The bus dropped us off at the market. There is always something enticing about markets in foreign countries. They are full of strange fruits, smells and objects. It is fascinating to walk around through the stalls looking at the goods and talking to the traders, exchanging smiles and laughs.
We saw a lot of big birds circling overhead. That was the fish market. The fish were gutted and the heads and entrails thrown to the vultures and egrets. As we got near we found ourselves walking through the vultures and egrets. They were standing around waiting to be fed.
Inside the fish were all extremely exotic. The smell wasn’t quite as exotic.
The beach at the fishing port was covered with rubbish with vultures and egrets picking through it. It did not look very enticing. All around was the squalor of decaying colonial buildings. Nothing was maintained. It reeked of poverty.
Belem was an abbreviation of Bethlehem. It did not live up to its name.
Hello again from the Bay of Bengal where spectacular sunsets with great black heavy thunder clouds regale the horizon.
We’ve hit the imponderables of India – the land of colour and disparity where answers are difficult to come by.
At the end of our trip a cordon of soldiers with stony faces and semi-automatics escorted us back on to the ship. I wasn’t sure if they were there to protect us or prevent us fleeing to join the throngs on the subcontinent. It made quite a contrast to our reception where a band of consisting of strange Indian pipes and drums regaled us as pretty maidens applied garlands of fragrant flowers, and welcome blessing with spots of ochre on the forehead coupled with a splash of water, But then India is a land of contrasts.
Driving through Chennai (Madras) one is struck by the splendour of the old colonial building, and some new ones, and the swathes of corrugated slums. There were down and outs lying in dishevelled hopelessness on the pavements amidst the mandatory piles of litter, dirt and rubble and the young girls, and even older women, laughing and looking so radiant in their gaily coloured saris with flowers in their hair– the desperate eyes of beggars and hawkers and the smiling faces of the kids and families who stopped to talk and ask for photos.
With the incessant honking of horns, the ubiquitous mad rush of traffic and sea of people all busily roaring off somewhere at speed, one was left to wonder where it was going? It was the same story throughout Asia – too many people, too much poverty, too much pollution and destruction and no easy solution. Where would you start?
However I did see a glimmer of hope. There were slums being cleared and flats being built, new flyovers and an underground transit system – but more importantly there were lorries with the slogans – One Family One Child and We two Ours one. If there is to be a solution for humanity and beleaguered nature it surely has to lie in that – we need to decrease our numbers. Another of the trucks had a sign about Health & Safety that I thought might be suitable for Rich – Safety doesn’t happen by accident.
India is so different – not just the people and noise – but the cows wandering in the streets, the gaily painted trucks, dilapidated old busses crammed with people, the whole families on motorbikes and bright besaried girls riding side-saddle, the goats, bikes, occasional bullock drawn cart, old pedal cycles, ocean of honking Tuk Tuks, street vendors with melons, sugar cane juice, fruit and sweet candies, pedal carts laden with goods, and the dirt and squalor. There is nothing quite like it. It has energy.
The heat is intense. The sun seared and the sweat dripped. They have three seasons – hot, hotter and hottest. We had arrived in the hottest following a drought caused by a failed monsoon. A street cobbler who repaired my shoe for a dollar asked me how I found the heat. I said I perversely liked it. He laughed and asked where I came from. I told him England. He asked why we white people liked the heat when black people who lived in it found it oppressive. I told him that it was probably because I came from a cold country and it was a novelty. He laughed and thought me a mad Englishman. I looked round for mad dogs.
We drove out of Chennai and sped for two hours through the countryside to Kanchipuram – the sacred city of a thousand temples. Well that was a myth. There were no longer a thousand temples – If there ever had – but there were certainly a lot. One thing you notice about India is the proliferation of temples. Probably poverty breeds the need for hope? We only visited two. The first was old – a large granite construction one thousand five hundred years old. The other was a lot newer being a sandstone structure only one thousand two hundred years old.
We were lucky enough to be visiting during a festival time so there were lots of loud bangs, ceremonies, candles, fire, water and coloured powder.
The big temple was thronging with gaily dressed people, with garlands and offerings. The carved granite columns created quite different scene to anything I had seen before. There were shrines, statues, some garish, and bright streamers. There were animals living in the temple – I saw crows, monkeys, dogs, cows and squirrels. The people were friendly and seemed pleased to see us – asking for photos and practicing their English. There were some beggars and sellers of wares but they did not pester us too much.
The second temple was small and almost deserted. It was compact with carvings and inlays of gods and dancers. There were carvings of cows strategically placed on walls, at the corners of the building and in a separate shrine. Cows are holy – no beef on the menu here! It was a very beautiful piece of intricately carved architecture that reminded me of Ankor Wat.
I’d packed a lot into a day and returned with over nine hundred captured images!! There was so much to see and record – so much wonder, beauty and decay! I think that tells the story – India – the land of contrasts, overpopulation, superstition and colour – sits on a knife-edge – which way will it fall?
My last shots were of a flotilla of orange jellyfish, crows roosting on the aerials and a bright red sun setting in an orange hazy sky behind two black skeletal derricks. What would future sunrises reveal? Fare well India.
Thailand was similar to most other places in Asia with its families on mopeds, bundles of electricity cables, friendly people and colour and bustle. Something had to be different. It was a tourist destination for young kids with surfing and snorkelling, beach parties, nightclubs and freedom. We didn’t want that. We weren’t here long enough to chill or sample the action. We wanted to see what was there. I wanted to head off to see the fabulous rock formations on the beach on James Bond Island but it was too far and expensive. We put that aside for another time.
As we nosed into the harbour the island looked green, tropical and affluent with its big houses on the hillsides and sandy beaches. A huge Buddha sat on a hill in the distance.
Heading off on foot in the heat, down the road, away from the expensive tours and hustling cabbies, we teamed up with friends and grabbed a taxi in a quieter area to take us round. We settled for the giant Buddha on the hill. On the way we stopped off at another lavish temple with fire crackers and sonic booms. It was a lavish affair of reds and golds with hundreds of gold Buddhas, paintings and grounds. The temple was wonderful as usual. Extremely extravagant and full of incense clutching adherents.
I hadn’t realised what the strange beehive structure was that I was standing next to until the attendant threw in a lighted bunch of fire-crackers that went off with such a racket that it made us all jump out of our skin. It was an echo chamber designed to enhance the noise. It transformed loud bangs into fearsome explosions. Somebody should have warned us!
We set off for the hill, up the winding road past restaurants and elephants, cyclists and little four wheel motortrikes. The Buddha on the hill, that we had spotted from the boat, was big – extremely big. We walked around the base as a troupe of young Buddhist monklets were escorted past in their orange robes – obviously about to be indoctrinated.
The views were incredible. The green hills, coated with thick carpets of rich tropical forest, undulated down to the sea. The city sat in the bay below. The sun bathed us in its radiation, the rocks were melting, the air thrilled and the sweat dripped so that we were constantly replenishing fluids. Birds sang and flitted and there was that tropical scent in the breeze – of flowers and decaying vegetation – sweet and fecund. It felt serene. We climbed up the steep steps and looked up at the massive idol. We went into the space under the statue where there were numerous shrines and then we walked around the outside to peer over the landscape and look at the various other shrines, butterflies, trees, orchids and wildlife.
It was lunchtime and our taxi driver knew where to go to get a fish meal – probably one of his relatives. We ended up in an isolated place by the side of a lake where fish and crabs in big tanks looked mournfully back at you as if they already knew their fate. After a beer or two to ward off the heat we consumed our fish and crab, without thinking too much of those sorrowful eyes, and settled back in our seats to take in the surrounds. There was a rafted fishing village in the centre of the lake which was probably the source of our meal.
We then had a lazy wander round Phuket taking in the colourful shops and decaying old buildings. The market was interesting as usual with its array of colourful fruit and vegetables and live fish in bowls. I can never quite get used to the meat displayed in this heat.
Another great and tiring day in the heat!
This Indonesia/Java/Borneo bit has been marvellous. The people have all been extremely friendly and helpful, public transport great, taxis dubious but cheap, food wonderful and it has been exceedingly hot and humid! My skin seems to be changing colour! I’m getting used to this warmth and travel! Only another 4 weeks!! Plenty of reading, writing and viewing still to do!
Well here we are amazingly on day 42. It has been extremely busy despite the fact that I have quite forgotten how to cook, clean, repair or even make my own bed.
We are now at sea heading for India, Sri Lanka and the Maldives.
Arriving in Singapore was great, apart from the lengthy customs clearance. After the overcrowded bustle of Vietnam with its poverty, decay, masses of scooters and pollution it was quite a contrast to arrive in a city that was clean, well-organised, well looked after and so full of interest. The MRT was cheap and provided the means to explore Little India, China Town, the Arab quarters and the Marina bay area with its fantastic super trees and modern architecture juxtaposed with the old colonial buildings. They’ve done a great job. It is an amazing city that we wouldn’t mind going back to. We cable carred, trained, bussed, walked, boated, ate, drank and saw the sights!
It is obvious that huge amounts of money have been poured into Singapore. It is a complete contrast to most of the rest of Asia and Indonesia. One is left with the impression that unless the overpopulation problem is solved soon something drastic will happen – the collapse of the ecology of the area? A virus pandemic? Mass starvation? There’s a tipping point. Something bad is about to go off. But Singapore appears immune. The modern buildings and infrastructure nicely complement the old. The underground takes away a lot of the traffic and it seems almost serene. It seemed like a modern city not suffering stress and decay.
First stop was Little India with its shops of spices and trinkets, flowers and tourist goods (including a gruesome pile of dried lizards, fish and other exotic creatures – killed for tourists), peacock statues and brightly coloured housing and shops. The gaily decorated Hindu temples, which were in the midst of ceremonial celebrations, with their flowers, ceramic gods, paintings, offerings, foods and smells were a delight on the eye. The women in their brightly coloured saris and a street sculpture of equally bright parasols provided a real splash. The cows and half naked priests harked back to ancient times as the throngs flocked to worship.
Then it was the Arab sector with its mosque and another set of worshippers in different garb and different customs but equally adamant that their book and ways are the only way; the true word of god – whatever he may be.
I did not concern myself too much with the esoterics of fictional deities but focussed on the art and architecture, which was sumptuous, before searching for the blue cheese flavour ice-cream I had enjoyed on my last visit. Like god it was nowhere to be found.
Next stop was the Buddhist Temple which supposedly had a fang from Buddha as an artefact. Something to get your teeth into. It was also full of worshippers in yet another set of garb, incense, chanting and idols, but at least there were no gods here.
We made our way over to the Marina Bay and the hotel that is a ship on three towers with the amazing array of surreal sci-fi Eco Trees.
They round the bay past the Lion spouting water to the centre and the dock area with its conjunction of old colonial and new. Never has such a marriage worked so well. Night was falling and we settled at a table overlooking the water to partake of beer and crab – an ideal combination.
Then it was back to Marina Bay for a sight of the Eco Trees performing as they danced with their light show!
The next day we boarded the cable car up to the top of the hill, for a view over the surrounding area, and then over to Sentosa Island with its funfair, artificial beaches and tropical forest with a backdrop of ships queuing up for the container port! On the second cable-car ride we went straight over our ship!
By the time we got back a storm was coming through. The sky darkened menacingly and warm rain splashed down in great globs. It created quite a scene as we pulled away. We were leaving a great city. We loved it.
Life on the ship is relaxed. There are lectures, time for reading, writing and contemplation, and time to relax in the heat, cool off in the pool and sip a beer while looking out over the sea. The cooks kept themselves amused by making sculptures out of the fruit.
We were not disappointed. There were lots of containers in the container port. I’m becoming an expert on derricks and cranes. We are docked in a commercial dock miles from anywhere so we jumped a taxi and headed off to the city. We have spent the day going around Ho Chi Min City (Sigh gone). In amongst the bustle and grime, the millions of motor cycles and street sellers, there are the remnants of the old beautiful colonial city. It has been knocked about and suffers from neglect and wanton destruction; there are far too many people, too much poverty and too much pollution. It is hot, humid and dirty but the people are friendly. We did our usual walking around, seeing the sights, temples, architectural delights and observing the people. Crossing the road and dodging scooters was interesting even though we had done it before. It still amazes me how whole families all fit on one little moped, how the adults wear helmets but not the kids, the colourful face-masks and shades. Quite unique.
The city is exploding as the population rises – they are planning big expansions but I think the charm is lost in the polluted haze.
It’s the same story the world over – too many people generating poverty and environmental catastrophe.
An interesting place to spend time in though.
Having been here before, we revisited the Post Office and Cathedral but gave the fabulous War Museum a miss. We visited two temples that we missed last time. I find the religious artwork colourful and fascinating, the sacred rocks, pruned trees and flowers have a spiritual pull.
We then strolled through the sculpture park and over to the fish market where live fish are displayed in bowls.
It was fascinating to discover a totally different Hindu Temple in the midst of Saigon.
We went up the tallest building to the Sky View, had a beer and looked out over the expanding expanse. Then we went back to the ship.
As we set off from our wonderful moorings in the Premier Saigon Container Port I was reflecting on the beauty of the surrounds – pylons, silos, derricks, rubbish heaps, wasteland, containers in a variety of colours, oil slicks, muddy brown water, jetsam, flotsam and garbage. Very picturesque.
I try to imagine what it will be like when the population has doubled and the fish have all been gobbled up.
This is how it used to look!
Gonna have an easy day tomorrow – sauna, swimming pool, Jacuzzi and a beer!!
It’s a hard life in this 32 degree heat.
Looming is Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Phuket – it is going to be a busy four days – then we’re heading for India!!
Today is the halfway point!! Still lots of amazing things ahead!
We were leaving a whole section of our journey behind us as Borneo, Java, Indonesia and the Philippines faded away in the yellow glow of the evening sunset. We were heading over the China Sea to Hong Kong. It was hot and humid but the breeze created by the motion of the boat was cooling and pleasant. I stood at the prow and looked down into the water below the same as I had done day after day. Perhaps they did have different properties, temperatures, salinity or acidity? We give these oceans names but I could not really tell the difference between The Java and China Seas. Sometimes they were aqua marine blue, sometimes slate grey and sometimes green; it depended on the light and sky. What they did appear to have in common was a lack of animal life. Apart from a half dozen sea snakes and three boobies we saw nothing – no whales, dolphins or sharks. I suppose there are some still around somewhere. We can’t have killed them all off yet – or can we?
Hong Kong was a reprise but we had never arrived by ship before and were on deck at dawn to watch the cloud wrapped islands slide by as we made our way into the bay. It looked misty but the clouds were few and it was promising. We were struck once more by the sheer number of high-rise tower blocks. They spring up like mushrooms – many more than on our previous visit. This is an area of high population density.
We had a dragon dance to welcome us but we missed it, stepping off the gangplank as the dragon was taking off his head. The sun came out to welcome us and we had a clear idea of what we wanted to pack in. We caught the free shuttle-bus into the centre. After that it was subways, buses, trams and boats and walking – lots of walking. Underground, over ground wombling free.
Walking across the road we found ourselves enveloped in the wonderful Nunnery of Chi Lin with the exquisite Nan Lian Garden all soaked in Zenness like an oasis of peace in the midst of the urban melee. We spent far too long wandering through the serene landscapes but they were captivating – a small red and yellow pagoda with arched bridge in the lake, the manicured trees and shrubs, orchids, rocks of wondrous texture, shape and colour, flowers, crested blue birds flitting in the bushes, relaxing hues, shapes and curves, the temple complex. It made for an island of green peace so detached and beautiful that it was hard to imagine that we were in the midst of the overcrowded city.
Travelling the subway the first thing that struck us was the Asianness of the place. It had changed in the fifteen years since our last visit. Back then there were a mixture of races and western faces were common. Now we stood out as a rarity. All around us was a uniformity of Chinese faces – and very friendly they were too. Apart from that it was the same well-ordered bustle – totally different to the more chaotic nature of the places we had left. It was just as hot and sticky though.
We emerged in the centre with its familiar mixture of old colonial buildings and new skyscrapers. We were heading for the Peak and were keen to do it the traditional way on the old funicular but as we were now late the queues were long so we waited in the heat.
We hit the peak where the buzzards circled and looked down at the city. After some lunch we chose the bus to take us back down. It was a crazy ride round the mountainous bends, through tropical greenery with views over the bay, as Ayrton Senna hurtled along throwing us from side to side. A bit more exhilarating than the journey up.
Next stop was the sea and we sampaned around Aberdeen harbour, with the fishing boats and buzzards and a trip out to the brightly coloured floating Jumbo restaurant passing herons eating fish and fishermen showing off their catch. It was hot and sunny.
We ate, drank and walked miles. In the evening it was some amazing Chinese acrobatics and feats of strength and agility. I’m sure one of the guys was completely made of rubber.
Day two in Hong Kong was rather different. It was cloudy with drizzle and had dropped to a freezing 22 degrees requiring many more clothes! What are we going to do back in England? I’m getting used to shorts and T-shirt. We ditched our plans for a reprise of the mighty Buddha at Lantua. It was too misty for a journey of that length. Only slightly daunted we strode forth for further adventures only to valiantly stride straight back – Liz forgot the map and I forgot my underground pass – the wonderful Octopus cards that give you really cheap rides everywhere if you are a senior! So the day started badly. We eventually set off and checked out the serenity of the nunnery again plus a much more boisterous and gaudy temple nearby – the Wong Tai Sin Temple . They seemed to be in the midst of ceremonies and was a hive of activity with incense, prayers and incantations. Even the crested birds and turtles seemed more manic. Wong Tai Sin had gone for a different theme to that of the Nunnery. This was full of fearsome statues, gaudily painted, bright colours and business. Contemplation was not the intent. Perhaps that is why it was more popular.
We walked a hundred miles down Nathan Street, sampled Chinese cuisine and then signed off with a visit to the mist enshrouded waterfront.
We had a day at sea to recover to recover. There were a few Boobies hovering around the boat – quite a rare sight as we had travelled around through tropical seas devoid of life. We were beginning to think every last living thing had been wiped out. It is incredibly sad to think that we are witnessing the last remnants of wildlife. Once these seas and lands were teeming with life. But I am afraid that we’ve been killing everything. Now the wildlife is scant indeed.
We sailed into Manila with the sun painting it a wan early morning orange. What a welcome! There were three fire-ships lined up to give us a squirt as we docked!
Not one but two bands and dance groups were there to greet us again. We are so popular! One was a drum group who pounded out some great rhythms while young psuedowarriors, with hardboard shields and wooden spears, performed an ethnically inspired war dance. The other was mainly made up of young girls on xylophones? – With an array of other interesting instruments with some I’d never seen before. They were excellent and I certainly enjoyed the rhythms they created.
They were guys on stilts, huge paper mache cartoon characters and a huge array of dancers. They were certainly pulling out the stops! I noticed that not all the dancers were really into it though – there were bored looks and whispered asides. Kids will be kids the world over. Performing for tourists can be tedious.
After wandering about through a grimy part of the city marvelling at the strange buses that the locals were jumping off and on. There were armed guards with big guns standing about. But undeterred we wandered off through the back streets where the electricity cables hung in bundles just as with Thailand – a spaghetti of electricity. You just hope that your lines don’t get crossed.
After wandering aimlessly for a while in the gathering heat we decided to purchase the leg power of a local and allow a pedal powered rickshaw to propel the two of us around the old city and show us the sights. He proved adept at weaving in and out of traffic and avoiding ruts. We did our fill of the old city walls, or what was left of it after them after they had been destroyed in the Second World War by the Japanese. Inside the city walls they were filming a movie – it looked like Beauty and the Beast.
The old fort was a ruin but was interesting. It housed tales of martyrs and battles long gone as well as pleasant surrounds with old gates and ponds of water-lilies. The view out across the river gave you a view of the city plus a look into the slums that they did not really want you to see.
The cathedral was interesting and picturesque. It was set on a great little square with the Presidential Palace. By some divine protection, or sheer luck, they seem to have come through the bombing fairly intact.
The Old Church and monastery was very calm and also intact. It always amazes me that the poorer and more destitute the population the more they turn to religion. I think it is the same psychological principle that causes people to turn to gambling. They have hope that some action on their part (prayer or a bet) can make everything perfect. Some hope.
We cycled past the park and river, stopped off at the museum before heading back to the ship for refreshments. The museum gave a glimpse at another life. A mere hundred years ago the place would have been unrecognisable as local Indians went about their business, fishing, harvesting and creating, following their gods and performing their rites. All swept away in the tide of time and the mad rush down the rapids into this overcrowded city. Such a short time ago. All gone. Replaced with what?
Our guide was informative and quite content to let us wander and stay as long as we wanted. We were paying him by the hour!
Talking to Rico (our powerful calved pedlar) it seems that the war on drugs, in which hundreds of thousands had been executed (for a variety of political reasons other than drugs), had done nothing to solve the problem. The people executed were all small-fry – the ones behind it were immune and there was widespread corruption. Same story the world over. Rico proudly told us that, despite being in his early thirties, he was the proud father of seven without apparently seeing any connection of this to the congestion, grinding poverty, squalor and misery all around him. Overpopulation and poverty did not seem to connect in his head. It fills me with dread.
As the sun began to set we were seen off by not one but two very large brass bands and baton twirling girls in a much more American inspired performance.
The Manilans certainly pushed the boat out! Though it was rather strange as we pulled away from the quay and they struck up Auld Langs Syne.
As we left the harbour we sailed close to the slums. They sweltered in the unrelenting heat as a multitude of people tried to eke a living out of very little.
We looked back at Manila as we steamed away. The orange glow of the setting sun gave it a shabby magnificence that belied the dirt, people sleeping on the streets, the rubbish and the rats. We all agreed that it was a fairly typical Eastern city in that respect. There was an interesting raft of colonial left overs (mainly Spanish), a sense of decay, overpopulation and poverty along with some opulent wealth all boiled together in the heat.
We waved goodbye to the locals who had gathered at the end of the quay to wave us off.
We have just crossed the equator heading for Borneo! As usual there is the same silly pageant on deck with people dressed up with seaweed and gowns, covering volunteers with shaving foam and dunking them in the swimming pool. The Captain asked Neptune for permission to cross the equator. It was a farce. Yet it was a farce with a history. At one time, back in the days of yore, this was a solemn ceremony. Sailing was dangerous. The seas could be terrifying as mountainous waves swamped ships and little wooden craft were tossed about like toys. Back then they believed the Gods created the storms and needed pacifying. We see in the Odyssey how sacrifices were made. Back then gods such as Neptune were real. Now, we look back at those beliefs as daft. The ceremony is now ‘a bit of a lark’.
There were amazing feats of creativity on deck as the chef did the most amazing ice carving in no time at all!
We were back into the northern hemisphere. Just 50 days left!
Borneo is hot. 31 degrees!!! We headed off to the local town and boarded the local bus. The locals were extremely friendly and interested in these Westerners joining them, fascinating for us. It was a 30 minute journey, bumping along and hurtling down the roads. Around us was the lush tropical rainforest. We were heading for Banda Seri Begawan – the capital city.
Off the bus we walked along the waterfront looking over to the stilted town and back towards the impressive bridge. Then it was straight off to see the wonders of the Mosque. There was a fantastic reflective water pool in front complete with large colourful tiled ship. As mosques go it was a beautiful example. They build to impress and Muslim architecture, ceramics and abstract art is extremely beautiful.
The next stop was the stilted water village. We took a local boat and he took us round the village, out to the mangrove swamp, complete with crocodile, and over to the Royal Palace. The village was extensive with stilted hospital, schools, fire-station and police station.
Back on land we headed for the shopping mall to cool off with air-conditioning and a local cinnamon and honey ice-drink with tapioca – very different.
Refreshed we set off to check out the Chines Temple. The gruesome warriors, demons and gaudy red, blue and gold, bells, dragons, drums, idols, incense and bonsai trees all part of the rich pageant. It all goes into the rich tapestry of religion. You have to wonder at what people believe.
Hot, and sweaty again we headed back to the boat on the local bus.
Quite a day!!
Off somewhere else tomorrow!! Just have to plan a five-course meal in the restaurant for today. It’s a hard life but we’re not wilting yet!!
It was a novel way to be leaving Sydney as the forked smoking stack slid under the harbour bridge, seemingly grazing the metal struts, like the flukes of a giant metallic whale. The gloom of the clouds threatened a tropical storm and the Opera House was already lit up as we glided past. It looked atmospheric in the heavy light.
We were loose.
We were consumed by the ritual of the voyage, reading, exercising and eating, writing, watching the sea slide by and peering into the infinity of ocean that surrounded us. At night we gave ourselves over to the throb of the screws and the lethargic yawing, pitching, rolling and staggering of the ship. We rocked and rolled to a physical lullaby.
To our left the shores of NSW slowly rose and fell on the horizon as a low smudge of hills looking so low against the immense sea that it was easy to imagine it being inundated.
Already we have stocked up our Vit D batteries and are about to explode. We are restraining ourselves with fortitude in the face of mountains of victuals and ethanoic concoctions.
Two days cruising the Gold Coast like Cook before (though I bet he did not have the luxuries or company we have) and then we strike shore to invade Hamilton Island!
We crashed straight through the Great Barrier Reef (we have a few fragments in our cabin) to ensconce ourselves among the rich kids regatta at the yacht club but soon headed off into the bush for secret pebble coves overhung with tropical Queensland flora. It was forty plus degrees (hot enough to boil eggs) and humidity was 130% so, dripping sweat and with limited water, we set off up the mountain of Passage Peak with superb views of the Whitsunday islands (should have been the Whitmondays but Cook didn’t put the clocks forward). Dehydrated and scorched we tramped back through forests of grass ferns to the nearest bar and stocked up on fluids.
After a beer and lunch we boarded a bus and headed off to town. It was pleasant enough but away from the hinterland it felt like a rick kids playground with buggies and jet-skies.
A week after we left a hurricane came through and flattened it.
