Sonic (Perth to Kalbarri, WA)

The Murray Street strip continued to be party central. It reminded me of Kings Cross in Sydney (without the strippers) when Sydney still had a nightlife. The double glazing ensured we slept soundly and woke to a quiet Sunday morning. We decided to forego breakfast and get on the road as early possible. It's about a six hour drive to Kalbarri without stops and we have a number of stops planned, the first at Dan Murphy's. Prices for essentials, outside of the city, can be eye watering. And we needed champagne. Of course.

The car was parked across the street in a parking station. The walk up the stairwell was, well, pungent and puddled. Clearly Perth pubs and clubs don't have toilet facilities.

The freeway out to Uncle Dan's was a lovely stretch of road. If anyone in NSW or Victoria is wondering where their GST went after the Morrison deal, look no further than the road system in WA. It's all under construction.

We arrived at the bottle shop 5 minutes prior to opening time. Now that's a good look, hanging around outside Uncle Dan's waiting for the doors to open on a Sunday morning. Not that we are desperate, you understand....supplies purchased to avoid exorbitant prices heading North, we were walking back to the car when the unthinkable happened. The bottom of the box I was carrying gave way. One belligerent bottle made an escape attempt. A successful one. Only to be stymied by landing on its head and rolling to my feet. Unbroken! It's a miracle! The cap was damaged, and the contents looked like a sparkling (it was a Vasse Felix Classic White), but otherwise it was all good. Hopefully that is not all our good luck expended in one go!!!

Lancelin Sand Dunes

Next stop was Lancelin, home to WA's largest sand dunes. Now dear reader, I don't wish to be boastful, but we have climbed the largest sand dune in the world, in the South of France, in fact. Our southern hemisphere version just doesn't measure up. And in this case, size does matter.

While Declan was faithfully navigating us toward the sand people, his commentary became superfluous as the amount of sand being whipped into the air beckoned us forward. It was like light smoke in the air. We preferred to park on the street and walk the 300m into the carpark area. This is a celebrated WA recreation area, sand boarding, quad biking, 4 wheel driving, getting sand bogged, redneck spotting. The last was like shooting fish in a barrel - another concept that eludes my understanding.

Says it all really.

There were queues for the sand boards. There were queues for the quad bikes. There was no queue for the towing service - you had to phone them but they had conveniently put their phone number on a prominent sign, positioned immediately before the entry point. "Take a photo - you might need this number". We did see one macho-4WD thing being removed on the back of the trailer truck. Sadly they don't make the driver complete the walk of shame and trail behind his incapacitated vehicle.

Looks like a lot of fun.

Sand boarding looked like immense fun. Struggle all the way up a sand dune. Enjoy a 20 second ride. Collect more sand in orifices unnamed and struggle back up the dune. Repeat. Awesome. Quad bikes are just an accident waiting to happen and the 4WD drive cowboys get to act out a Ram ad. Be still my quaking heart.

Queues.

The wind was whipping the sand up to such an extent I thought I'd booked in for a defoliating treatment. The amount of airborne sand made it difficult to appreciate the beauty of the "largest sand dunes in WA". The wall-to-wall testosterone vehicles had nothing to do with it. Sand everywhere, as Leonardo's Bride informed us in Sonic from their Open sesame album of 2000.

I've always been fond of the expression "I'm not saying they're from the shallow end of the gene pool, but I can see sand". Well, there was a lot of sand today. Just saying.

At least when you climbed the dune in France, there was an epic view at the top (and stairs to climb to it).

The Pinnacles

Recently The Pinnacles featured on that bogan TV travel show on Channel 9. OK, it's become a guilty pleasure, but not for the reasons you might think. We believe Kevin and Janetta are channeling us. We'd be excellent travel companions for them.

This was our first National Park entry and we had pre-purchased a park pass before we left the safety of NSW. The car in front of us clearly hadn't and then decided to pay - in cash. Who does that in 2023? To enable this momentous moment, people in all parts of their over-compensating 4WD had to scour pockets and search purses. And then, the driver, wearing a broad brimmed hat in the car, wanted to chat to the attendant. Not for the first time, I wished I had some James Bond style attachments to my car. It was just inconsiderate. Cars steadily built up behind us and he chatted on regardless. Thankfully we never saw them again because they drove the circuit rather than getting out of the air conditioned environmental destroyer they were sitting in.

Anyway, on to more important matters, that is, the Pinnacles themselves. We ventured into this part of the Nambung National Park, ready to feel underwhelmed, given the name promises so much! And we weren't disappointed. It was underwhelming, expansive and overcrowded. Not just by 4WDs, also by people and people with drones, breaking the law by using the annoying, buzzing, expensive toys. Drones are the new generation's selfie-stick. I despise drones more. Noisy, invasive, illegal. They were banned on the south island in New Zealand, good work there.

The Pinnacles are unique formations of limestone pillars that have been exposed by coastal winds eroding the ubiquitous WA sand dunes. They are testimony to the ever-evolving maritime/desert dance that has formed the current WA landscape. They are worth visiting, but the name suggests so much more than the experience of walking through them delivers. It is interesting but it is not the apex of what will be the take home memories of WA.

The Lobster Shack

Bet that heading got your attention. We had a choice of places to have breakfast - yes, that is correct, we have yet to eat today. There was choice. The Jurien Bakery or the Lobster Shack. The later was recommended to me and it had the word lobster in it so Jayne was sold.

Again we leave the highway and drive to the edge of the country. While the Lobster Shack was easily found, easily enough to drive past, the actual entrance to the 'restaurant' wasn't so obvious. After driving to the end of the street and turning around to locate the car park, behind a colourbond fence, we struggled to find the actual 'restaurant'. We found the kids' play area, the gift shop, other lost tourists, and eventually the 'restaurant'. Simple. 

It looks like an entrance, but no, it's not.

Not so much. Where do you order? Are there menus? It was crowded. The first Sunday of school holidays. The end of normal lunch service. Unfettered, unbridled, unrestrained children underfoot everywhere. It was heaven.

We found the bar. No deal. Driving much further today. Someone pointed us to where you order where we found another couple who were equally confused. Together we found the menu. It was an interesting mix of things I'd never order and options I wanted to sit and savour. No deal. Driving. Also it wasn't cheap.

After much discussion about how it is against the law to hurt unrestrained children. No, sorry wrong discussion. After much discussion we opted for a lobster roll. Not particularly surprising given our time constraints, the choices and the massive number of children. Did I mention it was school holidays? And they weren't even fun kids, you know, the ones to watch, sullen teens sneering at their parents, staring at their screens. No, these were barefoot tearaways.

There was an outside deck where we annexed a table. Water was the next challenge. They have one of those fancy chilled water dispensers. Over I go, feeling amazed there were so many cups sitting, waiting to be used. Amazed until I tried to extract water from the tap. Nope. Not working. They later placed a sign on the tap - it was out of order - and directed people to jugs of water on the bar. Yeah, whatever.

The lobster roll was very good. Big enough for two. Particularly as it came with chips. But then it was $30.

Would we come back? Hell yeah. On the right day, weather wise, the deck is an absolute winner. The lobster was excellent. Just don't come on a Sunday afternoon during school holidays.

Back on the road.

Kalbarri

It was not an easy drive to Kalbarri. The sun was setting which makes conditions difficult and we were heading west for a large part of the drive. At one stage the sun was sitting directly atop of the road. And then there are animals at dusk.

Suffice to say it was a drive that required intense concentration. We arrived, without incident.

And with that, I think that's enough for this post. I'll deal with dinner tomorrow.

Until next time.

Slice of Heaven (Christchurch, New Zealand)

Well hello again my dear reader. We are back, travelling together, no 'ridiculous' bushwalking adventures on this trip. No, with Jayne by my side it will be the usual luxury to which she has become accustomed. That said, I'm not complaining.

For the next three weeks we will be circumnavigating the South Island of New Zealand. As an extra challenge we are confining the song related titles of the blog to that of New Zealand artists. Today, Christchurch was an absolute picture when we arrived, blue skies, light breeze, a true slice of heaven. Cheers to Dave Dobbyn, actually Sir Dave Dobbyn, wtf, all the way from the 1980s. Sought of apt in some fashion. The time period, not the knighthood, although they belong to the past as well. However, I'm getting ahead of myself.

We set the alarm to ensure we woke in time this morning. It's a simple thing and yet something so intrusive and most unpleasant. Yes, we lived by the bell in more ways than one in our working lives, but now prefer to respond to natural life rhythms. Not so today. Up, dressed and out the door  before 7am. Since my last excursion the the airport went so well via Sydney Trains, I thought we would utilise that mode of transport other than a taxi or Uber. Hmmm. Signal failure in Campbelltown caused delays to all airport trains. Typical.

Anyway, we wrangled the luggage and crowd at Central Station, checked in and negotiated security. That is always interesting, negotiating security. They seem to create random rules for each occasion. As is usual I was selected for a body scan, well they are only human. However, I was ahead of them today and wore joggers not my usual boots. I would not be sent back for a re-scan. Wrong. "There is something in your pocket" ... a handkerchief that the dude at the scanner said not to put into a plastic tub. "And your back?" sorry, it was humid, I was sweating and that always shows up. "Please put your glasses on and go through again". Made it. Why do they always win?

Meanwhile ... where is Jayne? Still coming through and just when she can see Nirvana and freedom, out of the shadows pops the guy who checks for explosive residue. He speaks to Jayne and I smirk. Too many years working with young people - this young man is on the spectrum and he is following every textbook step as he has been taught. No jokes, no smiles, just procedure: hands, shoes, pockets, inside bags, even the mobile were all swiped to test for residue. He has found the perfect job.

Finally free, Jayne relates her saga. She was sent back to remove her glasses. Yes, I was told to put mine on. "Put them in the tub," they said. "The tub has passed through to the other side," (not that sort of other side, just through the x-ray machine) says Jayne. "Then go back and get another tub." FFS. I'm sure they do this for fun. Even the Qantas staff questioned the shifting sands of regulations at security.

The food is better than the view from First Lounge.

As time draws to its inexorable end on my platinum status with the Qantas Frequent Flyer program, I enjoy the First Class Lounge more and more. Today for breakfast, a long black, BLT and champagne, of course. Jayne had some egg thing. You know I do not understand the fascination with eggs, my long suffering reader.

Random shot as we approach Christchurch.

The flight was unremarkable. It was 30 minutes late leaving. Nothing unusual for Qantas. My bag was returned unscathed. Now THAT IS remarkable given my recent experience. By 4:30pm (NZ time) we had picked up the car (scored an upgrade because I didn't expect or need one) and checked in to our hotel.

Last time I saw a river that wide I was in Canada.

"Should I call you 'doctor' or 'sir', "enquired the hotel manager. "Call me Brad," I replied.

The view of the Cathedral from our room.

A quick reconnoître and off to the supermarket to purchase some items we opted not bring. Then it was back to our hotel to watch the evening descend slowly over Christchurch, while enjoying a bottle of rosé from Wooing Tree with the BEST POTATO CHIPS IN THE WORLD. No, I'm serious. They are very difficult to procure in Australia. See the photo below.

Find them. Buy them. Eat them.

That is pretty much the first day. Jayne is researching options for tomorrow. Sadly, our slice of heaven is about to be replaced with something, well, less heavenly or more heavenly in a literal sense. Rain is forecast for the next couple of days, but hey, it's New Zealand and the South Island, you have to expect some rain.

I will, as usual, attempt to blog every day, but I'm fairly certain that is a bridge too far.

Until next time.

Slice of Heaven (Wellington, New Zealand)

It's January. So clearly it's time to be anywhere but Sydney. That's correct my dedicated reader, it's the first vacay of the year. Vacay? Yes, my boomer friend, vacay, it's millennial talk for vacation. Aren't they clever? They saved one whole syllable. So thrifty, the younger generation. Unless it comes to money.

This beautiful flowering tree was everywhere

This morning saw drizzle in Sydney. Exciting, but a tease for the rain that is really needed across the whole state. No, make that country. The holiday blog is usually not too political as you would know my astute reader. However, writing from the seventh state of Australia, aka, New Zealand, in a time of environmental crisis and a leadership void, remaining Jane Austen, bat-shit-boring, might present as a challenge. I will try ... actually, no chance. Therefore, if you qualify as a RWFW*, probably best to leave now. I'll give you a minute ... still here? Ok then.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the Sydney weather. The smoke was supposed to have cleared today. I saw no evidence of that. It was cloudy and there was light drizzle but the smoke seemed to be there. This was later confirmed as we sat in the lounge at the airport and again as we took to the air. I have lived in Sydney, or thereabouts, for almost 60 years and I can never recall such putrid air quality or such devastation as a result of bushfires. Generally, we get smoke haze in autumn, for a couple of days, when the RFS and National Parks' people are conducting hazard reduction or back-burning operations. Oh, wait. That's not possible. Because apparently the current fires are because we don't back-burn, according to the RWFWs. However, we haven't really seen the sun or blue sky in Sydney for over a month.

Sorry, sorry, I'll get back to the vacay. But, imagine if NZ was the seventh state and Jacinda was our PM. AWESOME!

I like this guy's attitude. And the blue sky.

We landed in windy Wellington after a very pleasant and uneventful flight. Lunch was lovely as was the accompanying champagne and wine. Service was professional and friendly, cheers Qantas. The only thing missing when we landed was the wind. There was a breeze, but not wind, and it was quite pleasant, around 18°. We picked up the car - a Corolla, with GPS. Wait, I ordered a GPS - oh ... yeah ... best to take the portable GPS too, in case the one in the car doesn't work. Nice. For them. The GPS worked. Why wouldn't it in a brand new car? Hertz, we need to talk.

A reasonably benign drive to the Sofitel despite the GPS trying to take me around the block. That's twice in two weeks now and in different countries. They might have a nice, polite, British voice, but they can't be trusted.

Bags dropped. Car valeted (is that a word?). Room surveyed. Time to hit the capital of NZ. Wow, that didn't take long. We were back at the hotel in 15 minutes. Come on, I'm joking. Five minutes walk placed us at the waterfront, where all the action takes place in Wellington. Maybe. Maybe not. I'm not judging. 

Sea urchins. I get it.

What I did see were far too many people jogging with backpacks. Surely they weren't running home? And far too many people on scooters. Not children. Adults, on electric scooters. Well, some of them were old, but they clearly weren't adults.

The foreshore area is quite pleasant. It was sunny, a little breezy, cool, blue sky. Anyone from fire-ravaged parts of Australia would be rapt. A tourist and/or afterwork mecca for a meal and a drink. There were plenty of bars and eateries. And people jogging and scootering, but I think I mentioned that. Aside from the distracting people there are sculptures dotted around the area, some obvious in intent, others not so much, but they add to the general vibe. 

The fall of Rome?

Fashions were interesting. Either there are a lot of Canadians here on holiday (sorry, eh) or the locals all wear shorts and t-shirts. They tended to contrast with the puffy jackets and sou'westers, scarves and beanies.

The wander around town revealed the usual global businesses, so there is no need to name them. But, if you wanted to have really shit American coffee made by a mermaid you could do that. Equally, you could shop at Australia's number one department store, because there is no other store like ... You get the picture.

After the initial reconnoitre of the waterfront, we returned to choose a place for dinner. There were plenty of options, but given the food we had in the lounge in Sydney and then on the plane and the time difference, we weren't really that hungry. Although we knew we'd have to eat something.  The choice was the Crab Shed. Be adult, don't think that. Anyway, if you're a Kiwi, it's pronounced Creb Shid. However, there was a 30 minute wait for the table. So, no crabs for us. Tonight at least. 

The view from the hotel window. It's hilly.

Eventually we sought shelter from the breeze at Portofino, an Italian place that offered a wide menu, an interesting wine list and a very loud waitress. Tonight, though, it was to be three entrées to keep body and soul together. With a robust rosé from Gisborne. Nice.

Then back into the breeze and the growing dusk to walk up the hill back to the hotel to plan tomorrow's activities. Well, that part is Jayne's responsibility. My work is done, almost, I still have to vet the photos.  And I did manage to get us here. Oh, yeah, and then there is the blog, which I am concluding now as I drink a nice cup of tea. True story.

Oh! I almost forgot to reference the song title for this post. Is there any other way to commence a vacay in heaven? Slice of Heaven, the 1986 eminently hummable hit song by NZ legend Dave Dobbyn. If you haven't heard it click here. Sorry about the ads.

At this infant stage of the holiday, I make the bold statement that ALL titles will be songs from Australian bands/musicians from the seventh state. Let's face, the choices are almost endless: Crowded House, Split Enz, Mi Sex, Dragon, Shihad, Flight of the Conchords, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, Wilde and Reckless ... what? You haven't heard of the last two bands. Talk to Dr Google.

Until tomorrow.

* rightwing fuckwit