Dr Jim's Periglobal Perambulations

Kia Orana!

If there was a third world war, with nukes raining down all over the place, or if some cataclysmic plague struck the world, wiping out everyone it infected, I expect that The Cook Islands would be the best place to be. A 3 and a half hour flight from Auckland, it lies almost diametrically on the other side of the world to the UK. The closest place is Tahiti, which is tiny and remote too. It is thousands of miles from anywhere of any significance, but really quite comfortable. Look at a map of the Pacific ocean and you won’t see the Cook’s unless they are labelled. They are a myriad of tiny coral atolls and volcanic islands set amid a vast expanse of deep, remorseless and occasionally violent ocean. Whilst it’s a tourist destination, mercifully few people get here, and if they do they are usually attending a wedding. The main island is called Rarotonga. There is one road going round it and it takes about 40 minutes to putter around on a scooter. There are two buses. One goes clockwise. The other anticlockwise. There is one town, which is scarcely even a town. One airport, where a man with a Ukulele plays to you as you arrive and people put garlands around your neck. Everyone is smiling, because there really is nothing to be unhappy about here. The temperature never drops below 23C and never goes above about 34C. It rains enough to keep everything green, but not enough to be a nuisance. The wind blows a little, but not too much. There are no poisonous insects, no dangerous animals. Even the dogs are well looked after by a foundation that provides free neutering. Fish teem in the waters around the island. The waves break over the coral atolls with myriads of tropical fish as the sun sets fire to the sea and you sit under a palm tree with a beer. It’s the antithesis to London, and that’s the only problem; you are thousands of miles away from a city and all its particular amenities. But that suited me just fine. Welcome to the Cook Islands. 15 islands, 240 square kilometres of land, spread over 1,800,000 square kilometres of sea. Paradise on earth for a city boy who has a secret desire to be away from everyone, and everything. I’ve never felt so content.

Spots of land in an acre of blue remoteness

Rarotonga, the largest of the Cook Islands

I booked in to one of only three hostels on Rarotonga, or Raro as it is affectionately known. Called Vara's beach house. Appropriately named. The dorm looked out over the deck. The warm wind blew softly through the window as I drifted off to sleep on the night I arrived. And this was the view I woke up to. When you wake up to a view like this, for £10 a night, why on earth would you want to be anywhere else?

Sunrise over Muri beach lagoon, Rarotonga, Cook Islands

If you look carefully at some of the photos you will see the different hues of blue appear slightly pixellated and rough. It looks like I've enhanced the photos or something. I promise you I haven't. The place really looks like this and I don't think the camera was designed to capture images like this. You've never seen blues, azures and aquamarines like it. A jewel box of iridescence.

Muri beach lagoon with the fishing boat for the Moorings café

The warm, azure waters of the coral atolls around Rarotonga

It's just so gob smackingly gorgeous that you have to pinch yourself regularly. Was it a dream? Am I writing this six months after getting home because I need to again remind myself of the reality that this place exists? Possibly, although the time lag can be more explained by the quite profound apathy I've suffered since coming home. And who could be surprised? To go from this, and over a year off work, back to the grind (and the wettest winter in living memory) is an emotional shock and no mistake. But enough of that. I want to focus on the memory of this place. This nirvana, this bliss, this shangri-la, this heaven. It gets even better. On Aitutaki. But you'll have to scroll down for that. I won't take long to get there because I didn't do very much on the Cook Islands apart of sunbathe, snorkel and scuba dive. All are sublime. The food here is generally fish, fish and more fish. Wahoo, Tuna and Mahi Mahi. All delicious. All freshly caught that day and cooked in front of you.

A boxfish

Sunset, Rarotonga

Zebrafish

A Clam

A shoal of Convict Surgeons

Old rigger ship setting sail for Palmerston

Avarua market

Muri beach, Rarotonga

The Clockwise bus, Rarotonga

But wait. It gets better. The teardrop shaped island of Aitutaki. About 3 miles long and a mile or so wide. Ensconced in a lagoon that, even from a satellite image, you can see is going to be pretty special. And it is. Everything on Aitutaki is special. This is by far and away the most beautiful place I have ever had the privilege of visiting. I stayed here for about 5 or 6 days. They blend into each other. I made friends with a kitten, who stayed in my beach hut with me. I scuba dived, kayaked, snorkelled and took a day trip out on the lagoon, which will live with me for the rest of my life. Never have I seen such natural beauty. I always thought those photoshopped pictures you see of beaches with palm trees surrounded by a crystal clear azure lagoon, must have been just that, photoshopped. Not here they aren't. And you can get decent food, booze and coffee here too. The people are friendly. Everything is relaxed and peaceful. It has everything you would ever need for a dream, desert island holiday. It was pure bliss, stunning in every element, and I absolutely fell in love with it. I'll be back.

To end on this, such a high, was a privilege indeed. It reminded me a little of the stunning beach we found in Madagascar just a few days after setting off from the UK. There are times on this trip when the going has been very hard. Times when it has been blissful, and times where it has been something in-between. This was definitely blissful and now I'll let the photos show you how utterly amazing this place is. It is truly paradise on earth and it marks the end of my year of periglobal peregrinations. Long planned, much anticipated, and thoroughly enjoyed. I never thought it would actually happen when I started planning it, still less that I would emerge at the other end unscathed and far richer (metaphorically) than I could've imagined. It's a phenomenal experience. I would say the most unique and special series of events in my life so far. You miss your loved ones. But you treasure every day. And I treasure the memories now; of which, I hope, this blog will form the backbone of as the years trickle by, and the dance of perceptions in my mind slip beneath the surface of conscious recollection. I hope you enjoyed reading this. And apologies for taking so long to write the last bit. It's hard coming home after a trip like this, and I actually found writing about it almost impossible for the first six months after I got back. In retrospect that's understandable, and it underlines what this trip really was for me- a journey through a myriad of landscapes, a myriad of people and a myriad of emotions. And, most importantly I suppose, the meanings tucked in-between them. It is quite a thing, I feel, to be alive.

;-)

Aitutaki island and lagoon

Aitutaki lagoon, Ootu beach

A tiny hermit crab

Ootu beach, Aitutaki

Sunset, Aitutaki

Big hermit crab

Not much activity here

My room mate. Paradise Cove. Aitutaki.

Aitutaki lagoon

A giant clam, Aitutaki lagoon

Aitutaki lagoon

Scuba diving. Aitutaki.

A sea slug. Aitutaki.

Aitutaki lagoon. Just stunning. In every way.

Aitutaki lagoon

A satellite island at the southern end of Aitutaki lagoon

Probably one of the best places to kite surf in the world.

I know I'm going on about this place, but....

Ootu beach. Aitutaki.

Sunset......

Leaving south east Asia we both lamented that the 'proper' travelling was seemingly over. It was back to a diet of Western food, Western values and Western society. And Western prices. There has been no recession in Asia and this has broadly been reflected by Australia fast becoming the most expensive country in the world.

Quite

Starting in the sub tropical city of Cairns, we were already thinking about time. It was going to be a whistle-stop tour, partly because of the cost of being in the place, and partly because the end of our trip, or at least the flights back to London were looming. Cairns was not a particularly noteworthy place for me. It has nothing that distinguishes it from any other small scale city aside from its proximity to the great barrier reef, which we paid an exorbitant amount of money to dive the day after we arrived. This was one of my 'must do' experiences before I set off, but in the end it was a bit disappointing. We were treated a bit like a production line on the boat, which would have been OK if it weren't for the fact that the actual diving wasn't that great either. I think we were unlucky with the weather or any number of other factors, which was a shame. The Cook Islands and Thailand were better.

We were bound for Brisbane, Sydney and then Melbourne, all on a hop-on hop-off bus. Many overnight bus journeys to be endured. Thankfully we had sedatives. Travelling is very easy in Australia, to the extent that there's an entire industry set up around it. That's ok, and for the crowds of 18-25 year olds we met en route I expect it is reassuring, but us (and I have my tongue firmly in my cheek here) 'seasoned' travellers probably find it a bit dull. There's little that can go wrong and little to really plan. The hostels do it all for you. First stop was the Whitsunday Islands via a visit to Airlee Beach and our sail boat the 'Waltzing Matilda'. This was an awesome experience for me. I love sailing and spending a couple of days buzzing around the many islands that make up the Whitsundays was pleasant and refreshing. The main attraction here is the view from Turtle point, down on to the sweeping aquamarine waters and beach, which make for a pretty sweet photo.

Turtle Point, Whitsunday Islands

Stinger suits. I ended up taking it off. Just seems a bit ridiculous going in the sea with one of those on.

Then a swim in the sea, donning a 'stinger suit' before getting in the water, which is meant to protect you from potentially lethal jellyfish stings. The Aussies love making unwitting tourists believe that their country is full of predatory flora and fauna whose prime purpose in life is to kill or seriously harm you. The problem with this is that it is partly true. 70% of all lethal-to-human species reside in Australia so there is a higher than average risk at a basic level. But having written this after leaving, I didn't at any time see anything remotely dangerous.

A few snorkelling trips and long boat ride later we were deposited back on the shore at Airlee beach and onto the bus that wended its way down overnight to Hervey Bay, which is the jump off point for Fraser Island. This island is one of the world's largest sand islands. It's pretty big. And pretty sandy too. It's easiest to visit by a pre-arranged tour. The roads all being sand, four wheel drive vehicles are essential, and even then you need some experience to drive them. Thankfully we were driven by a man who probably stood out as one of the defining characters of the Australia trip. I can't actually remember his real name. I probably never knew it. He is called, variously by the different groups of people he takes around the island, Santa, Gimli son of Gloin, or Gandalf. Great character. Absolutely no shame or reserve. He must be in his sixties I guess, with all the lack of reticence that age can bestow. He does what he likes, and he likes what he does. Which involves copious quantities of booze, and a passable impression of a digeridoo. So, the night of our tour on Fraser Island turned into a momentous piss up, primarily driven by what the Aussies call 'goon', but which we could call, unimaginatively, boxes of cheap wine. Wine, I guess, is one of the few things that is reasonably priced here. I'm sure you could fairly cheaply drink yourself to death here, which as it turns out is a problem in modern day Australia. Especially on goon, which tastes remarkably similar to the stuff in bottles but costs half as much. Anyway we got drunk on it. Some of us more than others…!

An adventure though Fraser island is, it's not the knock-out destination the Whitsundays are. We saw some dingos, which looked like wild dogs, and went for a swim in one of the lakes formed from rainwater. Took some pretty pictures and went for a swim in the champagne pool, which is a rock pool over which the waves send their spume (yes, spume) at the right point of the tide, making the surface bubbly and frothy like champagne. And some weird seaweed that spurted water if you pressed it. A few more sub-tropical rainforest walks and some time spent wading down a freshwater stream and it was time to head back across on the ferry, whose only permanent resident is an old and bad tempered cat who is there to catch the rats. I liked him/her.

Santa and the gang, Fraser Island

A dingo, Fraser Island

Onwards to Brisbane and to stay with a friend we had met in Cape Town. All hail Beaver, and his awesome Grandma Ailsa, who fed us and sheltered us for the best part of a week. Sometimes when you're travelling it's nice just to stop for a while and be in one place. It helps you recover your sense of identity a bit, which I found tended to slip away as we went from one place to the next to the next to the next etc. A strange feeling really. I think the constant change makes your brain take a step back, or at least forces it into a different mode where only the most immediate priorities get processed. Whereas back in the UK with all the familiarity of that, my head seems to work a bit better...no not better...just different.

Brisbane is a proper city. In some ways it feels like London, just not on the same scale (and with much warmer weather). The river winding through the city is quite like the Thames and they even have a riverside area that is similar to the South Bank in London, with it's own slightly smaller ferris wheel. A beautiful botanical garden, some panorama shots, koalas, kangaroos, a catchup with one of Ro's antipodean friends and a visit to the lacklustre Surfer's paradise, and we were off down to Byron bay.

I think if I lived anywhere in Aus it would have to be here, or somewhere like it. The feel is different. More relaxed, less frenetic. A gentrified hippy feel. We celebrated Ro's birthday by going skydiving, which I've done before but which is always an amazing experience. It's the first bit, when your tandem sky diver rolls with you out of the plane and you tumble over in the air and look up and the plane looks like it is dropping away from you, rather than the reverse. A sensational feeling, and then coming into the free fall position, arms out, legs back, torso towards the earth, plummeting down but with no sign, other than the air slamming into your face, to indicate that you are actually falling. I think the free fall only lasts a minute or so, then the parachute is pulled and you spend 10 minutes or so gliding down to earth, and a sense of relief. The relief is a bit superfluous though; you aren't in any particular danger. My instructor had been doing it 10 times a day for the last 17 years. What a trooper. Stunning scenery. Great experience. Over before breakfast. Expensive (very). Worth it though. No pictures for me this time, but just to whet your appetite here's some from when I skydived in Wanaka in New Zealand in 2003.

Byron Bay

Straight on down to Sydney. I've been here before. It's a pulsing, thriving metropolis with lots going on. Ro's friend Minea put us up for a few nights (thank you) and showed us some sights. Manly, the opera house, the powerhouse museum, Palm beach and a visit to the drag act hotel which inspired the film Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (the drag act wasn't up to scratch unfortunately). Anyone could live in Sydney I suppose. It’s very inoffensive and pleasant. But, like many places in Aus for me, just not that inspiring. I really don’t want to do the place down, but it just feels a lot of the time like America, but not the interesting America on the East coast. More the self-satisfied but ultimately rather empty America that tends to predominate further west…or maybe I was just in a bad mood. It’s the second time I’ve been to Aus though, and I did feel this before…I’ll probably end up living there. Such are the ironies of life.

Generic Opera House shot

Les Girls. At least she did it, and did it her way.

And then down to the final stop Melbourne, which is more my style I guess. More European. A bit more quirky. A bit more genuine attitude. A lot more style. And a lot chillier too. We kitted ourselves out with jeans, fleeces and trainers. The first time I have needed a pair of jeans or a pair of shoes since about June 2011. That’s a thought. My feet have been in the open air for nearly a year. And they don’t smell. Odd that.

Melbourne

And then off across the pond to New Zealand, flying into Auckland for a few days before setting off in a hire car around the North Island. New Zealand is best described as nature on steroids. The greens are greener, the blues bluer, the air clearer, the mountains snowier, the water deeper, the hills...hillier. Driving around this place is like being on some sort of fairground ride with amazing views. In terms of sheer jaw-dropping natural beauty moments per unit time travelled, I don't think New Zealand can be beaten. Not by anywhere I've been anyway. I could live here, but it would mean being 12,000 miles away from everything and everyone that means so much to me. It is an amazing place, stunning to a degree unrivalled, and I hope passionately that it stays that way. There are 3 million people in New Zealand now, which doesn't sound much, except that it's a 50% increase since I was here a little over 10 years ago. So we'll see.

The photos speak for New Zealand, more than my prose ever could. We visited the Coromandel peninsula, hot water beach and wanganui before deciding to split up for a while. I went up to Cape Reinga to revisit a place I'd fallen in love with 10 years before, and Ro flew off to the South Island, where it was now mid-winter, and since I'd been there before I decided I preferred to spend an additional week at what, for me, was the destination of destinations and somewhere I have wanted to go for a very long time, the Cook Islands in the South Pacific. The final destination, but still 12,000 miles from home.