Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: October 2014

Friday 31 October 2014

Going up the road and back again October 20 to October 27

Well we have endured the death by 1000 airline meals, watched enough movies to last a lifetime, done the mad dash to visit folks back home, dealt with things which have accrued over several months of absence, and finally we are now back on the road again to complete the last leg of our Australia tour. I have to admit that once we arrived home there was a hint of temptation to stay put, but we will be home soon enough so we pushed that temptation to one side.

Once back in Perth (more meals, more movies) we again caught up with family and friends and were reunited with our car and trailer which had been in the loving care of Beth's brother and sister in law. They had survived the three months of our absence very well. One small drama. A stray twig carelessly left across the rubber seal of the trailer's boot by whoever packed it away (not me, surely) meant that much of the torrent rained down upon Perth over winter was ingested into the boot space. Not to worry, the sun shines bright and long in the western spring, so contents were strewn across the nature strip to dry, converting a leafy Cottesloe street to something resembling a jumble sale. Luckily things dried quickly before we could drive down real estate values.

Our first little trip was a short excursion to Ledge Point just north of Perth to fulfil a promise to take our 14 year old nephew Alex camping for the weekend. We chose Ledge Point because it has a beach and there seemed to be plenty of activities like swimming, boating and sand boarding which would appeal to a 14 year old. Alex however had different ideas. In many respects Alex is not quite your average 14 year old boy, but when it comes to eating he brought back memories of the eating machine that was our son from about 10 years of age onwards. Our offers of energetic pursuits were courteously declined, whilst any hint of food offerings were eagerly accepted. No sooner had Alex devoured a monster burger for lunch than he was asking what was for afternoon tea. What would you like for afternoon tea Alex? Another burger would be fine. Whilst we did not accede to a full on 5 meal a day burger regime, we were more lax with calorie counting than would normally be the case and even went so far as to venture beneath the Golden Arches for a meal (if you would call it that). Alex and I had a lovely time, but I think that Beth was feeling a bit bloated by the time were returned him to his parents. During the small interludes between food we did manage to do a bit of sightseeing and window shopping (pets and toys predominately) which was also good fun.

After dropping Alex off we head north again. We did entertain thoughts of returning to Coral Bay to help me face my snorkelling demons again, but instead opted for the closer Shark Bay region. We are playing this leg of our trip pretty much by ear and not planning too far ahead at this stage. After an overnight stop at Geraldton to stock up on food and effect some minor repairs we headed for Denham on Shark Bay where we would stay 3 nights. Denham is a very isolated seaside town which seems to rely heavily upon tourism to survive, and although there were a few people in town whilst we were there, one got the sense that the town was doing it tough. It looked a little frayed around the edges and half the businesses in town were either closed or for sale.

Just 30 Km across the Peron Peninsula from Denham is the Monkey Mia reserve famous for the "wild" dolphin feeding program which takes place there. Beth is quite fond of dolphins, so we were never going to miss this, and a full day is set aside for our visit. There are up to 3 feeding sessions daily, all before 12:00, so we make sure that we get there bright and early so as not to miss the first session. Half the population of Denham not surprisingly seem to have also done the same thing, so there are plenty of people about, but the Rangers are well practised at crowd control and the unruly mob is transformed into an orderly assembly in no time. Feeding of the dolphins here started in the 60s when fisherfolk would feed those who followed the boats in. Dolphins are smart creatures and it did not take long for them to catch on that if you followed the boats in you would get a free feed. Over time of course this morphed into a tourist attraction and needless to say the wild dolphins became dependent upon humans for food and started to behave badly and lose their natural hunting and feeding instinct, with spiralling detrimental impacts of course. To arrest this problem, the department of parks and wildlife took over the feeding program and by carefully limiting the quantities fed to individual dolphins they have managed to ensure that the free feed must be supplemented through natural hunting. A pretty good compromise I think which allows this fantastic interaction to continue with minimal detrimental impact to the wildness of the dolphins.

In actual fact there is really not a lot of interaction between visitors and dolphins. The visitors are lined up close to the water's edge and the feeding takes place about 20 feet further out, so you really are just watching these animals take fish from a ranger, with a handful of visitors chosen at random to come in and feed a fish to a dolphin. It is a wonderful experience nonetheless to watch these beautiful intelligent animals at close quarters. After watching the dolphins eat, we decide we need to do likewise and enjoy some coffee and cake at the nearby resort cafe. This indulgence of course means that we need to walk it off, so we take a lovely walk along the beach for a few kilometres. When we return some time after midday (after dolphin feeding has concluded), the place s almost deserted, which is nice because we have the beach to ourselves. We came to Monkey Mia 15 years ago with our children, and Beth remembers well our son having a beatiful incidental encounter with a dolphin as he swam in the shallows. This of course meant that we needed to don our togs and take a dip on the off chance that 15 years later the same would happen for us. Needless to say nothing of the sort happened. I expected more to be pinched by crabs or to encounter a sea snake, but neither of these happened either, we just had quite a pleasant swim.

Francois Peron National Park lies just north of Denham and extends about 60 kilometres to Cape Peron which although not the western most part of the Australian mainland is pretty close. This park is 4wd access only, and when we ask at the tourist information office what the tracks are like, the response "rough and sandy" causes me to quake with fright. We have forded rivers, climbed over rocks and navigated ribbons of mud in our Jeep, but sand has been carefully avoided to date. The few minor encounters we have had with sand to date have been a bit scary, very little control over where the vehicle is going, but you know if you get it wrong you will either be bogged or flip the car over. Despite our trepidation we venture out, and whilst the driving was certainly shall we say challenging at times, we managed to cover all the tracks in the park, and they were certainly rough, and certainly sandy. Again the Jeep came through with flying colours. The outlook at Cape Peron was outstanding with vivid reds, greens, whites and blues everywhere, and the views from the platform at Skipjack Point down into the shallows to observe the sealife was riveting. We stood and watched turtles, manta rays, sharks and a myriad other fish (no obvious dugongs, no whales and no dolphins unfortunately) for about an hour, then Beth took her turn to tackle sand (which of course she did effortlessly).

We wondered about spending another night at Denham, but decided instead to visit the aquarium on our way out of town and that would probably be enough for this visit. The aquarium was interesting and a nice lazy bit of touristy stuff. We jumped in the car and set off only to realize that we had not really agreed on where we were going. Our initial thought was to head for Mullewa in the wheat belt for any wildflowers that might be remaining, but this was quite a drive, so we were not sure. We decided instead to head to one of our favourite WA locations, the coastal town of Kalbarri on the Murchison River halfway between Shark Bay and Geraldton. We visited and loved Kalbarri on our honeymoon about 30 years ago, and visited again with our children 15 years ago, so if all goes well this time, it is likely that we will be back here in 2029.

Kalbarri is a wonderful location. The town itself, whilst quite nice, is nothing to write home about. The real beauty lies in the river gorges inland and the beautiful wild coastline. We revisited all the sites of 30 years ago, and whilst without exception they are all much more accessible than they were then, they are just as beautiful today. The loop, a 9 km walk on the Murchison River is quite spectacular, as is the Z bend walk down to the river, which involves one of my favourite pastimes, clambering over rocks. There are a series of beautiful coastal sites south of Kalbarri, all easily accessible from the road allegedly. I wouldn't know because Beth determined that taking the coastal cliff top walk between these sites was a better option. We walked almost the entire length (and return) of the 8km Bigurda Trail, and despite my grumbling about the wind (too strong), the sun (too hot), the sand (too soft) and the rocks (too uneven), secretly I was rejoicing because this is one of the more beatiful walks I have encountered anywhere. The cliffs and gorges are magnificent and the ocean crashing into them is just awesome, but even better still was the stunning variety of coastal wildflowers, which caused me to frequently fall well behind Beth as I stopped, admired and photographed. Kalbarri is simply stunningly beautiful. Something as beautiful as this in Europe would draw an ongoing stream of tourists, but for the entire length of the Bigurda Trail, we did not encounter another human being. It is good to be back in Australia.

From Kalbarri we will make our way to Mullewa and whatever wildflowers are left, then slowly wander down through the goldfields.

Dolphins at Monkey Mia

More dolphins at Monkey Mia

Grumpy pelicans also looking for a cheap meal at Monkey Mia

Francois Peron National Park - From Cape Peron

Francois Peron NP - Walking to Skipjack Point

Francois Peron NP - Cormorants on the way to Skipjack Point

Shark Bay - View from Eagles Bluff

Francois Peron NP

Francois Peron NP - View from Skipjack Point

Francois Peron NP - On the way to Skipjack Point

Kalbarri NP - Nature's Window - Murchison River

Kalbarri NP - Z Bend - Descending to the river

Kalbarris NP - Z Bend from the river

Kalbarri NP - Mushroom Rock

Waves at Kalbarri NP

Clifftop walk - Kalbarri NP

Kalbarri NP - Natural Bridge

Kalbarri NP - Sea views from the cliff top

Beth racing the wind - Kalbarri NP clifftop walk

Kalbarri NP

Wildflower collage - Kalbarri NP

Saturday 25 October 2014

The homeward stretch 17 Sept to 6th Oct

Our final walking trip for this European holiday is following in the footsteps of loopy King Ludwig II of Bavaria, who we keep getting told died in mysterious circumstances, but it seems obvious to us that he was an embarrassment (gay and eccentric) who was sending the country broke with his excesses, so he was popped off in a way that was meant to look like suicide. It seems that Ludwig enjoyed walking the lakes areas in Bavaria around his chosen (and final) home of Neuschwanstein castle near Füssen, and our 6 day walk takes us from Lake Starnberg (where he apparently drowned), along the King Ludwig Way to Füssen, a distance of about 100km over gently undulating landscape. A pleasant stroll to finish up with.

We arrive in Starnberg (on the shores of the Starnbergersee) fairly early in the afternoon and with reasonably good weather, so decide to take a cruise on the lake out to the place 6km from Starnberg where Ludwig met his maker (the official start of the KLW) and to then walk back to Starnberg. The cruise was for two hours and took us right to the bottom of this beautiful (and quite large) lake before bringing us back to Leoni on the northeast shore. We pay our respects at the cross which marks the spot of Ludwig's demise and then admire the chapel raised in his memory. Our notes tell us that this is a small monument, but it certainly looks pretty big and impressive to me. The walk back into Starnberger is very pleasant as we watch the sun setting behind the lake.

Our first full day of walking takes us from Starnberger to Herrsching and then across the Ammersee to Diessen. The day starts off most inauspiciously with the heaviest rains we have encountered so far in this European adventure. Wet weather gear was pressed into service, but was no match for the torrent sent down upon us, and 10 km in to a 25 km walk and we were drenched. Oh well, nothing for it but to plod onwards. Happily there was no further rain and we were able to enjoy some lovely rural landscapes and farming villages as we dried off. The KLW roughly follows both The Romantic Road and a variation of The Pilgrim's Way, and so although apart from the memorial chapel at the start there seem to be very few indications that "Ludwig Wos Ere", there is plenty for us to see, including the first of many magnificent baroque churches that we would happen upon over the next week, the Andechs monastery which marked the high point (altitude wise) of the day. Although this walk is largely through farmlands, there is also quite a bit of forest traversed, and from Andechs to Herrsching we pass through the first of these which was very pleasant and quite interesting. Again these forests tease us with just a hint of Autumn colours. At Herrsching we grab some lunch, bratwurst of course from a lakeside market stall, then catch the last ferry across the Ammersee to Diessen.

Finding our hotel at Dieesen was quite easy, but getting in was another matter entirely. We circled the place several times but could not find an open door. This, together with the very unlived in look of the hotel made our hearts sink and thoughts of a park bench for the night flashed through our minds. We were just starting to look for phone numbers to call when I noticed a doorbell and intercom hidden around a secret corner. I pressed the button, and in a little while a gruff voice responded. He didn't exactly say "who dares disturb my slumber", but that seemed to be the tone. I replied quite meekly that I thought we had a reservation, upon which his tone improved and he said he would be down in a little while. A very strange man and a very strange hotel, but he didn't mention his mother so i guess he was no Norman Bates, and our room was actually quite nice, so all's well that ends well. In fact we had a lovely experience that very evening at that very hotel. Although we had fears about getting back into the hotel if we ventured out, our hungry stomachs forced us to be bold, but when we got downstairs we found the doors flung open and the hotel restaurant operating at full tilt. A real surprise given that the place looked derelict just a couple of hours before. We decided to eat in and were ushered to our table by a terse young German waitress who flung the menus onto our tables. We had become accustomed to German only menus and thought we had learnt the key words to identify a safe dish to order, but this menu was complex and way beyond our comprehension. We did not have a clue and our terse waitress was by now hovering over us asking (I think) in German whether we were ready to order. Beth was about to order the only meal she recognised (schnitzel I think), but thankfully the waitress could see our distress, and in very clumsy English she said she would come back in a little while. It gave us breathing space but did not solve our problems and the sight of our waitress returning brought on a cold sweat. But instead of demanding our order, she sat down beside us and spent the next half hour explaining the menu in hilariously bad English which she was clearly enjoying practicing. It was a lovely gesture which delighted and entertained us, and we had a fantastic meal. Pork medallions with pfifferlings (Google it) and the most amazing dumplings for me, and roast pork and vegetables for Beth.

Diessen is a lovely old lakeside town which allegedly has wonderful views to the alps, 50 km or so to the south. Unfortunately grey and hazy conditions conspired against us enjoying those views. Our notes are a constant source of anguish. Because this is our longest days walking there is a suggestion that we should head out at 9:00 straight after breakfast, which seemed to make sense. But they also suggest that a visit to the magnificent Marienmunster 10 minutes along the way is not to be missed. What they do not tell us is that this seems to be the only cathedral in Europe which locks its doors and does not open until 11:00am, when we will be far, far away. Our walk today takes us through forest and farmlands over a hill to Hohenpeissienberg. The hill we cross is the highest point in the walk, and the church and observatory on top of the hill are visible to us from the minute we leave Diessen, but it takes us the best part of 5 hours to get there, and again our notes let us down by taking us up through a very steep forest devoid of any discernible tracks and then through a cow dung minefield to reach the top of the hill. The downhill to our lodgings was quite pleasant though. More strange accommodation. Again with no obvious way to get into what appeared to be someone's home, and the adjacent pub did not open for another 2 hours. As we were scratching our heads at what seemed to be the front door a little old lady popped her head out and ushered us in. Comfortable enough, but peculiar.

From Hohenpeissenberg we have a relatively short walk to Rottenbuch, not to be confused with Rothenburg (or even Rothenbuch for that matter). This village is much smaller, with its only real claim to fame being another magnificent baroque house of God, the Rottenbuch Abbey. Interesting walking today, still covering rural scenery, little churches and little farming villages which have been our staple, but also some beatiful old forests and steep exposed sections along the walls of the Ammer gorge. Spectacular, but the signs along the way suggesting this was Germany's Grand Canyon were perhaps overstating things a bit. All this walking through forests has led me to regret my poor mental diction as a young man. I can clearly remember one birthday making a wish and blowing out all the candles. I thought nothing of it when I didn't become the chick magnet I wished to be. But clearly those responsible for granting wishes misread me, and although they were probably bemused by my wish, they granted me tick magnetism. It seems that these pesky little critters love me. Beth seems to wander through the woods unscathed, but I always seem to pick up two or three ticks along the way. Luckily they aren't the daintiest of insects and you can generally feel them crawling and remove them well before they start burrowing in. Next birthday I was thinking of wishing for a new job, but I don't think I will, because I am worried about ending up with a nude yob.

One interesting aspect of this walk has been the Bavarian maypoles which seem to appear in every town. Sometimes in the churchyard, sometimes in private homes and sometimes outside of public buildings or in market squares. These poles, which apparently are hoisted annually amid pomp and ceremony before the first of May vary enormously in size and grandeur, but follow the same basic theme with the lower part depicting either through painted images or placards the various crafts of the region, and the upper part of the pole decorated in the blue and white colours of the Bavarian flag. Evidently it is good sport in these parts, and seen as a jolly jape to steal neighbouring villages maypoles and demand a ransom (generally copious quantities of beer and food) for their safe return. Poles are meant to be lowered some time after May Day, but most that we saw did not look like they had been out of the ground for years. I suspect that the celebrations still happen, but the effort required to manhandle these monsters is avoided.

Accommodation in Rotttenbuch is relatively normal, and although there are signs on the door indicating the establishment was closed for the day, we soon found someone who was expecting us and showed us to our room. Interestingly, in this small town in the heart of Bavaria where you would expect the only food offerings to involve sausage and sauerkraut, the only place serving food was a small Italian restaurant, so pizza it was. It is amazing how consistent and predictable Italian food is the world around.

Throughout Germany, regardless of age or class of hotel, all windows we have encountered have been double glazed to reduce heat loss and block out external noise, so it was quite surprising to us that here in Rottenbuch we could clearly hear everything that was happening outside. It seemed that for some reason this hotel had chosen not to double glaze. Not such a big deal we thought, until we realized that the Rottenbuch Abbey monks obviously found it important to be audibly and vigorously informed of the time every quarter hour of the day (and night), and the Rottenbuch town captains clearly thought it important to maintain this noisy tradition. Apart from hearing bells toll 48 times, I slept very well that night. Sadly, a morning inspection of the glazing revealed quality double insulation, but also that somebody had left one of these quality fittings ajar (what a troublesome chap is old Somebody) Grrrr.

Our penultimate day of walking takes us to Trachgau via the famous Weis cathedral. We didn't quite realize it was famous until we arrived to see it swarming with tourists and surrounded by souvenir shops. We are told that this is considered the finest baroque church in all of Germany, which perhaps it was, but it seemed not quite so charming as others we had seen. Perhaps the tourists were a distraction. We moved on quickly from Weis through another enchanting forest on a path lined with broad planks to stop us sinking into the mossy bog beneath, then through more meadows and gorgeous pine forests (including a bush bashing detour to skirt a fallen tree - which of course meant more ticks for me!!!) to our hotel in Trachgau, where I enjoyed the finest red sauerkraut I had ever tasted. I asked our host (and also our waiter), who through earlier interactions gave us the impression that he was something of a smart Alec with a distaste for Britons (which he considered us to be), what was in this tasty dish. His glib reply of "red cabbage" confirmed that he was indeed a smart Alec of the highest order. We later found out that apple juice and cinnamon are often used with red cabbage. I think that these were the key to its yumminess.

I had been developing something of a cold for a few days and it reached its full beauty just in time for our last day of walking to King Ludwig's base at Fussen, but I decided to bravely soldier on (without Codral) nonetheless. Some people say that bed rest is best for a cold, whilst others say sweating it out is the answer. I am more inclined toward the latter, but I suspect that my attitude is more to do with denial than therapy. Try as I might to enjoy what was a very pleasant walk, snorting, sneezing and shedding tears did somewhat get in the way of that enjoyment, and when rain threatened about halfway through, Beth decided to reduce my misery by taking some short cuts. This meant we missed visiting Neuschwanstein Castle, but we had done that back in July, so no big deal.

We have two nights at Fussen, theoretically giving us time to enjoy all that it has to offer, but Beth also succumbed to the cold, so we were not very energetic at all. Our hotel at Fussen really made up for the weird places we had enjoyed for much of this tour. Quite swish and comfortable, which is just what the doctor ordered for a couple of miserable sickies. Whilst at dinner we bumped into a 70 something Australian couple and started chatting. The wife was actually German and had moved to Australia after marrying, and it seems they were in Germany for a reunion of sorts. We exchanged pleasantries and wished each other well. We managed to drag ourselves out of our room the next day, but resolved to take it easy by walking gently a few kilometres to the boat harbour by the lake and then taking a relaxing boat trip in the shadow of Neuschwanstein. When we got on board the boat, who should we spy but our friends from the night before, who invited us to sit with them. Despite our miserable colds we had a lovely time. Next morning at breakfast as we were eating (and feeling quite a bit better) our friends wandered in. She looked a million dollars (a 1970s air hostess, so not surprising - remember when tall, slim, attractive and preferably blond was ok as job selection criteria), but he looked a mess. I was very concerned that we had passed on our cold, but in fact his state was from overindulgence at the reunion the previous night. Phew!!

Whilst on the subject of alcohol abuse, it is probably necessary for me to admit to succumbing to the demon drink. Since returning to Bavaria I have become fond of weissbier. It has been my drink of choice at dinner for no reason other than it is cheaper than water and easy to order, and it has somewhat grown on me (I can even see where it has grown!!). Rest assured though there will be no need for AA when I get home, this is a passing fondness and my addiction to coffee and cake, which has been amply fed in Germany is more likely to require treatment.

From Fussen we head back to Munich for a few days and finally get a nice clear day so we can visit the Zugspitze (highest point in Germany), then spend a relaxing weekend in Vienna ahead of flying home. We have had a lovely time again in Europe, but three months is probably long enough, so home we go. Somebody once said the reason you travel is to come home again, and I can sort of relate to that. I love travelling and hope to continue doing it forever, but I also have a home that I love and which is the standard by which I judge everything I encounter in my travels. So why wouldn't I love coming home as well?

When we return to Australia we will spend a week or so at home catching up with people and things (Beth has even organised a hairdressers appointment), then we will return to Perth and pick up our car and trailer. Farm there we have no set plans other than to be back in Melbourne before Christmas. I am sure that plans will evolve soon, we are not accustomed to living on the fly. My Blog will go into recess now until we are on the road again. Until then.....