were looked after like kings by the Mansbridge clan. In living such splendour I did wonder if we might be eating food ear-marked for Zeus, their new Alsatian puppy, since he seemed determined to make up for the shortfall by taking meat directly from my ankles. As it turned out, this was a regular habit. We joined Den and Janelle (amongst others) at a 25th Anniversary dinner for the local rotary club the first night, with news having clearly spread to the papers that we were in town. As seems to be the way whenever Jess is in town, we appeared a couple of days later in the pages of the Townsville Bulletin, looking like a third division footballer and his WAG!

We had a busy social calendar to fulfill in our two weeks in Townsville and I was growing to far prefer the luxurious treatment to life in the van. A lunch with Trina, Pat and Jess' former schoolmates, was followed by an introduction to Russell, Sally, Jackson and brand new baby Mahalia as well as a memorable trip to the Billabong Sanctuary. Jess went AWOL for the second time in recent history, but this time only briefly as Russ, Jack and I held baby crocs and a five-foot snake around our necks. Still recovering, Jess and I caught up with (Brisbane) Chris and Tim for a trip over to Magnetic Island (so-called because of alleged intereference with Cook's compass) just across the water from Townsville. We had a great, and largely tourist-free time, kayaking and walking around the island, stopping only to sleep and cheer on (or in Tim's case kiss) cane toads at the famous Maggy toad races.

Back on terra firma, Janelle, Den, Bronny and Jay treated us to an unforgettable meal at Michel's restaurant, rounded off by a Bombe Alaska, the lion's share of which seemed miraculously to have appeared on my plate. Unsurprisingly we were good for not a lot the next day and so spent it preparing the van for sale, taking artistic photos to be later posted on the web. A day of respite proved useful as we were up early the next day, taking to the waters round 'Maggy' in Russ' boat. I was slightly confused, perhaps with the early start, that Russ had chosen to call his boat 'Rod Bender', but it turned out to be a reference to fishing, a favoured pastime. We had a great day tubing and fishing, then headed back to shore for another slap-up meal, this time hosted by the Gibney's. Everyone was delighted to see Jess again after ten years, with the exception perhaps of Meeghan's daughter Emy, to whom Jessica was simply the name of her doll and not some strange French woman.

We headed out on the tiles that night for a reunion with Jess' old school friends. A combination of home-buying, and new babies amongst the group ensured that 'hitting the tiles' has an altogether more mundane meaning, and we were back home at the reasonably sensible time of 12pm. That suited me quite nicely, since Jess and I were back up at 5.30am the next day so that I could join a host of other idiots in the annual 'King of the Castle' race, a 'fun run' that takes in the ridiculously steep Castle Hill overlooking the town and which left me sore for days after. Fortunately, a delicious breakfast prepared by Jay and a lunch with the Armits (or possibly the free-flowing wine) that afternoon aided my recovery! The next morning, Jess (with her unusual Petanque style) and I gave Chris, Tim and Chad a lesson in lawn bowls before a trip around Ryan (Jess' old school), kindly arranged by Janet (Curran). Janet and the Curran clan were our hosts that evening for yet another great meal, with Janet and Sal also providing invaluable guidance for our forthcoming trip to Asia.

Our time in Townsville was (sadly) drawing to a conclusion, but we signed off in true Queensland style, watching the maroons romp to a convincing win in the opening 'State of Origin' match, feasting on delicious home-made pizza and supping on good old Castlemaine XXXX.

And so to Cairns, where our focus was on achieving a quick van sale. Confidence was high on the Friday morning when we arrived, with a pre-arranged viewing going far better than expected and at a somewhat inflated price. Sadly, with the sale hanging in the balance, the news broke that our prospective buyers were unable to drive manual vehicles and the sale fell through. That gave rise to a stressful three days of frantic fly-postering, price-slashing and, occasionally, the odd viewing. Just as we wrorried that a sale might never materialise, we struck gold in the form of an English couple lining up a trip across the outback, who were keen to buy and get moving. A day later, with the cash in our pocket, we were busy booking a cruise out to the Great Barrier reef.

The news of 30 knot wind hadn't deterred us from making the trip and, with motion sickness pills firmly in our bellies we boarded 'Ocean Freedom' to set sail for the reef. Since I had made use of my asthma inhaler within the last six years, I was unable to take the introductiory dive I had been promised, but Jess enjoyed taking my place and I was happy enough seeing incredible marine life with my snorkel and from the glass-bottomed boat. After a great day we set sail for home, but with the high winds making for somewhat tempestuous conditions, much of what had been consumed that day by our fellow passengers was now being gratefully digested by the fish. Thank goodness for motion sickness pills!

On to Darwin now, with updates from Indonesia and the rest of Asia to follow soon.

Love to all as ever.

Mike and Jess

... continued from Tsunami Tsunami...

Once reunited with Renee herself, and encouraged somewhat by Foz (a recent expat), I set about acquiring some tickets to the rugby league and that Sunday took to the (newly reopened) Kogarah oval to see the mighty St George Dragons. It was a healthy crowd, but a slightly drab game so it was a good job that somebody had decided to entertain the crowd with a world record, kazoo-tooting attempt as well. Sadly, the attempt had been pretty ill thought out so when we struck up with 'When the Saints go Marching in' the ground tooted entirely incoherently and tunelessly until the players emerged and we could stop. We were told later that week that Guinness were so underwhelmed by our collective efforts that the original, US record was left unchanged. Fortunately, we had dinner that Sunday evening with a real musician! Emily Pike impressed us all with her Japanese conversational skills, ordering dinner in New Town, and we delighted in hearing about 'Audio Blackmail', her tip-top, ska-pop band (http://www.audioblackmail.com/home.html).

After that, we headed south for a fantastic Melbourne stay with Samara and Blakey and later Elodie. In full sightseeing mood, we spent an age wondering around the MCG, the Rod Laver Arena and the various parks before a trip out to nearby Portsea and ahead of a drive along the Great Ocean Road to see the 12 Apostles and the surrounding national parks. We hadn’t expected to take in the Rip Curl pro-surfing competition at Bells Beach, but managed to stumble across the grand stand and watched a good hour before heading on to the apostles despite Jess’ annoyance that she hadn’t yet seen Kelly Slater. As luck would have it, we stumbled across some Japanese folk snapping happily away by the roadside. Aware of the Japanese photographic reputation, I reluctantly pulled over, but was delighted to see a koala fast asleep in the fork of a gum tree. All thoughts of Kelly Slater were happily forgotten!

Since we had no plane tickets back to Sydney, we decided to drive the 900-odd kms instead and arrived a couple of days later just in time for an Easter trip to Bundeena in the Royal National Park. We joined Renee and Ash on a ferry across to their friends’ (Jacko and Ali) house, and were spoiled by sea views and beautiful sunshine, spending two days swimming, fishing and taking trips in Jacko’s ‘tinny’ boat. That the tinny was over-capacity had escaped the notice of everyone but the marine police who proceeded to dress us down, albeit uncharacteristically forgoing the opportunity to fine us AU$250.

We spent the early part of the next week looking for campervans on the internet and catching up with friends. After lunch with Brent, we caught up with Chris (Pillai) who had agreed to take us to the Ian Thorpe Olympic Centre for a quick swim. As Chris strode knowingly towards the changing rooms, Jess and I were a little underwhelmed by the facilities of a pool, which had hosted the 2000 Olympic games, despite the incredible views of Sydney harbour bridge and the opera house in the background. As it turned out Chris had led us not to the Olympic centre, but to his local baths, which just happened to host an 'olympic sized' swimming pool. The van search meanwhile, had begun to stall, so we put in some calls and arranged a series of viewings in kings cross before a night of high culture with Renee and Ash at the Sydney Opera House.

Jess and I had hoped that our $4k budget would buy something at least roadworthy, but our optimism disappeared on sight of the first van. If our suspicions hadn't been raised by the eagerness of the Spanish vendors to show us their fishing rods and body boards instead of the van, they certainly were when we were flatly refused a test drive. We had already decided against that one by the time the driver turned the ignition key generating a menacing shriek before the engine finally ticked over and the exhaust coughed up a dollop of oil. The next three vans were equally awful and a strange owner was refusing to show us a fifth so our hopes of finding anything were fading, when we received a call from a Dutch couple, who actually drove the van to us and then sold it, fully-equipped for less than our initial budget.

We should have twigged that something wasn't right as we said our goodbyes to Ash, Renee and later Foz and headed for the Blue Mountains. Our first night was a success and we took in the beautiful, if incredibly misty scenery before retreating to Windsor, about an hour north of Sydney. We parked up that night to call home and after excitedly passing on news of our purchase, returned to the van to find a spot for dinner. We were suitably panicked when the van wouldn't start and after quickly exhausting (excuse the pun) our mechanical knowledge, asked a nearby shopkeeper if she knew of a mechanic. She must have liked the look of our van (or possibly its driver?)though, and instead dragged her husband from his Sunday night beers to give us a clutch start (and me a free ice cream). We spent that night on a huge slope with the blood draining from our feet and the next day trying to resolve the problem. A cheap relay (and some frighteningly expensive labour) later and we were back on our way up the coast. When I get back home I might become a mechanic!

After a couple of nights in and around Port Stephens, where we busied ourselves swimming, playing tennis and gorging on seafood (and award-winning pies!), we headed into the Hunter Valley for infamous wine-tastings and beautiful views. I had stupidly volunteered myself as designated driver and therefore missed out on 'champagne' with breakfast at Petersons vineyard, but I steeled myself for an enormous free tasting at Wyndhams where Wendy, our genial host seemed so determined to send us off half-cocked that I suspected she was working undercover for the traffic police. Jess couldn't face a lengthy car journey after all that tasting, so we stayed nearby before moving on to Port Macquarie the next day.

Port Macquarie is a quaint headland town wrapped up in stunning beaches and was the ideal spot for our next stop. The highlight though was a visit to the koala hospital for feeding time, which left Jess and I wanting to join the adoption programme until our guide opted to give us a detailed explanation of 'wet bottom' a highly infectious disease which koalas, in spite of their solitary (and frankly lazy) existence, seem to pass on at will. We left for Diamond Beach the next day (i don't think it was wet bottom-related) and, after a thirty minute drive on a road reminiscent of those last seen in Bolivia, arrived at our camp site. What was already a beautiful campsite on an isolated stretch of coast, was transformed when large kangaroos went bouncing past the van like the opening scenes of 'Australia' (think of me as Hugh Jackman!). The accompanying goannas weren't quite so cute!

We moved inland briefly after a splendid stop in Scotts Head (Fredo pies and all), enjoying the hippie vibe in Bellingen before heading on to Dorrigo for a bushwalk. I couldn't feel my hand for a couple of days afterwards, not as a result of any bites, but from the pressure of Jess squeezing it as we passed snake-like vines and strangler figs en route. That was as much bush as I could handle (get it!) so our next stops were back on the coast in Coffs Harbour and then Lennox Head, a quiet spot just south of Byron Bay. In Byron Bay we just missed our chance to enter the Great Ocean swim, but enjoyed a lengthy dip in the giant waves anyway. We camped (somewhat accidentally) in a rugby ground that night where the manager helpfully pointed out the hot showers. He omitted to tell us that they were in the home dressing room, covered in sweaty kit and infested with cockroaches however. Fortunately all the players had gone home so we didn't have to drink beer out of our shoes or run to the famous lightouse wearing nothing but our gumshields that night!

We crossed into Queensland at Coolangata (joining the Banana benders!) and headed for Surfers Paradise, the hub of the Gold Coast. The Gold Coast is probably best known these days for its theme parks and I managed to convince Jess that we should head to the Wet'n'Wild waterpark the next day. The cloud and rain had seemingly put most people off, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise as we ran between the empty rides like a couple of schoolchildren. Mind you, I was a little concerned when Jess failed to appear at the bottom of the 'Twister' and I'm still not sure how she managed to get stuck to this day. It soon became apparent that we weren't in fact schoolchildren when we felt hideously sick after riding the 'Surfrider' two times in a row and spent the next two hours recovering in the van.

And so to Brisbane, where Mel and Chris (plus Tosca and Chester - their dogs) have played incredible hosts. In fact if Mel ever decides to follow up her promise of opening a B&B i'm sure we'll be the first to visit. But, having eaten like kings we were in need of some exercise and headed out to the Glasshouse Mountains where we all climbed the decidedly tricky Tibrogagan peak, enjoying incredible views before heading back for a proper Aussie barbie. While Chris pretended to work hard, cooking prawns and a huge red snapper, it was Bob and I who did the real hard work, smashing rock-hard Macadamias with a hammer on the ground. At least we had some delicious cold stubbies to keep us entertained!!

Fraser Island, the Whitsundays, Townsville and the Great Barrier Reef await, so expect to see more sharks and fauna in the next update.

Love to all,

Jess and Mike