Missing the Drop

The Green Book

2008-01-26T16:41:00.000Z

A handful of photos from Libya's coast. Well worth a visit.

2008-01-26T16:40:00.000Z

2008-01-26T16:39:00.000Z

2008-01-26T16:38:00.000Z

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2008-01-26T16:34:00.002Z

2008-01-26T16:34:00.001Z

2008-01-26T16:34:00.000Z

2008-01-26T16:33:00.000Z

30 months on

2007-11-04T12:25:00.000Z

So after two and a half years, I thought it was about time I posted something. Travel isn't so prevalent these days, so here's a pic of when Jonny Wilkinson popped round for tea....

TGS

2007-11-04T12:22:00.000Z

2005-10-15T18:39:00.000+01:00

Tourist guide shot

2005-10-15T18:38:00.001+01:00

Junk

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More junk

2005-10-15T18:37:00.000+01:00

Timber

2005-10-15T18:35:00.000+01:00

Local speciality

2005-10-15T18:34:00.001+01:00

Tat

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Every day's a Friday

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Lady and the lake

2005-10-15T18:32:00.000+01:00

Local communications

2005-10-15T18:31:00.000+01:00

The band played on

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Vladimir

2005-10-15T18:28:00.000+01:00

Borsch

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House

2005-10-15T18:24:00.000+01:00

Fancy a drink?

Siberia

2005-08-15T19:24:00.000+01:00

We arrived in Irkutsk around 07.00 on a very bright and very cold morning - noticeably much colder than Ulan Baator. I had been looking forward to our stopover here as we had one night in Irkutsk itself - once dubbed the Paris of the east - and then one night at the 'unique' Lake Baikal, one of the natural wonders of the world. I guess I should really have learnt by this stage not to launch in anywhere with any type of expectations, as you only end up disappointed...................

So firstly Irkutsk. It was a miracle we got out of there before being overtaken with the urge to slash our wrists. The main pastime during the day is drinking in the streets and, for the girls, dressing like ladies of the night. The main pastime during the night is, er, the same. In between this everyone finds time to smoke and be rude to tourists - and probably eachother, for that matter. Things hadn't got off to a great start when I had a disagreement with the local rep over how much money he was getting. Still, we won that contest so it could have been worse. Then the hotel was, quite frankly, pony. And this was all before the sightseeing we had to do.......which last approximately 40 minutes. Not because we cut it short, but because that was how long the sum total of the sights - a crooked house, a closed church and a polluted river. Not all disaster though, as we found somewhere that did very good Borsch, and were then entertained by a brass brand. Still, I was comforting myself with the fact that we still had Lake Baikal and a home stay to look forward to.

Lake Baikal - the largest lake on earth, holding 23,000km cubed of water (that's one fifth of world's freshwater, fact fans) which is more than all of America's great lakes put together. It's 636km long, which is the distance between Moscow and St. Petersburg. The water's so clear you can see 40 yards through it. And 80% of it's flora and fauna isn't found anywhere else in the world. It was just a shame that the village we stayed in doubled up as a municipal tip. As for the home stay, well, the less said about that the better. I see why Siberians drink a lot of Vodka.

Into Irkutsk; with three dice

2005-08-15T15:56:00.000+01:00

So back on the train, heading towards Russia. What with so many stories of friendly natives, great food and knockout service, we just couldn't wait to roll in. But before that, we had two nights on the train, across Siberia. We were reunited with our train spotter friends who were in the cabin on one side of us, and on the other side were aforementioned Val and Michael. Val wasted no time in informing us of all of her opinion on, well, everything. This included her views on environmental protection after some random punter had chucked a load of cardboard out of the window. To be fair to the guy, he was merely adhering to the local customs. I doubt very much there's much money made from landfill sites in Siberia, as everything is just deposited across the countryside.

We were leaving Mongolia in the late afternoon, and the first expected excitement for this leg of the trip was crossing the border into Russia. When applying for visas for Russia one has to stipulate the date of entry. This should, of course, be quite straightforward but owing to the fact that I'd calculated that we would be approaching the border somewhere around midnight, it was with a little trepidation that we pulled out of Ulan Baator. And the word 'calculate' shouldn't be taken lightly either - my estimation was based on 'reversing' an eastbound timetable, translating the Moscow time departure time into local time, allowing for crossing a couple of time zones en route, and finally adding a bit extra on to allow for getting from the last town on the timetable to the border itself. Simple really. Anyway, the upshot of all that was that I'd decided we'd be entering Russia after midnight.

As it turned out I needn't have worried as the border crossing took a matter of ten hours to negotiate. We did indeed approach it close to midnight, but we spent two hours getting through the Mongolian border post. Then we had a nice six hour stretch sitting marooned in no-man's land, so by the time we actually crossed through the Russian border post it was comfortably the next morning. And all through this time you're not allowed to leave the carriage and, rather less than conveniently, the toilets are locked. Now for us who had planned ahead and stopped taking fluids on some eight hours in advance, this wasn't too much of a problem. Though it was for two Australians who were having a hernia trying to keep their legs crossed. Shame. And it was all too much for Val too, who's writing to the European Court of Human Rights about it, or something.

So after such excitement the rest of the journey was fairly low key. A few games of cribbage with Guy the 'railway enthusiast', the trading of wine for cheese with the other train spotters, and Michael introducing me to the world of Sudoku. Little did I know that this was the craze sweeping the nation back home. And after attempting a couple, I can safely say I'll be leaving that bandwagon to Wylie and co.

Outta Outer

2005-07-12T11:33:00.000+01:00

So, after spending all our togrogs (actually, still got 15 left in anyone fancies them) we headed to the station ready for the next stage in our train ride. We waited by the carriage and watched to see who would be joining us. We heard her before we saw her. A loud booming voice was coming our way singing a song you may have heard in a nightmare Brownie/Scout camp scenario which went: (complete with marching steps) ÂI had a good home till I left, left, left. My mother told me to write, write, writeÂ (imitating this in William's vicinity will cause immediate dread ). The marching stopped as she announced her arrival at her appointed carriage Â ours. (And soon to be in the compartment next door.)

The carriage was much the same Â boiler at one end, crackly mattresses and a small square of material which was allegedly a towel. Will was onto Tea Duty before we had even left the station and breaking into our emergency snack supplies within the hour (a salmon snack-pack and Ritz biscuits).

There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the carriage. Mongolian and Russian people were squirrelling away all sorts of packages of assorted shapes and sizes, into ceiling compartments and trap doors in the floor (very 'Allo 'Allo). One bare chested chap, wearing rather dazzling colourful trousers, seemed to be discussing smuggling options with our Providnista (carriage attendant) as she revealed another hiding place.

As the border approached we watched the bare chested man don as many layers of shirts and jackets as he possibly could in an effort to carry this particular contraband into Russia.

The Mongolian Providnista came to our cabin and by using sbizarrezare role play which involved her stroking her upper lip and pointing to a wedding band we decided she wanted us to smuggle her husband over the border.

The man in question did indeed sit in our cabin while we crossed the border. He explained that he wasn't able to purchase a ticket from Mongolia, but would be able to once we crossed the border into Russia when people got off the train, which he did. For this we got special attention from our Providnista and I even got a chocolate (usually reserved for bribing officials!) Â Will was rather put out .

The officials searched the carriage but didn't seem too interested by the hidden goods, or the man in many jackets.

We arrived in Irkutsk, me in my fleece, Will in his T shirt, and were greeted by bright, warm sunshine (and an excessively over-priced transfer). But where were the furry hats? "This is May, Luce."

Into Outer

2005-06-24T20:10:00.000+01:00

So, after numerous weeks of just ambling around, it was off on the train and a regimented intinerary for the next two weeks. This fact wasn't completely welcome, but more than compensated for by the fact that I get to lie around on a bed with nothing to do, nowhere to go, not having to ask for a room change, or a discount, or bargaining over a price, or telling some tout to drop dead, or having to plan anything (and he gets to spend every waking hour in a small cabin with me...). And with a lifetime's supply of noodles and water with us I may even not have to ask for a menu in English for a while.

Well we got away on time, having eventually located the right train. It had been standing in the platform for ages while we were hopelessly wandering around the Beijing station waiting for it to mirculously jump out of nowhere and announce its presence. Anyway, once safely on board, (needless to say) the first thing we did was work out what our neighbours were about. It seemed that the only people in our carriage were fellow tourists, suggesting that all the locals were slumming it down in the cheap seats. On one side we had the original odd couple (a monk and a brummie) and on the other we had 'The Train Spotters'. Well, they weren't really but that's what they became known as, though I don't think there was any need for Luce to inform them of this. But more of all that later.

Once safely settled into the first leg of the journey (Beijing to Ulan Baatar; 30 hours) it was down to backgammon and cribbage, with predicatable result I might like to add. (I'm not playing anymore...). In between such excitement, we checked out what nosebag was on offer. Contrary to popular opinion, it was actually quite reasonable - although this may have been more due to its relative merits when compared to a pot noodle rather than it achieving any sort of culinary excellence (and the rice worked out at 6 pence a throw so the budget-keeping accountant was happy). But we made the most of it, especially as we'd been warned that Mongolia's cuisine wouldn't be winning any awards, and that the Russian restaurant car might be a more interesting experience..........

It would seem that the other big talking point about this whole train thing is... does anyone know what time it is? And believe it or not it was true - no one did seem to know what time it was. This is rooted in the fact that trains run on Moscow time, as do the timetables, though this may/may not apply if you are on a Chinese or Mongolian train (still not sure which ours was); added to this was a general misconception of how far in front of GMT is Beijing, and Ulan Baatar, and whether they have a shift for summer time. Not that anyone really cared, (not that this stopped my dearest spending hours trying to work it out) and the reality was we were having more trouble keeping track of which day it was, let alone such niceties as to which particular hour it was.

Anyway, no trans-continent trip would feel complete without some fun at a border crossing. And getting into Mongolian was no exception. On having our passports examined, it seemed that Ms Customs Official had no intention of returning them to us. And a stern looking lady she was too, all boots, suit and make up - Herr Flick would have loved it. Anyway, I decided that it was a good idea not to let the passports out of our view, so followed them off the train.

I interject here to tell my view of events... I sat by the window awaiting Will's reappearance - my eyes trained on a door across the platform I thought he had gone through... which he hadn't. After a while, THE TRAIN STARTED TO MOVE. Cue: slight anxiety. "My husband" I cried to the Mongolian carriage attendant (who knew only four words of English), but she just waved me away in an unconcerned manner, so I decided perhaps I should be unconcerned too. Then the train gathered speed and the panic started to creep in. I sweated for a little longer, then I ventured down to the 'trainspotter's cabin' and asked if they thought we were on our way. "Well, if you fancy heading back to China we are" came the reply, and "I believe we've just gone to pick up the restaurant car." (and how would they know that if they weren't of the train-knowledgeable-club I should like to know?) When I had started breathing again I thanked them and scuttled back to my cabin feeling a bit silly. How was I supposed to know we were going backwards?! I remained at my vigil at the window, with no sign of Will from the door across the platform. Then Will saunters into our cabin looking terribly relaxed - typical.

This meant that I got to hang around the customs hall while watching all these dolled up broads complete all their paperwork. It really was a sight to behold. But enough of such fantasies; eventually Helga summoned me to the desk. Apparently our visas hadn't been stamped on issue. "You should have checked!" Ah yes, because I should have known....... Anyway, the stamp was duly issued, and we were on our way. Well, other than the 2 hours it took to change the wheels on the train to fit Mongolia's gauge.

(If you'd made it this far, well done. Keep going, not far now.)

The rest of the trip to UB (as us trendy travellers have to call it, apparently) was quiet and uneventful, and we were soon off the train to fight it out with the local touts. For some reason that I still haven't fathomed, I'd decided that it would be a good idea not to book anywhere for our one night stop here, and rely on being offered a room on arrival. And I'm pleased to say we hooked up with a nice gentleman called Galaa ('countryside boy' turned city slicker), who fixed us up with some apartment for a bluey. It even had clean sheets.

As for Ulan Baatar itself, there's not exactly much to do, but it was interesting enough to walk around for an afternoon, and visit its only shop. We even got to visit one of it's fine restaurants. The fact that it had mutton on the menu was of no surprise; but the fact that 'chewing gum' featured on the dessert menu, er, was.

After these urban highlights, we enlisted Galaa to take us for a tour around the local countryside. And as the surrounding countryside is predominantly desert dotted with gers, there's not much to report.

2005-06-15T00:20:00.000+01:00

Time to relax

2005-06-15T00:19:00.000+01:00

Mongolian herder turned hustler

2005-06-14T23:33:00.000+01:00

Local get up

2005-06-14T23:30:00.000+01:00

Ger

2005-06-14T23:28:00.000+01:00

Easy come........

2005-06-14T23:27:00.000+01:00

......easy go

2005-06-14T23:23:00.000+01:00

Will, how much is that in........

2005-06-14T23:18:00.000+01:00

(The only) shop

2005-06-14T23:17:00.000+01:00

Downtown Ulaan Baatar

2005-06-14T23:15:00.000+01:00

Local hero

2005-06-14T23:12:00.000+01:00

Local brew

2005-06-14T22:48:00.000+01:00

Sleep time

2005-06-14T22:46:00.000+01:00

Fast food

2005-06-14T22:45:00.000+01:00

Goodbye to all that.........

2005-06-14T22:43:00.000+01:00

.........and hello to this.

PRC

2005-06-10T18:46:00.000+01:00

The original plan had been to work our way up through China over the course of a couple of weeks, but as with the few plans we've made on this whole jaunt, it didn't hold up. So hence we found ourselves taking a plane up from Hong Kong, which worked out to be quite cheap I'm pleased to say. And into Beijing. National past-time - spitting (this involved hacking up half a lung then depositing it as loudly as possible on the pavement in front of you).

Beijing is in fact a curious mix of capitalism and communism in co-existence - huge shopping arcades; art students pushing their exhibitions (don't start me on this one), over-priced street food, all sitting alongside a shambolic bus network (just like London really) and sycophantic behaviour towards a dictator (don't start me on this one either). The place is also a building site; either hotels being built in time for the Olympics, or historical buildings (the few that weren't razed to the ground) being renovated. This latter point made site-seeing a little difficult as those places that aren't closed seem to be surrounded by scaffolding. The one exception to all this is the wall which is indeed great, in both senses. Having done a lengthy walk along it, we're probably now the owners of the largest photo collection of it too. We even made some friends along the way.

Anyway, I know that you regular readers (all two of you) only want to hear about the country's transport and food options. Well, the train network was fast, clean, comfortable and efficient. This we discovered by taking an overnight train down to Xian to visit the terracotta warriors (or the terracotta worriers, as the signposts informed us). In between such cultural highlights, we also ended up having dinner at Nicola's penfriend Sunman's where she cooked us a feast. Surprisingly, this happened to include potatoes. Not having had anything that wasn't rice, noodles, or rice and noodles for all of a week I hadn't realised just how much I was missing such home comforts, so the whole bowl was decimated in no time. We also had the opportunity to try out the local whiskey - aka moonshine. Suffice to say I'm glad I only had the one.

2005-06-10T18:43:00.000+01:00

Chinese laundry

2005-06-10T18:42:00.000+01:00

A feed

2005-06-10T18:41:00.000+01:00

Traffic jam

2005-06-10T18:35:00.000+01:00

Go fly a kite

2005-06-10T18:33:00.001+01:00

Taking a breather

2005-06-10T18:33:00.000+01:00

A3xG6

2005-06-10T18:31:00.000+01:00

The answer to......and cause of......

2005-06-10T18:28:00.000+01:00

Honeymooners

2005-06-10T18:19:00.000+01:00

Our chefs

2005-06-10T18:15:00.000+01:00

A fountain

2005-06-06T13:44:00.000+01:00

Tiananmen square

2005-06-06T13:42:00.000+01:00

Mausoleum

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Street market

2005-06-06T13:40:00.000+01:00

Forbidden City

2005-06-06T13:39:00.000+01:00

English school

2005-06-06T13:38:00.000+01:00

As seen from space

2005-06-06T13:33:00.000+01:00

A wall

2005-06-06T13:32:00.000+01:00

New bit

2005-06-06T13:31:00.000+01:00

Old bit

2005-06-06T13:27:00.000+01:00

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Terracotta warriors

2005-06-06T13:19:00.000+01:00

Don't look round

2005-06-06T13:18:00.000+01:00

Rank and file

Missed it

2005-06-01T23:55:00.000+01:00

Mission accomplished, then. And instead of dwelling on our relegation, I should perhaps mention that P. Wylie esq. has eased the pain of his by asking Ms. Love to become Mrs Wylie. Amazingly, Courtney has in fact said yes. Congratulations to you both.

So goodbye to New Zealand and the camper van; which managed to bring a whole new definition to the word 'cassette'. Only one small dent and one incident of getting stuck in 3,500 km to leave behind along with all those sandflies........

Anyway, back to Hong Kong. Contrary to some reports, we didn't visit just to make it to Byrnie's leaving drinks. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable evening, despite coping with a few hours jet lag and the onset of the inevitable, which occurred around 23.53 local time. It also gave Martin the opportunity to tell everyone that he had some friends flying 3,000 miles or so to help him celebrate his departure from the World's Favourite. Anyway, best of luck back in Ireland.

The original intention had been to spend just a couple of days in Hong Kong, while sorting out visas for Mongolia and Russia. Of course, this was before I realised we were flying in at the start of a long weekend, so two days rapidly became six. However, this wasn't all bad news as I have to say we were really quite taken with the place. And not only that, the Mongolian and the Russian embassies proved to be exceptionally efficient. The Russian one because they turned around the visas inside an hour, and the Mongolian one because they kindly under-charged us by a pony apiece.

In between completing the paperwork, we found some time to enjoy Hong Kong properly. This was mainly down to the extremely warm hospitality extended to us by Ms Diane Chung and family, whom pretty much let us take over their flat for a few days. Not only that, Diane found time to show us the night life of Wan Chai, where every night is ladies' night. (Although in one bar we swung through it might have been fellas' night, as it brought a whole new meaning to 'clip joint'.) Still, apart from this little educational side trip, we were firmly on the sauce. Cheers, Diane - we had a great time.

And after an overdue trip to the barber's, it was on to the People's Republic.

2005-06-01T23:14:00.000+01:00

Night time

2005-06-01T23:13:00.000+01:00

Our hosts

2005-06-01T23:10:00.000+01:00

Downtown

2005-06-01T23:09:00.000+01:00

Flats

2005-06-01T23:07:00.000+01:00

Scaffolding

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Taxi!

2005-06-01T23:01:00.000+01:00

Toby

Carry on camping

2005-05-18T09:14:00.000+01:00

After a brief stop in Queenstown (following local pie eating and wine tasting) we made our way to Manapouri to embark on our voyage into Doubtful Sound. We located our cabin (in the bowels of the boat) we were sharing with Ihsan and Nicola and then sat down for a nice cup of tea. This was followed by a few more cups while we waited for our crew to help rescue a deerhunter who had cut his hand rather badly two days earlier but had not sought assistance until now (he was in a fairly remote area, but there's no excuse in my book!). It turned out he only had to walk for a couple of hours to get to transport but they decided to get him a helicopter instead...

We enjoyed a spot of kayaking and were then invited to take a dip into the freezing water. Will obliged, I didn't.

After rather good wine and food we had a challenging game of Cluedo. There was some tactical play by Ihsan, a stab in the dark from me and a calculated guess from Will, but Nicola solved the crime.

The next morning we had a wake-up call to see the dolphins playing alongside the boat. It was beautiful weather (very unusual in that part of the country, though they say it's just as nice in the rain - but then you get wet) and I just had my camera permanently in front of my face trying to get a good mirror image picture in the still water. At one point the engines were turned off so we could hear 'the sound of silence', it was quite eerie. Then we chugged off back to land and got some respite from the sandflies.

We sadly parted company with Nicola and Ihsan, then set off for Milford Sound - for comparison purposes as well as the scenic drive to get there. We didn't stop long as it was a bit misty and murky, then parked up for the night in the middle of nowhere.

Next stop was back to Queenstown. We hired bikes and set off for a 'moderate, undulating' cycle route which turned out to be a massive slog up a hill and some heavy going terrain! All credit to Will who did not get off his bike and pedalled all the way up the never ending long steep winding hill, while I was struggling to push my bike up most of it. After taking four hours instead of the estimated two we were close to collapse, so we had some emergency Fruit 'n' Nut, then drove to Arrowtown for a very welcome hot shower at a camping ground which had a rugby pitch in the middle of it. No Brumbies here though so not interested. Will's abiding memory of Arrowtown will be 'the place that had knockout pies' - there was indeed considerably more filling than your average pie.

Continuing our fitness regime we went for a long walk in the hills where they used to mine for gold (we didn't find any), then went to check out the English sweet shop, for spaceships, dolly mixture and rhubarb & custard. Plus another visit to the pie shop for Mr. Etchell.

We put our van's gas rings to good use and produced good old mashed potatoes, chicken, peas and courgettes. We needed it - it was a very cold night. We finished off the mash the next day with some local sausages (unlucky animals' side of the road) then drove to Wanaka. The best thing about Wanaka was Puzzleworld, which kept Will busy for hours. It also had a maze which he managed to get round in record time, and visit each tower in order! It was a proud moment.

We decided to tackle another cycle ride - this was a fairly flat route, but at one stage I managed to dismount leaving one leg behind, subsequently falling off the edge of the forest track. After desperately grabbing bits of tree stump as I slid down the embankment, I realised that my feet were actually touching the ground, but my legs were in jelly and I had tweaked my ankle. I was terribly brave though.

Our next drive north took us through Haast Pass, another deserted camping ground and then to Fox Glacier village. We cycled to the terminal face of the glacier and to Lake Matheson, then had fish and chips in the first bit of rain we had encountered (we also ordered lasagne - which came deep-fried. I ask you...........)

The rain continued and delayed the helihike to Franz Josef glacier for a day or two. It was worth it though - my first trip in a helicopter was definitely memorable (and probably for the pilot too as I managed to elbow him rather hard when I was trying to fix my seatbelt). We donned our crampons and went for a jaunt over the ice and through ice caves, as well as experiencing a rather insignificant avalanche above us.

We didn't stay any longer in the 'town' (being a fairly unstimulating place) and headed up the west coast - to stay in some more one-street towns! We stopped off to see the limestone pancake rocks and blow holes which were really impressive (and free too, which was nice), walk among the copious amounts of driftwood on the beaches, then eventually drove up to Westport where it became a ghost town after Saturday lunchtime and it rained buckets (and most of the night spent awaiting football text messages, confirming that last chance saloon was to stay open for another week).

After meandering through Arthur's Pass and visiting another couple of villages we set off for Akaroa, via Barry's Bay cheese factory, meeting part of the production team (Daisy). We enjoyed a couple of nights of cheese and wine before packing our bags, saying goodbye to fine wine, food and scenery, to leave Christchurch airport - bound for Hong Kong.

2005-05-16T08:59:00.001+01:00

Road to Glenorchy

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Top of the hill

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Lake something

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Arrowtown

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Pie eating

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The gold miner's house

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The hills are alive......

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Mystery machine

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Butcher's or the Vet's

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Brunch

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Arrowtown

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Smith's square crisps

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Puzzled

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That's a-maze-ing

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Lake Matheson

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Franz Josef

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Ice cave

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