Tropical Storms and Piracy Warnings

Posted on February 5, 2012 by anna

We went up to the bridge on New Year’s morning to be greeted by a worried health and safety officer, clutching a piracy warning which had just been faxed over. We had now reached East Timor which meant that we were nearing the Singapore and Malacca straits. Over the years, both stretches of water have become synonymous with pirate attacks because they are the main passageways for vessels travelling between India and China – it is thought that 40% of the world’s trade passes through this area. As soon as we heard that we would be travelling down the Malacca strait, we did a bit of research of our own and found assurances from the International Maritime Bureau, that thanks to several neighbouring countries clubbing together to provide sea patrols in the last five years, attacks on cargo ships have been dramatically reduced in recent years. However, they are not yet uncommon, especially for unpiloted barges pulled by tugs, one of which was unfortunately the victim of the hijacking attack which the note described. The health and safety officer passed us a print out before solemnly telling us that this is ‘very dangerous area’, furrowing his brow and looking out to sea with his binoculars. We told him about our findings from the IMB which suggest it is now safer for larger cargo vessels such as the Carelia, but this didn’t seem to calm him so we leaft him to his watch.

Later in the day, Captain Alexey told us that now we had reaached the Timor Sea, the crew would be putting out a ‘sitting pool’ on our deck with a table and chairs so we could relax outside. True to his word, we soon found it brimming with water on the deck and spent the rest of our afternoon outside scanning the waters for pirates (there were none but we did see schools of tuna and porpoises). The next day was pretty much the same (minus the piracy warning) and we sat in the pool drinking smuggled-on wine out of tea cups, prohibition style.

By early evening, we noticed that banks of whipped cloud had formed on the distant horizon. They looked quite beautiful, fluffily connecting sky and sea (I irritatingly got Stairway to Heaven stuck in my head but luckily this wasn’t to last for long)… As the sun began to sink lower, the entire bank started to shimmer and then slowly darken, turning innocent marshmallow-like cloud into a foreboding tower of dark grey. We soon realised that boat was completely surrounded on one side by quickly blackening cloud, so we hastily ended the pool session and ran inside to change. The cabin was by now eerily gloomy, so we headed up to the Bridge for some company. The officer on watch was absorbed in some map reading but we noticed that the industrial style windscreen wipers were out in preparation for something. We cautiously questioned the officer who told us matter-of-factly that we were heading straight into a tropical storm. He did not seem at all phased but I couldn’t help scenes from Joseph Conrad’s Typhoon surfacing in my mind. The waters were eerily still (so I now knew what was meant by ‘the calm before the storm’) and there was nothing to do but watch, wait and, to take my mind off the agonising approach, photograph. The cloud had now become more akin to a curtain and there was a small opening at its base which let through a brief but tantalising window of dusky light. We could also make out a solitary flashing light from a lone fishing boat across the water before the downpour began and it, like us, was swallowed by the engulfing dark. There wasn’t much rocking, or maybe we’d become accustomed to it by then. We managed to sleep through the rest of it, though I couldn’t help thinking about the fishing boat. By morning the skies were clear again and the storm had passed, leaving only a few small pools of water on the roofs of the containers behind.

We took a sunnier dip in the pool that afternoon – no storms on the horizon this time – but someone did come outside to ask us to ensure all doors were locked when we eventually came inside. This was because we had now entered Indonesian waters and pirate attack territory. The pirates apparently hide among the many Indonesian fishing vessels which frequent the waters here both day and night, using them for cover before they make a dash for their target. When there is no full moon, the fishermen switch on large lamps which act as false moons to lure the fish to the surface, but also accidentally lighting the way for pirates. None of these small boats and trawlers have AIS, which ships use to identify each other, so it is therefore difficult for a cargo ship to spot an approaching vessel. On the bridge, the health and safety officer repeats his danger warnings to us but this time adds ‘be very careful in Klang…very dangerous too’, which is where we are due to disembark. We do not know what to make of this.

The next day we pass Java and Sumatra in the distance and sail through the Java and South China Seas, crossing the equator for the second time during our trip. As we begin to near Singapore, there was mounting excitement on the ship. At least three of the crew were due to finish their contracts there and go back to their homes after a few days’ leave in the city. At dinner, one of the younger sailors tells us that ‘the air in Singapore smells different, I go out on deck and take it into my lungs, it smells of freedom. I can almost taste freedom now’. This conversation about freedom switches from English to Russian at the table where we gleam the odd recognisable word (ecstasy, poppers and prostitute), while they smile at us. We were coming up to our 20th day on board and were also more than ready to be back on land. I remember Michael Palin describing his experience at sea as a sort of sensory deprivation but I liken it more to spending time somewhere remote where your surroundings become familiar but your eyes and senses become keener as they are honed to notice even the smallest change, such as a spider on a staircase, a fish skimming the waves or a swallow nesting in a container. Nothing is ever predictable in this world and you therefore never quite get used to it.

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A Rock n’ Roll Christmas (of the non-musical variety)

Posted on February 5, 2012 by anna

Christmas at sea was not part of our original plan. We were supposed to have spent it with our friends in Melbourne, in the sunshine, probably around a barbeque which would perhaps have been on a beach. Sea travel, however, does not care for best laid plans and so we found ourselves on the AS Carelia spending Christmas and New Year with an all-male Bulgarian, Russian and Filipino crew who we barely knew.

The first surprise was that as per Russian tradition, Christmas dinner was scheduled for Christmas Eve rather than the 25th, so at about 7pm we made our way down to the crew’s mess (dining) room, where three tables had been laid out – one for the the deck, mess and engine hands (who were mainly Filipino), one for the rest of the regular crew (mainly Russian) and one for the officers (mainly Bulgarian). Despite being organised for space reasons, this arrangement seemed a little less than Christmassy – we were only just beginning to learn the importance of ranks. These thoughts soon evaporated as a maritime feast of epic proportions was unveiled by the chef and chief steward, who had been toiling away all day behind closed doors. There were roasts of every kind imaginable alongside rice dishes, salads and a big chocolate Christmas party cake. On each table, along with a few bottles of something clear, were plates of what looked like smoked salmon but which the Russians told us is called Somka (smoked fish) and also some horse salami(!) that had been cured by the Captain himself. We were treated very much like guests at a village banquet and felt obliged to try a little bit of everything, under the scrutiny of the Captain who watched while we chewed and swallowed his culinary contributions. At 7.30pm, the Captain read out a Christmas message to the crew from the ship’s owners (the Ahrenkiel group) wishing everyone a safe and happy Christmas. Then the toasting began and did not, it seemed, ever stop. Every time someone got up or sat down at the table, a new toast was offered and after a few hours of eating and drinking, it wasn’t only Alex who was feeling a little worse for wear. As it neared midnight, a few people had left from every table except for the one the Filipinos were seated at. For them, the celebrations had just started, as guitars emerged from cabin rooms and a long session of acoustic karaoke began.

It wasn’t until just after midnight that the real rocking and rolling began and the floor of the ship started to move from side to side. The Captain had warned us that we were headed for some rough waters (due to gale force winds outside) but we hadn’t been prepared for quite how turbulent it would become. We managed to get a little sleep as the cabin creaked and strange metallic noises echoed from the bowels of the ship. By Christmas morning, our cabin was still tilting but we tried to be as festive as possible, opening some chocolates sent from home and a couple of small gifts (our friend Julia had sent us some Christmas decorations and teabags for the morning of Christmas day, which really did transform the cabin). By the evening, however, the paper chains were sliding backwards and forwards across our cabin walls like windscreen wipers and the rolling was getting slowly worse. We attempted to go to bed but were woken in the dark to the sound of the ship’s alarms blaring (which happens when anything needs attention from the engineering team), some increasingly loud creaking and eventually crashing, while everything on any surface in our room tumbled its way ungracefully to the floor. We followed shortly after, as a particularly violent roll flung us out of bed and onto the carpet with a bump. Attempts to share the sofa were futile (and lying down on it felt too much like a being on a theme park ride) so we got changed into warm clothes and decided to ride it out as best we could. The strange part was that we didn’t feel that sick and while various members of the crew were taken ill, we were up on the bridge early the next morning sipping a shallow tea, eating Christmas biscuits and listening to Nightwatch’s version of Walking in the Air belting out from the radio (the Bulgarians and Russians could not get enough of this song)! The captain came up to the bridge to check some charts and did not hide his shock that we were up and about. He later came up to us and said ‘I am proud of you…’which we didn’t know whether to take as a compliment or not (we obviously did not look like able seamen).

By the 27th, as we neared the East coast of Australia and headed up past the Whitsunday Islands, things had begun to calm down again. We were told that the route is generally smoother from here on out and we would feel the air become heavy with tropical humidity again. As we neared the Great Barrier Reef (where the depth of water can be as little as a metre), our ship was required to take a pilot on board to navigate the reef and ensure that no damage was made to it. We were told at lunch that the pilot had boarded that morning and was from Wales – at first I had thought we were being told that pilot whales had been sighted, so I think they thought my excited interest was a little intense! Glyn might not have been a whale, but he was, as Ivan had been trying to tell me, from Wales. It was nice to chat to him about ex-pat life in Australia and memories of home for a bit. He showed us maps of the area we were passing through and gave us information about the islands, one of which is apparently just used for exporting fine sand to China and Japan for use in make-up. Glyn stayed with the boat for 24 hours before being dropped off on Thursday island on New Year’s Eve, where he would spend the night waiting to be collected by a returning vessel which he would pilot back to Cairns on New Year’s Day. We hoped he wouldn’t be alone but he was philosophical about it and explained that you had to be, otherwise you’d never make it as a seaman.

When I had first envisioned sailing through the tropics I had thoughts of sunshine, clear skies and sparkling blue waters. I had forgotten one key fact however – it was the wet season. Glyn had told us all about the heavy rain but we were a little alarmed to hear that there was a tropical cyclone headed our way (only category 1 apparently, but the word ‘cyclone’ is never welcome when you’re on a boat). My alarm intensified as I read in one of the shipping news magazines on-board that over 16 people from a cargo ship crew died in a typhoon just off the coast of Japan, having failed to get authority from the ships owners to dock in time. Leafing through these magazines sadly brought home the ever present dangers for crew who spend a good deal of their lives at sea. I understand now why a couple of them found it difficult to understand why we were travelling by cargo ship out of choice. Reports of kidnappings and crew deaths (seldom picked up by mainstream media channels) are all too frequent. It’s a tough life for both the crew and the families they have to leave behind and I began to understand why many of them had become cynical over the years.

After a couple of  hours of magazine reading, I looked up to see that the rain had stopped and the sun had actually come out (I was told to make the most of it as more storms were on the horizon), just in time for the New Year’s Eve BBQ which could now take place out on the rear deck around the anchor cables and cargo containers. Tables were laid out in a space behind the containers and various meats were already roasting over charcoal filled bins. The atmosphere was a little more sober than at Christmas time (it had been a tough day with alarms sounding every hour and everyone was missing their friends and families) but it was a nice occasion all the same. By midnight many people had had to return to their stations, a couple were resting in chairs, staring wistfully out to sea while others were dancing to a mix of Eminem’s ‘Without Me’ – but we chose to go up on deck and make use of the lack of light and clouds to watch some stars. We spotted Venus, Jupiter and we think Orion’s Belt and were so engrossed, we didn’t even notice that midnight had already been and gone.

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New Zealand

Posted on February 5, 2012 by anna

The first major difference that we noticed between life on passenger vessels and being a guest on a cargo ship was the food. Twenty men (and in this case a couple of passengers) are fed three meals a day by a chef and the chief steward, who cook up a wide variety of small-scale, ‘home-cooked’ dishes which have been nutritionally balanced for people who are at sea for long periods of time. These were far more tasty and less fatty than the mass-portion calorie-fest you get on the passenger ships. Of course, the flip side is that except for special dietary requirements, we didn’t get any choice in what we would be eating day-to-day (the vegetarianism I had been trying to sustain at home had to be put on indefinite hold). The second major difference is that we were treated like house guests making the whole experience immediately feel more ‘real’ and comforting. On the passenger ship, clear divides between passengers and crew are set up and although this is undeniably the appeal for some, we felt very uncomfortable being ‘looked after’ by people who ultimately resented the work that such huge numbers of passengers created for them. During our first couple of days at sea, we were interested to find that we had been given roles (under the titles ‘unit 7′ and ‘unit 8′) in the event of various emergencies. Even though the instruction was generally ‘to assist as required’, it was refreshing to be treated as an individual, even if we were still just a ‘number’ on paper.

At lunch and dinner, we were sat on a table for 6, alongside the officers on board (who were nearly all Bulgarian or Russian) but we found that we had to be very prompt if we were to catch any of them before they finished eating and returned to their stations. One evening, it was just us and Iliya, one of the newer crew members, at the table (the officers tend to sign on for three-four month contracts, the more general photograph by Chris Denbowcrew for six months to a year and the cook was signed on for two years which, as one of the younger Russian officers said ‘is just crazy’). Iliya asked if we would like to come and see some pictures of his family and homeland (Bulgaria) and listen to some ‘good music’ in his cabin. He generously laid out home made ‘cordial’ and Bulgarian chocolate which he had brought on board and we had an interesting evening listening to Russian accordions (Bayans), folk music, a harrowing song designed to highlight violence against women in Chechnya and a surprising selection from Tom Jones (‘he is big in Bulgaria’ apparently). The evening helped to break the ice in other ways to as Iliya explained that some people on board may have been keeping their distance from us because ‘they think you are agent for owners’. We quickly assured him otherwise and then drank ‘to the good night’ in celebration of the fact. After that evening, word seemed to spread that we were not spies, and some of the other officers began to attempt conversation with us at dinner. Through these conversations we learned various interesting snippets of information, for example that crocodile blood is apparently an ‘excellent antibiotic’; the captain of the fated Rena was ‘an incompetent idiot’; piracy is a real threat; life at sea is hard; a boat can feel like a prison and that the reason the sofas in the cabins are perpendicular to the beds is so that you can sleep on them when the rocking gets so violent you are rolled out of bed (something which we were to experience sooner than we realised). We were also encouraged to start exploring the ship, with the engineering crew acting as guide whenever we went below decks, and were invited to come up to the bridge for tea and biscuits whenever we cared to.

The first few days passed quickly and it wasn’t long before we woke up to find ourselves docked in Auckland. We had been warned about rough seas around New Zealand but our passage here had been almost eerily calm. A van met the boat at the port and took us to customs, where we flashed our passport alongside the crew and were then free to explore. Our friend Grace, who was currently living in Melbourne, had given us some maps and information on things to do around town which really helped us to make the most of our short time on shore. Keen to get as much exercise as we could, we walked to Mission Bay where we sat in a shoreside cafe and savoured the stillness of solid ground. We were due to be docked for 24 hours so enjoyed a full day and even had time in the morning to run back into town to get our hair cut and have a coffee.

From Auckland, the Carelia sailed the short distance to Tauranga, where we arrived the day before Christmas Eve. Tauranga was refreshingly green and as we made our way into port with a couple of pilots, we passed the famous Mount Maunganui where sheep grazed contentedly on the hill. We were picked up by a very friendly customs driver who drove us through the sprawling port, passing thousands of logs which were mostly destined for China and Asia. He also told us that oil from the Rena was still washing up on the shores here (you can see the capsized ship in the distance from the mount), which served as a reminder of how damaging boat disasters are to the environment. Despite this, the number of huge cruise and cargo ships visiting Tauranga is apparently going up, and reaction to this is understandably split among the local population.

We only had until 5pm to get back on the boat, which was under orders to make headway back towards Australia as quickly as possible (we were unaware but there were storms brewing and the captain wanted to escape the brunt of them) but had enough time to walk around the base of Mount Maunganui. En route to the mount we walked through the quaint town watching families buying last minute Christmas gifts. The coastal path leading to the base walk was near town but we were saddened to see the continued effect of the oil damage along way. Many of the rocks were tarred black so despite the inviting look of the water, it was still deemed too dangerous to swim. The captain and first officer of the Rena are apparently in jail, so the penalties for this kind of mishap are severe but with so many ships navigating popular trade routes such as this (in the Singapore straight vessels were literally back to back and side to side), it’s almost surprising that it doesn’t happen more often.

Despite the oil, the walk and the scenery were beautiful and we left Tauranga feeling revived and stocked up with chocolate ready for a Christmas and New Year’s on board.

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The AS Carelia: A Freight Adventure

Posted on January 27, 2012 by anna

We were due to meet the AS Carelia at the Port of Brisbane’s Container Terminal, which as it turns out is quite a way out from the city centre. We took a train to an almost derelict suburban station (Wynnum North) and then after a brief panic at not finding a taxi anywhere, managed to call a local firm who drove us to the wharf (after a few wrong turns). The experience of boarding the cargo ship as a passenger was unlike most forms of international transport, in that it was both quick and painless. It offers a glimpse of what travel was like before the introduction of ‘security theatre‘ and the other ridiculous departure rituals that plague air travel (and some train travel today too). We were greeted at the port authority by a friendly old security guard at the front desk who showed us into a smart-looking conference room where we were to wait for immigration. Two laid back customs officials shortly arrived and sat down opposite us at the table before asking us a little about our onward journey, talking us through the departure paperwork (thankfully only one page) and stamping our passports. They said that they don’t see huge numbers of cargo ship passengers but that it’s not uncommon and in the last year they’ve stamped about half a dozen in and out of the country (the most notable having been a group from the UK travelling around the world on a fire truck, which came with them on the freighter to raise money for a cancer charity).

We already knew, from the difficulty we had experienced in tracking down any freight companies who were willing to carry passengers between Australia and South East Asia, that the number of passengers who manage to obtain this passage is currently quite limited (it was certainly living up to its reputation as the holy grail of sea travel)! This is partly due to a previous governments’ extreme approaches to illegal immigrants and subsequent high-court quashing) – which makes carrying passengers more hassle than its worth for container companies. At the time of writing, the AS Carelia (a medium sized container vessel) is the only ship taking passengers between Australia and South East Asia! If you’re more flexible or travelling Eastwards then getting to South Korea or across the Pacific is much easier for some reason.

After we finished with customs we jumped in the security officer’s ute and were taken down to meet the ship. A couple of crew in bright orange overalls were there to meet us (roped in by the 3rd officer to help bring up our bags) and after eyeing the very steep steel gangway to the ship, we were grateful for the help! We were then taken inside the tall tower of the ship, which houses the cabins, dining rooms, offices and the bridge) and were shown up four flights of steel stairways in the ship’s superstructure to our ‘living quarters’, which were much bigger (being split into a day room and a bed room/bathroom) and more comfortable than what we had become used to on our previous trans-Atlantic and trans-Pacific journeys. There was a writing desk, a sofa, a comfy double bed and wardrobe, but the cabin was pretty bare apart from that, which presented us with a blank slate for personal touches, postcards and pictures sellotaped to the walls.

We were then taken down to meet the captain, Mr. Alexey Popov, who greeted us warmly but eyed us a little suspiciously. He explained that this is not a passenger ship and that things had to be done a little differently around here, for example we would have to ring the bridge for permission before venturing outside on the lower decks; meals would be served promptly at specific times of the day (we were to eat with the officers) and there was no alcohol available as this was a dry ship. He also asked us if we were married – after a bit a quick eye contact, we hesitatingly said that we were, to which he replied ‘Good! I thought so but was a bit confused by different name in passports…no matter’. We were then shown back up to our cabin to await a visit from the the health and safety officer who would explain the safety procedures to us. While we waited, we watched the large cargo cranes loading and unloading containers in a cacophonous sort of Tetris dance from our cabin windows. The ship finally pulled out of Brisbane Container Terminal in the late afternoon, slowly inching its way towards the open sea and New Zealand. As we veered away from the Queensland coast we caught a brief glimpse of some dolphins jumping alongside the boat. By sunset, the coastline had become a distant strip on the horizon, the last land we were to see before arriving in Auckland.

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Melbourne to Brisbane

Posted on January 2, 2012 by alex

There is no direct train from Melbourne to Brisbane, so we had to go via Sydney and then change. The journey to Sydney and the onwards route to Brisbane each take about 11 hours, so it’s a good idea to stop overnight in Sydney if possible, though due to current train timings it is likely you will have to spend at least one night on board. Either way, we left plenty of leeway in case the Brisbane port agent called to tell us there had been a change to our freighter’s docking schedule (which does happen, if bad weather strikes).

Melbourne to Sydney – XPT train – 10.5 hours

We left Melbourne heavily laden and in a rush to meet our 8.30 am train. For some reason, I was stupid enough to think that we could have bundled all our things onto a tram – which it soon became obvious we could not, given that it was also peak commuter time. Instead, we took the first and last taxi in Melbourne and made it to the station just in time.

With the light of our experience of the city, the passing scenery of Melbourne’s suburbs looked quite different to when we arrived; we saw many railside graffiti pieces, for example, which we now recognised the style and understood the context of. We were sad to leave Melbourne just as we had began to really settle in but we knew we were going to have to get used to being on the road again, so we tried our best to re-adjust as the suburbs began to melt into farmland.

Once we passed a town called Albury, the terrain became much more undulating and hilly – lush pastureland perforated with small man-made holes (‘dams’ in local terminology) to collect rainwater for the grazing animals. Because it was still early in the morning, or perhaps because our eyes were now more finely tuned, we glimpsed kangaroos and emus feeding among the long grass of some passing fields.

Further east, the terrain becomes more dry – shrubland and plains with small patches of isolated forest dotting the hilltops. The rocks, where they have been exposed by the elements, are the characteristic bright orange and crimson red that you see in the landscape paintings of local artists – when covered by foliage they appear a lush green or dry yellow.

As we approached Sydney, we passed straight into the path of a brewing storm. A deep mist absorbed the landscape for the next hour, cutting our visibility to only 30 metres or so. As we entered the storm cloud, the temperature in the carriage began to fall and I was wishing that I had packed my jumper in a more accessible place! Just as the rain clouds looked fit to burst, we pulled into Sydney’s Central Station. After yet another fracas with the bags, we ended up very glad that we had chosen a place to stay that was within walking distance of the station.

Sydney

We spent most of our time in Sydney un-packing, de-cluttering and re-packing the bags, leaving some stuff in the hostel box and posting other things home. Fortunately there was also some time in the evening to have a little explore. We found a great Malaysian restaurant (good preparation for Port Klang) where we ate some satay dishes and drank some cham (half coffee-half tea which actually tastes quite good) before heading to Darling Harbour for a walk. This is an unlovely part of the city full of conference centres, chain restaurants and large hotels clustered around the waterfront. Given the temperature, we had almost forgotten that it was only a week to Christmas, until we noticed a giant inflatable Santa climbing the nearby convention centre.

Our overnight train to Brisbane wasn’t scheduled to leave Sydney until 4 p.m., so we had some time the next day to take a quick trip to Manly Beach, a forty-minute ferry ride from Circular Quay. Taking the ferry to Manly gave us a fresh perspective of Sydney – the city’s suburbs appear to be laid out all along the coastline of both sides of the inlet, and many people travel to work by ferry, which I could immediately see the appeal of. The journey couldn’t be more different to the packed crush of the rush-hour commute on the Northern Line. Manly itself is a cosmopolitan seaside suburb, which feels removed enough from the city centre to maintain its own identity. We had a little bite to eat and then it was time to head straight back on the next ferry, to make sure that we didn’t miss the train!

Sydney to Brisbane – XPT train – 11 hours

Ah, the joy of an afternoon train! With our newly lightened bags we took a leisurely stroll into Central Station, quickly grabbing some reading material and a final good coffee before making our way onto the platform. The train left right on time, without much to report at the station except for a lonely Santa with a brown beard. As we passed the suburbs of Sydney for the last time and onto the towns of Hornsby and Fassifern, we felt the humidity rise as we entered an area full of lakes and swampy areas. There were also glimpses of Australian Pelicans flying in formation above the water. I decided that Nick Cave’s rendition of ‘Muddy Water’ would be an apt song to accompany the landscape rolling by, which subequently turned into a marathon listening session as Anna and I shared a pair of headphones, choosing songs that fit our mood and surroundings until long into the night.

At Maitland, we passed a grain depot site (one I was familiar with from my time with the wheat pricing), and also saw a large collection of shipping containers repurposed as storage sheds and offices. A little further on, the train slowed down as we approached an old railway car being renovated by a local rail enthusiasts’ society, and small home plots with burning bonfires that sizzled against the endless stretches of bush. As dusk set in we spotted mobs of kangaroos feasting on rail-side fields, seemingly undeterred by the train. As people began to settle in for the night, I plugged in my headphones and listened to Arcade Fire while the fields rolled on into the descending darkness…

The following morning aboard the train was brief – after a night of little sleep (ironically, a man in our carriage was thrown off the train and arrested at 4am for drunkenly singing ‘Silent Night’ at the top of his voice), we woke up with the rising sun to see the misty pastures of Queensland glowing yellow. We were able to digest a very quick round of raisin toast and a coffee before the train pulled in at Brisbane central at 5.30 am. The toast gave us just enough energy to haul all our bags off the train and get to the nearby YHA Brisbane Central where we would wait it out for the two days we had before our freighter was due to dock in port.

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Melbourne Excursions

Posted on December 31, 2011 by alex

During our time in Melbourne we made several weekend excursions to the surrounding countryside, in an attempt to explore some of the beautiful coast and bushland that Victoria is famous for. On Melbourne’s doorstep there are opportunities to spot some of Australia’s extraordinary wildlife including Koalas, Echidnas, Emus, Kangaroos, Wallabies, Kookaburras, Lyrebirds and even Penguins (and we’re not talking about Melbourne zoo)…

Dandenongs

This is a small mountain range to the east of the city – it’s close enough to get there via public transport and visit in a day, with a commuter train route nearby and regular buses visiting the main points of call, but I recommend carpooling if you can, as some of the good sights aren’t on the bus routes. Our first stop was the Lyrebird walk at Sherbrooke Forest which is next to Grant’s Picnic Ground, a place where people have, wrongly or rightly, been feeding local birds for decades thus allowing people to get closer than normal to wild Rosella Parrots, Galahs, Sulphur-crested Cockatoos and Kookaburras. The Lyrebird walk is what we came for however and if you are fortunate you may be able to hear one of these famous mimics imitating a mobile phone or a chainsaw (they really are incredible – see this video). Unfortunately luck was not on our side and even after an extensive trek we had to settle with what we thought were the notes of a distant lyrebird call. The trek did however lead us through a forest which echoed with the sounds of eerie Kookaburra laughter – one of those ‘we could only be in Australia’ moments.

Next, some advice: whatever the local information point in the town of Dandenong may tell you, avoid ‘SkyHigh Mount Dandenong‘, which is supposed to be a viewpoint where you can see the whole city of Melbourne and its surrounds from above. Unfortunately, it has been turned into a ridiculous tourist trap, charging sky high car parking fees and encouraging local buses to drop tourists off here, where the “Sky High Mount” is the only restaurant for a long way around. Needless to say, it is overpriced and you can access the view from elsewhere in the Dandenongs with a bit of research.

A much better alternative is to buy a picnic-style lunch from one of the abundant village bakeries and tea shops and then make the short drive/bus ride south from the Dandenongs to Cardinia Reservoir Park. Here, you can enjoy some beautiful walks along the banks of the reservoir and then head down to the grassy plains where wild kangaroos emerge at dusk to feed. As with most public parks in Australia, there are communal barbeque areas and fuel is even provided!

St. Kilda

St. Kilda is a suburb of Melbourne that is easily accessible via the tram. Traditionally a bohemian part of town (further inland to the east, St. Kilda still retains its edgy side) but as in many other waterfront locations, more affluent patrons are starting to roll in. A favourite mecca for Brits on holiday visas, it slightly resembles seaside towns such as Brighton, with lanes full of interesting boutiques, bars and cafés while also maintaining a chilled seafront vibe. It also comes complete with its own iconic fairground, Luna Park, which was designed and constructed in 1905 by the original creators of Coney Island in New York and houses the longest continually-running vintage wooden rollercoaster in the world.

The main draw for us, however, was to be found out at the end of the pier where a colony of Little Penguins have been breeding on the rocks since at least 1986. The adult penguins swim out during the day to catch fish while the chicks (when there are any) hide under the piles of rocks that make up the seawall at the entrance to the marina. If you arrive half an hour before sunset, it is possible to watch the penguins shuffle across the beach back to their nests. There are now volunteer wardens who turn up at the site at dusk with infrared torches (which the penguins can’t see) in an attempt to stop people using flashes. Apparently there have also been previous incidents where tourists have tried to hug and pose with a penguin, so the wardens’ job is to make sure that this doesn’t happen. Also living amongst the rocks is a protected species of water rat with a white tail tip called the rakali that you might just catch a glimpse of while waiting for the penguins to arrive.

Great Ocean Road

This is a 243 km stretch of road that runs from the south of Geelong, southwest of Melbourne itself, to Warrnambool, following the extensive coastline and running through a stretch of temperate rainforest. Because of the distance, we opted to stay for a couple of nights on the way, but it is common for people to travel the entire length in a day (especially if they’ve gone with a Melbourne tour operator). Again, it’s possible to take public transport but after the experience of our road trips in California, we figured that the journey would be much more interesting if we hired a car. Our plan was to head as far west as we could on the first day, leaving just after lunch on the Friday, explore a little on the Saturday and then take a leisurely drive back east to Melbourne on the Sunday.

Leaving Melbourne just after lunch, our first destination was a small town called Lorne about 50km along the road, where a local café and pizza place had been recommended to us as pit stops. It took us about two hours longer than we had originally planned to get there – the eastern section of the great road may not be as long as the west in terms of distance but because of the winding coastline, the excellent views (each excursion always led to one or two detours) and the road’s precarious bends it does takes quite a long time to pass through. A couple of delicious pizzas gave us the energy to push on, and we arrived at the half-way point of Apollo Bay by sunset, though we were by this stage running late. Thus followed hours of driving through the forest in near darkness, as a distant thunderstorm briefly illuminated the night sky through the trees. As we entered the dense, foresty area, our headlights occasionally picked up an erratic kangaroo or two, hopping alongside or in front of us before disappearing into the darkness. One hopped in front of our car, like a startled deer, for a good five minutes before making its exit over a fence into the trees beyond. We finally reached Port Campbell, a popular backpacker destination where we had booked at a place called ‘flashpackers’ for the night just after 10pm. Arriving late in the evening and with no mobile reception to call ahead for the last two hours, we were lucky to get hold of the owner to let us in after someone called him from the pub for us. He hadn’t thought we were going to turn up but luckily hadn’t given our room away and so we were able to settle in for the night after watching a bit more of the spectacular fork lighting storm still raging offshore.

The following morning we woke to the sounds of boiling water, popping toast and the chatter of people sipping coffee. In a hostel such as this, where food is provided (I think this is the ‘flash’ part), breakfast is a great occasion to talk to fellow travellers – and on a road like this one most of the conversation is inevitably dedicated to peoples’ destinations and experiences along the way. We met a couple of teachers from the U.K. who were driving all the way around Australia and a German who had been working in Melbourne for a while and was taking a weekend excursion.

The following day our first visit was to the nearby Tower Hill Nature Reserve. Situated in an old volcano crater, this is an example of colonial ‘expertise’ gone madly awry. Settlers cleared the area of nearly all its native trees to use it as grazing land and a game reserve where European animals such as rabbits, pheasants and grouse were introduced. The park was mismanaged for nearly a century before it was abandoned until the 1950s – since then, all the European wildlife has perished and the park is now a refuge for a diverse range of Australian wild animals such as Kangaroos, Wallabies, Emus, Koalas and Herons. We took a trek around the old crater’s edge, to see ducks and other marshland birds exploring a lake in the middle. We also bumped into our first Koala here, who greeted us with a terrifying growl through the undergrowth (at first we thought we had sighted the Bunyip!) While they look quite cuddly high up in a tree, when you see one at ground level their claws become more reminiscent of Freddy Krueger than Winnie the Pooh. Thanks to their huge claws, they can move pretty quickly around the trees when they want to, despite spending most of their days in a eucalyptus poison-addled state, which is apparently what makes them docile. Along the way we also spotted some emus rustling in the undergrowth, which looked quite formidable up close, with huge velociraptor-like legs and large claws for digging through the dirt.

A short stop in a tiny bakery, in a suburb that time forgot not far from the official end of the Great Ocean Road, allowed us to refuel ourselves before pressing on. Our next destination was Apollo Bay, another seaside town with a main street lined with small cafés and bars, as well as the smart ‘Eco Beach’ YHA hostel, just a short walk from the sand. This hostel has been purpose-built to use as little energy as possible, making intentional use of the area’s sea winds as opposed to air conditioning, and using the ample sunlight to provide most of the power required for hot showers and some electricity for the communal TV etc. In the evening we strolled down the main street and watched the sunset from a little vegetarian café, while eating chunks of warm home-made bread. After a glass of wine or two, it was easy to drift off back in our hostel room listening to the whispers of the sea breeze and the sound of the ebbing tide carried by the wind.

Our last day on the Great Ocean Road was spent heading east, for the most part. It was a beautiful sunny morning so we decided drive to Cape Otway which is a great place to spot more koalas clinging to the Eucalyptus trees that line the road. The famous Cape Otway lighthouse lies at the end of the route but we decided to do one of the free coastal hikes instead. We then took a short detour to visit Maits Rest, an area of temperate rainforest which has a short boardwalk trail, weaving through rain-filled gullies and giant redwood-like trees. It is also home to a rare indigenous species of carnivorous snail (so rare that we almost stood on one which was inching its way across the footpath, unaware of the hundreds of tour party feet headed its way). While we were on our way out we passed two large groups of Japanese tourists making their way trepidatiously along the slippery forest board-walk, while carrying iPads, laptops, suitcases and massive telephoto-lens cameras. Luckily, we had moved the snail out of foot crushing reach.

Because we had covered half the distance the day before, we had plenty of time to enjoy the drive home and took a few more breaks at the various beaches along the way, as well as making an obligatory visit to the Twelve Apostles. Our slow, twisty drive back took us through coastline reminiscent of the Jurassic coast in Dorset. Our final stop before heading back to the main road home was the Split Point Lighthouse, just off the path from Aireys Inlet, that was used as the set for Round The Twist, a cheesy 80s kids TV show that we both remembered watching. We weren’t the only ones: while we were walking up the hill we passed a man quietly humming the theme song to himself.

We arrived back in Melbourne as dusk began to settle but were definitely glad that we made time to explore the Great Ocean Road.

Castlemaine (near Bendigo)

In the first few weeks of December, the summer barbeque season kicks off in Victoria, and when we were invited by our friend Helen, along with our other hostel-companion Grace, to accompany her on a trip to the countryside for a BBQ being given by the farm-stay hosts she had lived with and worked for back in October, we jumped at the chance. Helen worked at Karoline and Peter’s home farm in Castlemaine as part of a farm stay through Help Exchange and learned many interesting things which she shared on her blog here.

The train journey was quick but incorporated a brief glimpse of the Dandenongs and some interesting conversations about whether Castlemaine beer does in fact come from Castlemaine (it doesn’t, it’s brewed in Brisbane). After a catching a taxi from the station and following some directions, which involved looking for a turn in road and some clustered letter boxes, we arrived at Karoline and Peter’s gorgeous farm and were greeted by their two dogs. It wasn’t long before Karoline (who was trying to recreate a Scottish dessert that Helen had made while staying there) asked us if we would do her a favour and pick some blackberries and raspberries. We were only too happy to go out into the sunshine to pick (and occasionally feast on) plump, ripe raspberries. These were just the tip of the fruit barrel as the farm also grows figs, cherries, apricots, pears, peaches and even olives. We also witnessed the first sprouts of some of the crops Helen had been responsible for planting while she was there and it looked like they were thriving! The views from the farm were breathtaking and the porch looks out onto endless fields where flocks of Galahs swoop and eagles soar overhead. There is also a small waterhole which is used for swimming and as a water source for some of the house’s bathroom systems.

It wasn’t long before the other guests started to arrive and the food and drink on the table began to mount up. The other guests were all living locally (except for the new Help Exchange volunteer who was from Spain) and many seemed to have either built their own houses or at least been involved in the process somewhere along the way. One of the guests, Chris, was in the process of creating his own bush fire shelter out of an old cargo container which had been partially buried underground. I asked one of the younger guests who lived in Bendigo whether he had any plans to travel or study in another part of Australia and he said, “no, why would I when I already live in such a beautiful part of the world”, and I could see his point. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming and the surroundings so relaxing that I almost wish I could have stayed there forever myself.

As the sun began to set and the wine continued to flow, we decided to take a country walk down the lane to try and spot some Kangaroos. After about 15 minutes we came to a field where we spotted a mob in the distance. Just as we were getting excited, we heard a car drive up and it was Chris who’d heard that we’d gone out looking for kangaroos and had another plan. He drove us a short distance to his house which is in the middle of bushland where kangaroos reliably appear every evening by the watering hole. It wasn’t long before we spotted them, much closer than most of the ones we’d seen so far. They only paused for a second before springing off over nearby fences back into the shelter of the forest, but it was definitely worth the trip. Conscious of having to catch the last train back to Melbourne, we had just enough time for a quick tour of the container fire shelter and it was very impressive. At present it was partly being used as a wine cellar but perhaps wine reserves are exactly what you would need to wait out a bush fire. Chris very kindly drove us back to the farm to say goodbye and then on to the station where we reached the platform with minutes to spare. We got back to Melbourne feeling refreshed and really glad that we’d been given the opportunity to play at the Good Life for the day (if only I could learn to grow crops as successfully as Karoline and Peter)…

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