Being a West Australian I have always been of the opinion that the best coast is the west coast, however exploring the south coast of Australia in the last few days has invited me to question this assumption and has given me a greater appreciation of the south’s answer to our wild and barren yet beautiful western side of the vast nation i call home.
First stop along the coast was the Royal National Park, located just outside of Sydney, this bush was reminiscent of my grandparent’s farm where march flies and muddy creeks are commonplace. The type of country you imagine when someone tells you they have ‘gone bush’ for a bit.
We continued further south, to a place which more closely resembles something from the teletubbies than from a nation renowned for it’s rainless days, Kiama where we met with some old family friends, sharing red wine and walking their dog Misty in the great outdoors, while keeping an eye out for migrating whales. The view from the balcony of their home shows just how varied this magical place is, where the palm trees remind us that where we stand today there once was a rainforrest, and the mountains on the horizon means that night comes quicker and is colder than in the mountainless West.
The next stop was a small place in whoopwhoop called Duras, a beachside town with trees as tall as the giants you were told about as a smallchild. Located just outside of a national park life is slow and simple here and water is collected in tin rain tanks. The beauty of the ocean reminds me that this land is collected to the land i call home, the same water kisses the shores of my home break. It feels familiar, yet worlds away from rugged WA. As always, standing on the beach looking out into the enormity of the ocean serves as a reminder that although my life’s burdens might seem like the ocean, they are just one a few minuscule water particles in a vast expanse of sea.
Travelling alone – why do it?
I like the freedom to drift and float. The freedom from an itinerary. The freedom from someone else’s travel experience expectations. Sometimes what you want out of travel is merely the chance to go about your life some place else for a little while, to break away from the places and people that you associate with every day to allow yourself to reflect on where you are and where you want to be. Continue reading
A most magical place, which I can almost not believe truly exists, except I can assure you it does, as I have visited and taken these two photos. Places like this really do make me in awe of this planet that we live on and all it’s wonders. What astounds me in particular is the colour palette, the emerald green of the glassy lake contrast with the more earthy tones of the surrounding jungle to create a kaleidoscope of bluey-greens which seems almost too saturated to be real life
Location: On board a long haul flight; Point of origin: Perth; destination: London
I have been flying this route basically my whole life, yet the cloud formations and the way the world looks so small – like a mega-legoland city – are yet to lose their alluring sense of wonder.
Every time I flying this distance of thousands of miles, I stare at the clouds and the mountains and the oceans and the city lights, trying to figure out whether my home lies at my point of origin or my destination.
I am starting to think home can not be found in just one place.. Continue reading
My mother has always told me “if you are going to jump off a cliff, don’t tell me until you’ve done it”. So far she has been rather lucky in that department, I am yet to take up basejumping or go skydiving. The one thing which I have done, however, which essentially involves exactly that is to go paragliding.
Recent afternoons have been spent sipping juice in my hammock and reading books. For once, I feel content and on holiday at home. I suppose where I live does not make it too hard – cobalt blue skies, glassy clear ocean at the beaches and an abundance of swimming pools and fresh mangos. The summer months in Australia are almost a constant holiday, and we really are the lucky country in that regard.
One book I have been reading in my hammock is ‘Best of lonely planet travel writing‘. Travel writing is often confined to non-fiction quick guides, about where to stay and what to do in certain destinations.
Although guide books have legitimately saved my life on several occasions, and made me curious to visit different places after perusing them, it really is the personal experiences I have collected from my own travels, and the stories of my friends or other travels that inspire my pressing desire to see as much of this crazy world of ours as possible before my expiration date.
So if you are lucky enough to travel, I urge you to, for the good of everyone around you to think about your experiences and craft them into a narrative, so when you are sitting around the campfire, you have a worthwhile story to tell.
The introduction of the book, written by Tony Wheeler could not illustrate this message in better terms.
Your own experience and someone else’s – travel needs both. We want to go there ourselves, taste the food, ride the buses, crash in the hotel rooms, meet the people. We shove our guidebooks into our daypacks and head off to collide with those events. Then we want the other perspective – how some other traveller reacted to that appalling meal, that nightmare bus ride, that horror-story of a hotel. And did they also have that fleeting midnight encounter? Why didn’t she turn up at the bar the next evening? Will she be there at the next town down the line?
Ios is a magical island where the days are spent jumping off cliffs into the sparkly clear Aegean sea and exploring the island with it’s ragged cliffs and olive groves by quad bike.
During the day the town is peaceful, quite and quaint, you stroll around feeling as if you are in a postcard. However when the sun goes down and the moon comes out, the commotion begins! Continue reading