December 2024: Mexico, Part 8

Cancun: The Final Stop

Leaving one all-inclusive luxury resort for another, we head for the Hayatt in Cancun. Unlike most well-to-do tourists who arrive at the Hyatt by private chauffeur, we elected to catch the local bus. This decision, while budget-friendly, also led to some very strange looks from the porters as we trudged up to the grand entrance, backpacks in tow. Their confused expressions made it abundantly clear—no one, and I mean no one, walks up to the Hyatt with luggage. We had barely set foot inside before a well-dressed concierge cautiously approached, wearing the polite yet deeply concerned expression of someone about to ask, “Are you lost?”.

Despite this they let us in for the next 4 days enjoying a dazzling oasis of infinity pools, cabanas, limitless food and yes – tequilas.

From the moment we arrived, we were greeted with warm smiles and flawless service, including having the luxury of having our very own butler named “Jeeves” (not his real name but I am sure that is what his name was if translated). While the service was 5 star, I must say the food was – lets just say – very Americanised (Who knew "quesadilla" could come with ranch dressing?). The pool scene on the other hand was peak decadence.

While the luxury of the lounge pools was up there, we had to go to the top shelf and chose to book a cabana overlooking the beach for an entire day. With a friendly call to any number of staff that were waiting nearby, we ordered everything from tacos and cocktails to a massage. The only thing missing was Jeeves to peel our grapes and fan us with a palm leaf.

If the luxury of the cabana was not enough - what about the serenity of a spa with breathtaking views of the ocean. With a single phone call to Jeeves to get the spa ready, all we had to do was slip into the warm bubble filled tub allowing the warmth to wrap around us melting any tension away (not that there was much at this stage of our holiday).

I have always said we are spoilt in Australia due to our amazing beaches. While I am still biased and think there are none better, Cancun comes close. The Caribbean-blue water is so bright you’d swear it has its own Instagram filter. And the sand is whiter than the sunscreen you forgot to rub in properly.

While prying ourselves from the cabana, spa and beach was an effort, we reminded ourselves that this was not why we came to Mexico. Eager to experience some local marine life, we hopped on a ferry to Cozumel, a small island off the coast and joined a snorkellnig tour.

I had heard a lot about snorkeling and diving in the Coral Sea so snorkels in hand, we jumped in the water expecting a vibrant underwater fiesta of fish, coral, and the occasional curious sea turtle. Instead, we drifted over a vast expanse of ….. absolutely nothing. Unlike our previous snorkel at Akumal Bay, water quality was not the issue—visibility was perfect in the crystal-clear sea. The problem was that there was simply nothing to see.

The highlight of our aquatic safari? A lone, motionless starfish, who looked as unimpressed with us as we were with him. It was like paying for front-row seats to a Broadway show only to watch a janitor sweep the stage.

I shouldn’t be so harsh, though. The tour operators must have sensed our disappointment, as we soon found ourselves anchored in a shallow bay where the main activity was… drinking beer in knee-deep water. Clearly, we had booked the party boat.

But this time, the crystal-clear water worked in our favor, as we suddenly noticed more than ten stingrays gliding between our legs. While flashes of Steve Irwin’s untimely demise flickered through my mind, the rays seemed far more interested in our beers than in stabbing anyone. I half expected one to place an order for a Corona.

Determined to get some "adventure" into our itinerary, we booked a day at Extreme Adventure Eco Park—one that promised quad biking, zip-lining, and cenote diving. This was a jungle-themed Disney park, complete with overly enthusiastic guides, safety helmets, and waivers longer than the Old Testament. Despite this, the zip lines were fun, the quad biking exhilarating and the cenote was slightly more adrenalin pumping than the Hyatt pool. At no point did we feel like we were in Mexico (unless Mexico had recently been purchased by Universal Studios) but it was a great way to spend the day.

 

The last word

 After a week of over-sanitized, tourist-tailored experiences, we came to a conclusion: Cancun and Playa del Carmen are perfect for spring breakers, bachelor parties, and anyone who wants to visit Mexico without actually encountering Mexico. The real magic lies beyond the all-inclusive resorts.

The rest of Mexico? Absolute perfection. From the vibrant streets of Mexico City to the awe-inspiring ruins of Palenque, from the culinary delights of Oaxaca to the mezcal-soaked nights in Puebla—Mexico is breathtaking, welcoming, and rich with culture. And as for all those horror stories about safety? Completely overblown. The only real danger we faced was the calorie count we would need to loose when we return home.

So, should you go to Cancun? Only if you're 19, wearing a “Bride Squad” sash, or have a deep love for overpriced cocktails. Otherwise, do yourself a favour—see the real Mexico. It’s worth every peso.

December 2024: Mexico, Part 7

Playa Del Carmen

After three weeks of travelling through real Mexico — wandering through the back streets of numerous cities and towns, exploring multiple Mayan ruins, joining in on the local festivals and braving local transport — we decided it was time for a break. A little taste of luxury. A chance to bask in the indulgence of an all-inclusive resort in Playa del Carmen.

And what better place to do it than the Hilton, where the margaritas flow endlessly, the pillows are fluffier than a baby alpaca, and the staff is trained to respond to your every wish.

The thing about Playa del Carmen is that, unlike the rest of Mexico, it isn’t particularly… Mexican. It’s more like the Gold Coast with mariachi music playing faintly in the background. Here, pesos are just a suggestion with prices mostly listed in US dollars to cater for the thousands of Americans that fly here for a weekend ‘Girls Night’ or shotgun wedding.

A can of Coke? That’ll be $6. A beachside cocktail? Better take out a mortgage. And if you’re looking for authentic Mexican souvenirs, fear not—there’s an abundance of hand-carved Mayan masks made in China.

The heart of it all is 5th Avenue, the town’s famous pedestrian strip. Think Las Vegas meets Tex-Mex meets an American shopping mall. Fancy some Subway or Starbucks? You got it. Want a Hard Rock Café t-shirt that says “Playa del Carmen” but was manufactured in Indonesia? No problem. Looking for tequila? Well, you'll pay triple what you would anywhere else in Mexico.

Many travel blogs and websites warn about the so-called dangers of venturing beyond the 5th, but let’s be honest—these concerns often come from many Americans that live in their own bubble oblivious to a world outside the US of A. Step just a few blocks away—to 15th or 20th Street—and suddenly, you’re in Mexico again. The souvenir shops disappear, replaced by small taquerias where the tacos cost less than bottled water, the Zócalo hums with life and the aroma of irresistible marquesita (a crepe rolled and filled with bannanas antella or numerous other sweet toppings) fill the air.

The same goes for the beaches. The stretches near the town center are pleasant, but head just a few blocks south, and you’ll find yourself among the locals where volleyball games replace overpriced beach lounges.

Back at the Hilton, though, it’s easy to forget any of this exists. The infinity pool sparkles under the sun, the breakfast buffet offers more variety than any foodhall, and the only thing you need to worry about is whether to order another piña colada or margarita poolside.

While this was our chance for a week of relaxation, and you could easily spend your entire time within the hotel grounds, this is not in our nature. So we spend the days exploring further afield.

First up snorkelling with the turtles in Akumal Bay. The brochures promise crystal-clear waters and graceful sea turtles gliding through the seagrass, but reality? It’s more like swimming in a giant, murky turtle soup, elbow-to-elbow with an army of life-jacket-clad tourists. If you’ve ever snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef, where the visibility is like peering into a high-definition aquarium, Akumal feels a little more like wearing foggy goggles in a public pool.

Adding to the charm is the strictly controlled experience with designated swimming zones, tour groups are corralled like schoolchildren, bobbing awkwardly in compulsory bright orange life vests, and a guide ensuring you don’t have too much fun.

The turtles, for their part, seem entirely unbothered, lazily munching on seagrass as another wave of flailing snorkelers drifts overhead.

While the turltles were memorable for all the wrong reasons, the cenote was not. Snorkeling in Cenote Nohoch Nah Chich is less like your typical swim with colorful fish and more like drifting through an ancient, flooded cathedral. It is the world’s second-largest underwater cave system, with over 376 kilometers of submerged passages. While it is possible to dive here, we snorkled in the crystal-clear water that makes it feel like you’re floating in mid-air. with only the light from torches to stop you from accidently disapearing down the labarynth of passageways, we glide past the limestone stalactites which dangle like nature’s chandeliers, casting shadows on the cave walls.

When you search for Talum it does not take long before the glossy travel articles are swamped with less flattering articles. Here is just one that sums up the concerns:

“this is a place of pothole-filled streets, overpriced taxis, terrible traffic jams, and out-of-touch yuppies, celebrities, influencers, wannabe gurus, COVID deniers, and well-to-do folks looking to “find themselves” in overpriced retreats, hotels, and bars.”

The town that was once a quiet, bohemian paradise is now a place where eco-chic resorts and overpriced acai bowls reign supreme, and where the only thing truly "local" is the resentment of the people who still call it home. Our guide, a woman with a deep love for her country, gently advised us to skip the hotel strip altogether, explaining how the rapid commercialization had eroded Tulum’s authentic charm, priced locals out of their own town, and turned it into a playground for influencers perfecting their downward dog on the beach. So, we did the sensible thing—we ignored the “must-see” boutique resorts and headed straight for the Tulum Ruins instead.

Perched dramatically on a cliff overlooking the turquoise Caribbean, the ruins of Zamá (as the Mayans originally called it) are proof that oceanfront property was prime real estate long before Instagram made it a trend. Built around 1200 AD, Tulum was one of the last great Mayan cities, a bustling hub of trade and spiritual significance.

The main attraction, El Castillo, is a stone structure that looks like it was designed specifically to be on postcards. Strategically positioned for both defense and astronomical alignment, it once served as a lighthouse guiding Mayan traders safely through the treacherous reef. Now, it mostly serves as a backdrop for Instagram captions and selfies which - yes - we had to do.

Like many of the ruins there are many locals that call this home with the army of iguanas that have claimed the ruins as their personal sunbathing lounge. These prehistoric-looking reptiles perch majestically atop crumbling walls, eyeing tourists with the kind of indifference usually reserved for bouncers at exclusive beach clubs. They pose for photos (sometimes better than the influencers), and occasionally startle unsuspecting visitors by darting out from the shadows.

So, is Playa del Carmen really Mexico? Well, yes… but also, not really. It’s Mexico-lite, a place where the margaritas are twice as expensive, the tacos come with NO spicy salsas, and the beaches are filled with tourists who have not attempted to learn even one spanish word.

But hey—after three weeks of adventure, sometimes a little overpriced, Americanized paradise isn’t the worst thing in the world. So one more stop in the lap of luxury to go - Cancun.

December 2024: Mexico, Part 6

Merida

Next stop on our Mexican adventure is ‘Marvelous Merida’. Mérida’s history reads like an epic novel: Mayan civilization, Spanish conquest, and an economic boom that left behind a cityscape of grand mansions and colonial cathedrals.

The city’s heart beat is in Plaza Grande, where locals gather under shady trees or take a seat in the “Tú y Yo” (you and me), seats that line the plaza.

A popular legend tells the story of a man who had a daughter he adored who was being courted by a young man of the village. The father, jealous, asked them as a condition of their courtship that they only venture as far as the benches in the park. They accepted, but the father then realized that the traditional park bench gave them plenty of opportunity to physically close to each other, so he decided to create the “silla tú y yo”, which allowed them to speak to each other and look into each other’s eyes while always maintaining a discreet distance.

The adjacent Catedral de San Ildefonso looms impressively over the square. Constructed from Mayan ruins, the Cathédral of Mérida is an imposing 16th-century backdrop to the lively promenades, street vendors, and historical buildings.

On another end of the plaza is the Palacio de Gobierno. This grand 19th-century building houses a stunning collection of murals by artist Fernando Castro Pacheco. These larger-than-life paintings don’t just decorate the walls—they tell the story of the region’s history, from the rise of the Maya civilization to the Spanish conquest and the struggles of the indigenous people.

Walking around the street of Merida, crumbling casas (houses) begging to be brought back to life reside next to those lovingly restored. While the restored houses are charming, I kept getting drawn back to the peeling paint and decaying doors that seem to have a thousand stories to tell. 

One of the iconic and charming artistic traditions is the whimsical skeleton statues, known as “calacas.” These skeletal figures, often dressed in elegant clothing or caught mid-dance, are a nod to Mexico’s deep-rooted relationship with death, particularly in the celebration of Día de los Muertos. Whether a skeleton bride sitting with her groom or a skeleton smoking a cigar, these figures embody the city’s playful and philosophical spirit.

Like many of the cities we preiously visited, Merida is closeley connected to its Mayan history. In this case the Mayan city of Uxmal (pronounced “Oosh-mal,” because the Mayans clearly loved to keep us guessing) which flourished between the 7th and 10th centuries. Unlike some ancient ruins that are a mere pile of rocks, Uxmal boasts remarkably well-preserved structures that showcase the incredible Puuc architectural style of intricate carvings and structures of grand geometric precision.

Buildings, such as the Nunnery Quadrangle, the House of the Governor, and the intriguing House of the Turtles, all exhibit a superlative quality of finished cut stonework that would undoubtedly make any skilled stonemason feel a sense of pride. This exquisite craftsmanship is further complemented by their distinctive engineering skills, which are demonstrated as we enter the Nunnery quadrangle through a strikingly tall corbel or "false arch."

The crown jewel of Uxmal is the Pyramid of the Magician, a towering temple with rounded corners and a steep incline of steps that screams “climb me,” though sadly, that’s no longer allowed. Legend has it that this pyramid was built in a single night by a dwarf who was hatched out of an egg. Thus, it is also called the Pyramid of the Dwarf. While this is likely to be untrue, what we did learn is what you see is the last of 5 pyramids, built one on top of the other, each larger than the last.

No visit to Uxmal is complete without meeting its current inhabitants: iguanas have claimed the ruins as their personal kingdom, lounging on ancient stones like they own the place (along with a few stray dogs).

While Uxmal can be likened to a serene cathedral, Chichen Itza is similar to a crowded Disneyland.

Chichén Itzá has been identified as one of the 7 Wonders of the World and that fame definately brings with it the crowds. At its peak it is estimated that around 35,000 people resided here. While we arrived early and the crowds were managable, by the time we left it fealt like there was more than 35,000 people.

The crowds got a lot bigger than this by the time we left

The grandeur of the site is undeniable. The towering El Castillo pyramid, seemingly at the center of the universe, rises like an ancient Egyptian monument. At  30 metres high it is built as a temple to the 'feathered serpent' God Kukulcan, with 9 levels representing the 9 levels of the afterlife and 365 steps, one for each day of the year.

Next to El Castillo is the Great Ball Court. At 135 metres by 65 metres, Anthropologists believe that the object of the game was to hurl a ball through a ring that was mounted on a wall. Each team had six field players who would attempt to pass the ball — using any body part except their hands. At the end of the game the Captain, or perhaps the whole team, of one side was sacrificed to the Gods. Its unclear if the winners or losers were sacraficed so it is hard to know if you wanted to win or lose.

There are over 26 ruins to explore and despite having a couple of hours here we had to rush in the end. however we had to stop by the majestic Temple of Warriors which is characterized by its distinct arrangement of rectangular columns, upon which intricate carvings of warriors are prominently displayed. Adjacent to the Temple are rows of circular columns, suggesting that this area may have once been covered by a roof, creating a grand, sheltered space for gatherings or ceremonies.

There's something surreal about standing before one of the pyramids knowing that, during the Equinox, shadows align perfectly to form a serpent slithering down the stairs. More bizarre is Tzompantli which stands as one of Chichen Itza’s most chilling relics. This T-shaped platform is covered in eerie carvings of skulls and eagles tearing open human chests—a stark reminder of its original purpose. In ancient times, this platform displayed the severed heads of sacrificial victims, their skulls impaled on wooden racks to appease the gods and assert the power of the ruling elite.

While spectacular, there's no denying that Chichen Itza has become something of a tourist spectacle—often described as the Disneyland of Mayan ruins.

The moment you step into the site you're greeted by a barrage of souvenir vendors, hawking everything from t-shirts emblazoned with the site’s iconic pyramid to hand-carved obsidian knives. They line every single spare inch of walkway and then some. No sooner do you brush past one enthusiastic vendor than another steps in, offering you a “great deal” on a replica Mayan calendar—whether you want it or not.

While I expected this at the markets of Cancun, I think allowing street vendors to line the avenues of a world-class archaeological site detracts from its importance and cheapens the experience.

The site itself is stunning, of course. But it's hard to imagine you’re walking through sacred history when the air is thick with the sounds of ear-splitting jaguar whistle. It’s cute the first time, but after you hear it 100 times in a short span of time, it becomes irritating.

Despite this negative view, we secumbed to the fifth offer to buy a obsidian mayan calander, so i should not complain having just contributed to the issue. So it was time to leave before i bought a jaguar whistle for a final trek to the coast and some time for relaxation.

Side Note

If you think tequila is just another name for a headache you would be mistaken. I know what fist comes to mind is a small glass filled with the equivalent of petrol, taken from a bottle with a worm slowly decomposing at the bottom.  But prepare to have your mind (and possibly your liver) expanded.

This version of tequila is the equivalent of a 4lt bag of red wine that has been left to warm in the sun for several hours. Just like a good bottle of wine from Penfolds exists, there are several types of tequila and its sibling, Mezcal.

Tequila and mezcal both come from the noble agave plant, a spiky, desert-dwelling survivor. Tequila is made exclusively from the Blue Weber agave and hails primarily from Jalisco, while mezcal is the wild child, made from dozens of agave varieties and primarily produced in the Yukatan area. These two agave-based spirits have their own personalities, quirks, and ways of getting you into trouble.

The real difference between the two spirits lies in their preparation. Tequila’s agave hearts (piñas) are steamed in industrial ovens, producing a smooth and refined drink. Mezcal, on the other hand, is made the old-school way: by roasting the piñas in underground pits, a process that imparts its signature smoky flavor.

While I must admit I did gleefully knock back tequila shots with reckless abandon, a true connoisseurs know better. Good tequila and mezcal is meant to be sipped, much like a fine whiskey. Also, let’s set the record straight: tequila is NOT meant to have a worm. The worm (actually a moth larva) is a marketing gimmick for people to try to impress their mates.

If tequila and mezcal aren’t enough to quench your thirst, Mexico has plenty of other drinks to explore. We all know Corona, but there are lots of equally good beers with Modelo, Pacifico and Indio dominating the bars. And if you’re looking for something even more refreshing, the Chelada is your answer, made with just beer, lime juice, and a salted rim.

While straight tequila or beer was always an easy choice, we preferred to embrace the full experience, quenching our thirst with a vibrant mix of cocktails. From the timeless margarita to the beach-loving piña colada, every sip was a celebration of Mexico’s spirited charm.


December 2024: Mexico, Part 5

Palenque

Our journey in Mexico so far has largely been focused on the streets, markets and Zócalo’s in the various towns along the way. But there is a greener side to Mexico which we were soon to discover.

Leaving San Cristóbel, we head into the heart of Chiapas. The cool, crisp air of the highlands keeps you alert which is lucky as the road winds through steep, cactus laden hills, offering breathtaking views of the valleys below.

Rounding a bend we come across a runner, clad in a bright jersey and bandana bearing the image of the Virgin, slowly joging along the edge of the road. In his hand is a flaming torch held high above his head, the fire warming an already sweating face.

Behind him, a pickup truck, decked out in colorful balloons, streamers, and a large framed image of the Virgin, idles with its engine humming. Devotional music pours from its speakers, with several other people in the back waiting their turn to carry the torch.

No, this is not the olympic torch run but a celebration of the spiritual mother of Mexico, the Virgin of Guadalupe. In the days leading up to December 12 you’ll see people running, biking, or driving while carrying torches and images of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

These individuals are known as “antorchistas” (torchbearers) carrying a lit torch (una antorcha). Many of the faithful, old and young, fit and not-at-all-fit, participate in the relay runs. Eventually, they tire and pass it on to the next runner, and after several days of non-stop running, they reach the church in time for mass.

As we drive to Palenque we pass several antorchistas all on their way to Santo Domingo Church.

Soon, the body senses a shift as the crisp, cool mountain air gives way to a steamy, humid embrace. Outside, cactus and pine forests are replaced with dense jungle. The vibrant green of the tropical vegetation dominates the scenery, with banana trees, palms, and towering ceiba trees lining the roadside.

About halfway through the drive, we take a detour to the stunning waterfalls of Agua Azul. Their name, which means ‘Blue Water,’ perfectly describes the vivid turquoise hue of the cascades, a result of the high mineral content in the water.

The water flows in wide, gentle streams in some places and plunges dramatically in others. Each tier forms natural pools - a perfect spot to cool off.

Back on the road, the journey continues through winding paths and occasional sharp turns, Finally, after several hours of travel, we arive at Palenque in the later afternoon, excited about tomorrows journey into the jungle.

It is early in the morning but the air is already markedly humid. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy above, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow onto the jungle floor. Each step on the uneven path is accompanied by the symphony of the rainforest: the distant roar of howler monkeys, the melodic calls of some strange bird. Towering ceiba trees, sacred to the Maya, rise like ancient sentinels, their wide trunks wrapped in vines. Nearby, ferns and tropical flowers, some with vibrant bursts of color, line the pathways.

The deeper you go, the more it feels as though the jungle has a secret that it is trying to hide.

Slowly the secret starts to reveal itself. Occasionally, square rocks appear, far too regular to have been crafted by nature alone. Deeper in the jungle again it begins to whisper in your ear, slowly revealing the secret held within. Peaking out of the foliage, the ruins of forgotten temples rise through the canopy, their moss-covered stones hinting at the civilization that once thrived here.

Having finally revealed it self we realise we are standing in the middle of what was once a large Mayan city built between 500 and 700AD. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Zona Arqueológica Palenque is a place where history, nature, and mysticism collide.

We spend the next hour immersed in the jungle, uncovering the ruins it was trying to hide. We descend into deep underground stone channels, marveling at the ancient engineering that once directed water to the palaces. We dip our toes into centuries-old swimming pools, imagining the royalty who once bathed in these serene waters.

While this section of the city is still under the control of the jungle, other parts of the ancient city have been exposed by archeologists, with the jungle pealed back to reveal towering temples. Amazingly 1,400 buildings have been recorded, of which only about 10% have been explored.

The ruins of Palenque are home to remarkable structures, including The Palace Complex, distinguished by its iconic tower believed to have served as an observatory. Nearby stands the Temple of the Inscriptions, the most renowned of Palenque's monuments. In 1952, archaeologist Alberto Ruz L’Huillier made an extraordinary discovery here—a hidden passageway leading to the tomb of the great king K’inich Janaab Pakal. Inside, he uncovered the king's elaborately carved sarcophagus, which housed the breathtakingly adorned jade-covered remains of Pakal himself.

Climbing the steep stairs to the Temple of the Cross, perched atop a five-tiered pyramid, this sacred structure is crowned with an intricately designed roof comb. As we ascend, the effort is rewarded with stunning panoramic views that stretch across the dense, green canopy of the surrounding jungle and the scattered ruins.

It was time to say good bye to Palenque. Yet, the adventure isn’t over just yet—our next destination awaits: the enchanting city of Mérida.

SIDE NOTE

I mentioned the incredible food in Mexico. I need to start by saying it is nothing like the Mexican we get in Australia. There is not even a single mention of nachos on any menue. It is a flavor-packed rollercoaster of smoky, zesty, delights with spicy salsas and sauces flavour packed like nothing at home.

A signature dish of the region, cochinita pibil is a succulent, slow-roasted pork marinated in achiote paste, citrus juice, and spices. Wrapped in banana leaves and cooked underground to tender perfection, it’s typically served with pickled red onions and warm tortillas.

Dishes with names like Panuchos, Salbutes, Sopa de Lima, Poc Chuc, and Relleno Negro often left me guessing about what I was ordering. But with every bite, any uncertainty melted away, replaced by a full and happy belly.

Being invited to lunch at a local Mexican home feels like being wrapped in a warm tortilla of hospitality. We were lucky enough to be invited as part of our trip. The table is piled high with all the essentials: rice, beans, salsas in every color, and a stack of warm tortillas just begging to be stuffed.

Mexicans have a well-known affection for sweets, evident in the wide variety of candies and desserts available. Among them, my personal favorite was marquesitas—crispy crepes filled with cheese and natella with bannana on top.

Despite all the culinary wonders Mexico has to offer, tacos still hold the top spot in my heart—and honestly, it’s not even close.

Whether it’s smoky cochinita pibil, zesty poc chuc, or a stack of al pastor straight off the spinning spit, tacos are a flavor bomb waiting to explode in your mouth. But it’s not just about the taste—it’s the whole vibe. Tacos are a hands-on, lime-squeezing, salsa-dripping, napkin-grabbing celebration of messy, delicious joy.

So yeah, Mexico’s cuisine is a treasure chest of amazingness, but tacos? Tacos are the crown jewels.

December 2024: Mexico, Part 4

San Cristobel DE Las Casas

As night falls over San Cristóbal de las Casas, the charm of its cobblestone streets transforms into something truly magical. The already picturesque lanes become a stage for vibrant processions, one after another, weaving their way through the narrow streets.

A small group of children dressed as Mary and Joseph appear at the head of a procession. Angels with glittering wings and halos walk alongside, and Shepherds carry rustic staffs. Behind them, crowds follow, some adorned in traditional Tehuana dresses—each one a masterpiece, meticulously hand-embroidered with vibrant, colorful flowers on rich velvet, satin, or silk.

In another procession there are Parachicos dancers - each with wooden masks carefully carved and painted with fair skin, rosy cheeks, and a bold and fluffy wig made of bright yellow fibers on top. Each dancer wears a brightly colored poncho, intricately embroidered in reds, blues, greens, and yellows.

This is Las Posadas - a nine-day Christmas festival that re-enacts Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter in Bethlehem, blending faith, community, and celebration in a way that’s uniquely Mexican.

The processions dont stop during the day either. This one led by Charros, or mexican horseman (or woman), as they perform suertes which are displays of their skills on their horses.

In the heart of the city, Real de Guadalupe is a pedestrian-only street lined with colourful restaurants and bars that spill out onto the cobblestones. The celebration grows livelier at night as musicians play upbeat tunes on marimbas, children play amongst the christmas decorations, and the air is filled with the mingling scents of cinnamon, roasted nuts and freshly made churros. The music is only broken by the loud burst of firecrackers that continue through the night.

Like much of Mexico, our time in San Cristóbal revolved around wandering through its vibrant markets. The Mercado de la Caridad y Santo Domingois a labyrinth of stalls where Indigenous artisans from the surrounding hill towns bring their textiles, handmade clothing, and intricate jewelry to sell.

This maze of vendors, draped in tarps, feels like stepping into another world. It doesn’t take long before we lose all sense of direction, navigating aisles filled with embroidered blouses, woven blankets, and dazzling beads. The towering Iglesia de Santo Domingo church encircled by even more stalls, becomes our guiding landmark—our beacon for finding our way out. Eventually, we emerge, slightly heavier from the weight of a souvenir pottery jaguar.

Right next door is the José Castillo Tielemans market filled with fruits and vegetables, livestock, electronics, homewares, bakery goods, and much more. Its seemed the only thing they didnt have is English Breakfast tea after a fun experience of trying to explain what we were after using very poor Spanish.

One of the most iconic spots in the area is the bright yellow Cristóbal Cathedral, which is located within the bustling Plaza de la Paz. The cathedral was originally constructed in the year 1528 and has undergone renovations several times in the 18th and 19th centuries, particularly in response to the damage caused by large earthquakes that affected the region.

It seems there are more churches than streets, each adding to the towns charm. At either end of the city, you’ll find the Churches of San Cristóbalito and Guadalupe, perched on their respective hills. Climbing the steps up to Guadalupe Church provides a great viepoint to fully appreciate the red tile roofs, cobblestone streets and flower-strewn wrought iron balconies of this Spanish colonial town (it seems the puppy dog admired the view as much as we did).

While wandering through town, we made our way to the Church and Convent of Santo Domingo de Guzmán (Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán). Originally built in the 16th century, and even used as a jail up until this architectural gem underwent a restoration between 1999 and 2002, breathing new life into its historic beauty.

Inside, we explored the expansive courtyard and visited the Amber Museum, a fascinating space dedicated to Chiapas’ prized gemstone. Here, we learned about the formation, mining, and craftsmanship of amber, admiring an impressive collection of statues and jewelry carved from this ancient resin.

Most of the display boards were in Spanish, but fortunately, we found an English brochure at the front desk—a charming relic in its own right. Clearly typed decades ago and photocopied countless times, it added a touch of nostalgia to our visit,

Exploring further afield, we visited San Juan Chamula in the state of Chiapas. which is home to a unique church and cemetary. The village is tucked in the mountains at over 2200 metres and is an automous entity where the traditional indigenous culture of the Tzotzil Mayan people are kept alive.

Religion plays a central role to the community and at the centre of this is San Juan’s Holy building – Templo De San Juan dating from 1538. The church’s exterior is striking, its white façade adorned with vibrant green and blue trim, reflecting the colors of the surrounding mountains. Outside the church, locals in traditional woolen tunics mill about, selling candles and herbs. In the plaza in front of the church market stalls sell local foods, crafts, and textiles from under their brightly-coloured umbrellas.

The Templo is truly an unforgettable experience as the Tzotzil people have created a unique fusion of their pre-Hispanic Mayan belief system, Catholicism and surprisingly with Coca-Cola thrown into the mix.

As you step inside, you immediately notice that the rows of pews are absent, replaced by an open space where pine needles blanket the floor, creating a soft, fragrant carpet. The air is thick with the scent of burning copal incense, and thousands of candles, placed directly on the floor or in small glass holders, flickering in the dimly lit space.

Family groups claim their spot on the floor clearing the pine needles with their hands, scraped away the wax, and proceeding to melt their candles on the tiled floor. Healing rituals often involve drinking Coca-Cola or other carbonated drinks because burping is thought to expel evil spirits.

This was like no other church service I have seen I was captivated by these intriguing rituals while at the same time amazed that the building has not burnt down.

note: No photos are allowed in the church so the below are stock images

Near the Templo de San Juan lies the village graveyard, set among the ruins of the 17th-century Church of San Sebastián. The graves here reflect a deep connection to nature, each a simple mound of earth adorned with pine needles.

Historically, crosses on the graves were painted different colors to indicate the age or circumstances of the deceased. While this practice has faded, traces of it remain: black for those who passed in old age, white for the young, and blue for others.

SIDE NOTE

Traveling through Mexico, one thing that was present on almost every street corner was the classic VW Beetle. Everywhere we went, the unmistakable “dack-a-dack-a-dack” of its engine followed us, like a cheerful little drumbeat to our adventure. It was as if the entire country had decided these quirky cars were their national mascot.

Curious about this obsession, I dug a little deeper and discovered the roots of Mexico’s love affair with the Beetle. It all started in 1954 when the first VWs were imported. Fast forward to the 1960s, and Puebla opened a factory that churned out these iconic cars until 2003. To sweeten the deal, the government threw in tax breaks, making them affordable for nearly everyone. By the time Mexico City adopted them as taxis, VWs were practically a requirement for citizenship—at one point accounting for a whopping 40% of car sales.

The classic ‘Type 1’ Beetle is affectionately nicknamed Vocho or Vochito in Mexico. And you still see them everywhere: some looking like they just rolled out of a showroom, others displaying every dent, mottled paint and rust like battle scars.

As I read more about the Vocho phenomenon, I came across some colorful descriptions. One writer called them “basically sophisticated lawnmowers,” while another dubbed them “the car of the people.” Whatever your take, there’s no denying their place in Mexican culture. The Vocho isn’t just a car—it’s a vibe, a legacy, and quite possibly, the only vehicle that could make you smile even while stuck in traffic.

Like the Cities before, we could have spent several more days enjoying the vibe of San Cristobel but the adventure had to continue. This time off to Palenque.

See part 5 here

December 2024: Mexico, Part 3

oaxaca

The first thing that strikes you in Oaxaca is the color. The streets are a vibrant tapestry of hues, where buildings are splashed in every shade imaginable—rich terracotta reds, bright yellows, sky blues, and lush greens. It’s as if the city itself is a canvas, with every corner offering a new and exciting visual feast. If that’s not enough, colorful streamers crisscross above the streets, fluttering in the breeze, adding even more life and vibrancy to the already animated scene.

Each street feels like a work of art, and it’s not just the buildings that steal your attention—murals grace nearly every wall, telling stories of the past and present. Murals, some intricate and others bold and playful, showcase Oaxacan heritage, indigenous stories, political messages and some just a bit of fun.

Jalatlaco is a charming and historic colonial district known for its many beautifully adorned buildings featuring vibrant murals. As you turn the corner, you never quite know what you’re going to encounter next.

The ornate, but less colourful facades of colonial-era buildings stand in sharp contrast to the rest of the city. The zócalo, also known as the main square, is the heart of Oaxaca. On the northern side of the square stands the Cathedral of Oaxaca dating back to 1535. Built using locally sourced green stone, the cathedral's façade boasts a unique and distinctive hue different to the other churches we visited.

On the edge of the plaza is a striking installation called "Procession: Time of Giants", created by the artist Alberto Aragon Reyes. This collection of towering metal giants is an impressive sight, with each figure crafted from industrial materials like scrap metal and recycled parts.

Just a few blocks from the Zócalo, the Church of San Domingo occupies an entire city block, originally part of a grand Dominican monastery. Widely considered one of the most beautiful churches in Mexico, its Baroque façade is a stunning blend of European and indigenous design elements. As the late afternoon sun bathes the building, the church’s intricate details glow in a golden hue in contrast against the vivid blue Oaxacan sky.

The markets in Oaxaca are a sensory feast bursting with colors, aromas, and activity. At Mercado Benito Juárez, not far from the Zócalo, there is everything from fresh produce to woven textiles and hand-painted alebrijes (intricately painted wooden creatures). We also explored Mercado 20 de Noviembre with its famous pasillo de humo (smoke aisle) where meats are grilled to order and served with tortillas, salsa, and tangy lime.

Oaxaca is often called the birthplace of chocolate, with the region's rich history with cacao dating back to ancient times. The Zapotecs and Mixtecs cultivated the beans and used them in religious ceremonies, as currency, and in their daily lives. Oaxacan chocolate is distinctly different from what we are used to, as the coarsely ground cacao, granulated sugar, and cinnamon is combined creating a dark, bitter flavour.

The chocolate is not used just for sweets or drinking. Mole is a rich, velvety sauce used as a base with meats such as chicken or enchiladas. Celebrated for its intricate blend of over 20 ingredients, including dried chiles, nuts, seeds, and spices - and yes some include chocolate.

Each region of Mexico has its own twist on this culinary classic. Oaxaca, often called the "Land of the Seven Moles," is particularly famous for mole negro, dubbed the “king of moles.” This deeply flavorful sauce includes a touch of chocolate for a complex taste.

Feeling adventurous, I decided to try three different types: mole negro, mole poblano, and mole verde with enchiladas. While the experience was undeniably a cultural deep-dive, I’ll admit I will stick to tacos. Mole may not have won me over but it definately left a lasting impression.

But it’s not just the city that’s captivating—beyond its vibrant streets lies a world brimming with cultural, natural, and archaeological wonders which we had to explore.

We had the privilege of visiting an indigenous Oaxacan community, where we experienced the art of waist loom weaving—a fusion of craftsmanship and culture. The telar de cintura, or waist loom, has been a staple in Oaxacan communities for centuries, used to create intricate, handwoven textiles. The vibrant threads, echoing the bold colors of the city’s buildings, are woven into complex patterns that tell stories of local traditions, landscapes, and symbolism. While I’m not sure Kath will be wearing a traditional rebozo (shawl) anytime soon, we did walk away with a unique taco warmer, a perfect souvenir from an unforgettable experience.

We were also fortunate to be invited to have lunch with some hand made tacos over an open fire - yes much better than the mole.

Nestled in the Oaxacan Central Valley is the village of Teotitlán, where for centuries, families have practiced the ancient craft of weaving Zapotec rugs on foot looms. The wool is transformed into rugs in vibrant shades of gold, red, and green.

During our visit, a local artisan demonstrated the fascinating process, starting with spinning the wool into yarn. Then, using natural dyes sourced from tree bark, indigo, flower petals, alfalfa, and even the powdered cochineal bug, the yarn was colored. Once dyed, the yarn is carefully wound onto spools, ready to be woven into beautiful designs on the loom. While we couldnt bring back a large rug I did manage to purchase a small square as a memory of this unique craft.

Another place we visited is Monte Albán, a breathtaking archaeological site that, in many ways, reminded me of Machu Picchu in Peru.

Perched high above the Oaxaca Valley, this ancient mountaintop city, founded around 500 BCE, served as a thriving cultural, political, and religious hub for over a thousand years. Its grandeur is evident in the layout of its expansive plazas, pyramids, and ceremonial platforms, many of which are precisely aligned with astronomical events—a testament to the Zapotecs’ advanced understanding of the cosmos and their place within it.

Standing on these ancient stones, it’s strange to contemplate the civilization that flourished here long before the Spanish conquest.

It is not all monuments and ruins. Hierve el Agua is a stunning mineral formation resembling frozen waterfalls that have been intricately crafted by nature itself. With breathtaking panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and lush valleys, it was a great spot for a refreshing swim.

Located in the small town of Santa María del Tule, the Tree of Tule is a Montezuma cypress estimated to be over 2,000 years old and stands as one of the thickest trees in the world. It has a circumference exceeding 42 metres. and is adorned with a unique pattern of bark, giving it an almost mystical appearance.

Not far outside Oaxaca, we visited the Zona Arqueológica de Mitla. What sets Mitla apart from the other sites we’ve explored isn’t massive pyramids but its stunning geometric mosaics and patterns. The walls are adorned with intricate designs carved directly into the stone—no mortar, just incredible precision and artistry. Mitla, which translates to “Place of the Dead” in Nahuatl, was a sacred site believed to be a bridge between the living and the spirit world.

And in classic Spanish-colonial fashion, they decided to plonk a church right on top of one of the ancient structures.

With one more stop on our journey, what better option than a tranquil place to relax and cool off in a stunning Cenote Pebe. The word “cenote” derives from the ancient Maya word dz’onot, which translates to “sacred well.” These natural formations were regarded by the ancient Mayans as essential gateways for communication with the ethereal “underworld,” where they would ceremonially throw offerings to the deities of Xibalba, the gods of death and diseases. Fortunately for us, there were no actual sacrifices being made; instead, we were treated to a serene and peaceful experience as we gently floated in what felt like a beautiful underworld swimming pool.

With Oaxaca turning out to be one of our favourite cities so far we were excited to see what was in stall next as we moved on to San Cristobel De Las Casas. Unfortunately we had to survive an overnight bus ride for this journey.


December 2024: Mexico, Part 2

Puebla

Having left Mexico city, we travelled to Puebla, renowned for its Spanish baroque architecture, pottery and ceramics, and rich gastronomy. The historic center was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site with stunning buildings dating back to the 16th century.

With Christmas festivities in full swing, the central plaza was buzzing with colour and activity.

Just outside the historic centre, the streets become a fiesta for the eyes, louder than a mariachi band at a quiet café — bold, colorful, and impossible to ignore.

Many of the buildings explode with creativity, their walls brought to life by stunning murals featuring everything from traditional motifs to bold contemporary art.

We spent the day wandering through Puebla's vibrant streets, each offering its own unique charm. Callejón de los Sapos with its lively market and antique treasures (while not your normal tourist souveneir i bought a car number plate), while the Barrio de los Artistas (Artist Quarter) invited us to watch local talent bring their creations to life.

At the Parián Market, artisans showcased handcrafted gems, including the iconic Talavera pottery. Although we were tempted by the intricate designs, the best we could manage to carry home was a single, beautifully painted ceramic tile—a small but cherished piece of Puebla.

Goat cheese and raisins in a drink? Who would have thought this would become famous.

La Pasita is a small (standing room only) bar openend in 1916 by Emilio Contreras Aicardo. He invented a drink that gave the establishment its current name: pasita – a sweet liqueur made of raisins, served in a caballito (tequila glass), and decorated with a cube of fresh goat cheese and a raisin stuck on a toothpick.

Interestingly it is only open for a few hours each afternoon.

When it comes to Mexican spirits, tequila might get most of the spotlight, but mezcal is its smoky, soulful sibling is more famous in Oaxaca and Puebla. Mezcal is distilled from the heart of the agave plant, following an ancient and artisanal process, much of it by hand.

What i did learn is Mezcal, and a good tequila in fact, is to be sipped not as a shot. Remember - next time slow down, savor, and appreciate.

It seems the Mexicans have a fondness for insects. Not only do they put it in their drinks but it is a local snack. Dried chapulines (grasshoppers) are a unique and traditional delicacy and are enjoyed as snacks, in tacos, or as garnishes for various dishes. Unfortunately I could not get Kathy to endulge.

Beneath the streets lies an intricate network of tunnels, tracing their origins back to the Spanish colonial period. Initially built for water management, these subterranean passageways hold a wealth of secrets. Over the centuries, they are believed to have served as hidden routes for soldiers, priests, and even daring smugglers.

Catedral de Puebla was onstructed between 1575 and 1690, and showcases a blend of Gothic, Moorish, and Baroque styles. The elaborate façade outside is matched by the equally ornate interior with paintings and intricate altarpieces.

The Church of Santo Domingo, is equally impressive with its intricate baroque façade and ornate interior featuring opulent gold leaf decorations, elaborate sculptures, and breathtaking ceiling.

But there’s another “religion” in Mexico, and it’s called Lucha Libre. What’s that, you ask? Picture this: a wild blend of acrobatics, slapstick comedy, and crowds so excited, they put European football fans to shame.

Welcome to Lucha Libre, Mexico’s thrilling world of professional wrestling, where masked wrestlers defy gravity, bounce off ropes, and pull off moves that break every law of physics. You’ve got your heroic técnico (good guy) and your sneaky rudo (bad guy)—the battle between good and evil is real here.

And let’s not forget the fashion. The masks? They’re as colorful as a piñata, and the outfits are straight out of a superhero movie. The crowd? Let’s just say they’re more pumped than if they were watching the Super Bowl, the World Cup, and a concert all rolled into one. It’s not just a sport—it’s a full-throttle, mask-wearing, action-packed spectacle!

Just outside Puebla lies Cholula, home to the Tlachihualtepetl Pyramid, also known as the Tepanapa Pyramid. You might think the world’s largest pyramid is in Egypt, right? Think again. What I quickly learned is that this massive structure is actually twice the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza! Its base stretches 400 by 400 meters, with a total volume of 4.45 million cubic meters. Unlike most pyramids, though, it’s not as easy to spot. That’s because the Spanish built a church on top, so you’ll find a quaint little church standing proud atop this ancient giant.

Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de los Remedios (Our Lady of Remedies Church) is a significant 16th-century Catholic Church that the Spanish constructed atop the ancient Tlachihulteptl Pyramid. It provides amazing views of the surrounding city.

What makes the view even more spectacular is the backdrop of two towering volcanoes—Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl—looming majestically over the church. These mighty peaks, known as the "Smoking Mountain" and the "White Woman," provide a dramatic setting.

While not as famous as Our Lady of Remedies Church, there seems to be a church on every street corner such as Parish of San Pedro Cholula.

Like its neighbouring suburb, Cholula streets are a riot of colour and art.

Unfortunately, our time in Puebla and Cholula must come to an end so it is time to move on to our next adventure in Oaxaca.

See part 3 about Oaxaca here.

December 2024: Mexico, Part 1

Mexico City

Why Mexico, you ask? Well, let me paint you a picture - Tacos, margaritas and tequila! If that is not enough what about jaw-dropping history and beaches that look like they’ve been filtered by Instagram. Yes, we were looking for an adventure.

When I told people I was heading to Mexico, I got the usual barrage of concerned questions about safety. "Is it safe? Shouldn't you pick somewhere else?" But honestly, you only live once. (lets just hope it is a long time!)

Our travel itinerary for the next month. While our total sum of spanish words could be counted on one hand, I had the most important memorised - “dos cervesas por favor”

After spending only 24 hours here we knew it was the right decision.

Welcome to El Zócalo, the giant living room of Mexico City. Plaza de la Constitución is where everything happens – protests, festivals, mariachi performances, and the countless tacos being sold from corner stalls.

Standing tall and proud next to El Zócalo, the Metropolitan Cathedral is a mix of baroque, gothic, and neoclassical styles constructed between 1573 and 1813 (which explains the mash-up of styles). Inside, gold-covered altars, towering columns and intricate carvings reflect Mexico’s colonial past.

Just steps away from El Zócalo, the ruins of Templo Mayor reveal the ancient heart of the Aztec empire. Though archaeologists found parts of the Templo Mayor in the early 20th century, it was not until 1978 that excavation began in earnest. Walking along the elevated walkways you peer down at what was once the heart of Tenochtitlán, the Aztec capital, in the heart of a modern city.

Forget night clubs – Mexico City's parks are where the real party’s at. As the sun sets, Parque México, Alameda Central, and even random street corners transform into open-air dance floors with locals of all ages moving to the rhythms of salsa, cumbia, and danzón. Despite my best efforts to get Kathy to dance with me, our two left feet were best left off the dance floor.

Mexico City has more people living here than the entire population of Australia and it feels like they are all out in the street. Beyond the parks the streets themselves were full of people, as though a stadium full of winning, chearing supporters had just been dumped out on the road.

To truly experience a city there is no better place than the local market. The smells, the sounds, the shouts of vendors trying to sell you everything from handmade crafts to questionable tourist trinkets – it’s all part of the charm. But it is the food markets that stand out with tamales, herbs, fruit and sausages all being sold side by side. And yes, the occasional dried and roasted grasshopper snack (chapulines are a thing) up for grabs.

While I am sure the City is busy most times of the year, there was something special about being here during the Christmas festive. The city pulls out all the stops and the atmosphere is pure magic as we watched the christmas parade.

Bosque de Chapultepec is Mexico City’s answer to New Yorks Central Park – but bigger and with a castle. With everything from rowing a boat on the lake, to visiting the zoo, it’s was the perfect escape from the city buzz.

The Metro is a cheap and easy way to get around the bustling city, but it certainly comes with its own unique challenges. Some say it feels like an extreme sport during the hectic rush hour, making it a mode of transport best avoided unless you genuinely enjoy very intimate close contact with strangers. If that does not deter you, the ever-present fear of pickpockets silently relieving you of all your valuable belongings will likely give you pause.

Yep - we chose to ignore all of this well-meaning advice.


The Museo Nacional de Antropología is like the ultimate Mexican time capsule. Aztec calendars, Mayan artifacts, and giant Olmec heads that make you question how they were carved, let alone moved in to place. And the crown jewel - the massive Aztec Sun Stone. This 25-ton intricately carved basalt slab describing Aztec life is one of Mexico's most famous symbols. The stone was carved in the late 1400 but it was only discovered in 1790 buried beneath the Zócalo.

Feathered headdresses, conch shell instruments, and hypnotic drumming – Concheros dancers put on a show that’s part performance, part spiritual experience. This dance has roots in pre-Hispanic times and blends indigenous and Catholic traditions. It’s colorful, intense, and captivating.

Imagine climbing a tall pole and then gracefully spinning down head-first only being held by a flimsy rope – that’s Los Voladores de Papantla. It’s part ritual, part daredevil act, with performers, dressed in bright traditional outfits, perform this centuries-old ceremony to honor the gods.

Diego Rivera was a Mexican painter whose bold large-scale murals depicted Mexican history and society, especially the 1910 Mexican Revolution. His murals are larger than life, and some what morbid when you look closely.

While we could have easily spent a whole week exploring Mexico City, there was more to experience further afield. Just an hour outside of Mexico City, Teotihuacan is the kind of place that makes you feel like Indiana Jones – minus the danger plus more sunblock. This ancient city is home to the towering Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. Teotihuacan dates back to around 100 AD, and wandering around its massive avenue, Calzada de los Muertos (Avenue of the Dead), is like stepping back in time.

Xochimilco, located 28 km south of Mexico City, features a network of canals and artificial islands. This unique area is important for farming and is popular with colorful party boats that travel up and down the canals.

Standing amid rows of vibrant, juicy, lime green lettuce, one could easily be mistaken for being in a contemporary farm. However, these bountiful crops are part of a rich 1,000-year-old tradition that dates back to the time of the Aztecs.

We were fortunate enough to visit the fascinating community of San Pedro Tlahuac, which is home to Nahuatl descendants who are diligently working to keep their traditional way of life alive. These highly productive farms are, in fact, small artificial islands built on a freshwater lake, a unique practice known as chinampa farming, which has garnered recognition as a world heritage site.

With all this organic food available what better excuse to make our own fresh tacos.

While we could easily have spent several more days exploring Mexico City it was time to move on to our next city - Puebla - famous for mole poblano, chiles en nogada and Talavera pottery.

See Part 2 for this adventure.

December 2024: Los Angeles

So how would you describe LA? A tourism guide might wax lyrical about it being “a vibrant metropolis known for its rich cultural diversity, sun-kissed beaches, flourishing entertainment and film industry, boasting iconic landmarks such as the world-renowned Hollywood, the picturesque Santa Monica Pier, and the majestic Griffith Observatory”

Me, on the otherhand, thinks it more like the Gold Coast on cocaine. The streets are lined with the reminders of a drug-fueled crisis, while the air is thick with smog due to the constant traffic jams, choking the skyline and giving the city a permanent haze. The beaches, while iconic in name, are nothing more than average stretches of sand, with the glittering allure of the Pacific overshadowed by the grime of the surrounding urban landscape.

Luckily, LA is only a 2 day stop over for our trip to Mexico. While many rasied concerns about safety in Mexico, I do wonder if this concern is misplaced and they should be more concerned about the state of America which i feel is teetering on the edge of chaos.

Despite this, i still tried to look past the negatives and capture a few images of the City.

The Famous Hollywood Strip is home to the renowned Hollywood Walk of Fame, which features thousands of stars embedded in the pavement, celebrating film and entertainment. Disappointingly, the rest of the strip presents a mix of gaudy shops, tacky attractions, and questionable bars.

Needing to escape the hustle and bustle of the City, we made the decision to hike up into the hills and visit the Griffith Observatory. With views of the city (and its smog) and the famous Hollywood Sign, interesting astronomy information and the surrounding park, it became a welcome escape.

With only two days and already one too many in the City, we headed to the beach. Venice Beach is known for its iconic boardwalk, Muscle Beach and unique locals.

Unfortunately i found the beach itself is nothing special with average surf, drab sand and too many hawkers. The boardwalk has street performers more interested in making a quick buck than adding any real tallent. It’s a mix of sketchy characters, homeless encampments, and a general sense of neglect.

Apology to all those who think otherwise………

One good note was the hotel we stayed in. Called Hotel Ziggy, it was hip with cool music based decorations thoughout, a great bar and band at night and surprisingly affordable compared to the other hotels i looked at.

At least i found one positive from our short time in LA.

But now the real reason we are travelling - to visit MEXICO!!

September 2024: Blue Mountains, NSW

The Grand Cliff Top Walk

For outdoor enthusiasts and nature lovers, the Blue Mountains offer a treasure trove of hikes, enough to keep anyone occupied for years. From easy strolls to adrenaline-pumping extremes, this region offers endless exploration. Yet, despite all this variety, I’d only scratched the surface. That was until the news of the Grand Cliff Top Walk popped up in my social media feed, igniting my curiosity and sparking the idea for a hiking weekend with friends.

Opened in early 2024, the Grand Cliff Top Walk is not entirely new but a combination of pre-existing tracks that have been stitched together into one seamless trail. Although it’s promoted as a two-day experience (perhaps to encourage overnight stays), the 20-kilometer route can easily be conquered in a single day—at least, that was our plan!

Our adventure began early in the day at Wentworth Falls. Following the distinct black cockatoo emblem on the wayfinding signs, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves on the edge of a towering precipice, gazing down into the breathtaking Jamison Valley. The vastness of the view is humbling, a sheer drop of ancient sandstone cliffs leading to a sea of green treetops stretching to the horizon.

While the Grand Cliff Top Walk strives to be a unified track, it’s still a work in progress. Some sections are closed due to recent flood damage, and parts of the trail require detours onto nearby roads. Even the cockatoo symbols that guide the way seem to lose their sense of direction at times, with confusing or poorly marked sections testing our navigational skills. But for hikers, these challenges are part of the fun.

Sometimes it is the detail that makes hiking special with the native flora and fauna putting on a show.

The trail isn’t only about sweeping views of the Blue Mountains. In several parts, it descends into lush, rainforest-clad gullies, with waterfalls both near and far to admire. We were treated to the sights of Wentworth Falls, Gordon Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, Katoomba Falls, Empress Falls, and the ever-serene Leura Cascades—each one offering a moment of tranquil beauty amidst the rugged bushland.

Although much of the hike allows you to immerse yourself in the beauty of the Australian bush, the proximity to suburbia is never too far away. Emerging from stretches of dry sclerophyll forest, we would sometimes hear the unmistakable sound of “Fore!” as we passed by the Fairmont Resort and the Leura Golf Course. These reminders of civilization are even more pronounced as the hike ends, transitioning from tranquil bushland to the throng of tourists snapping selfies at the Three Sisters lookout. The paved viewing platform, large enough to land a jumbo jet, is a stark contrast to the quiet solitude we experienced earlier on the trail.

Despite a few closed sections and the occasional suburban reminder, the Grand Cliff Top Walk was a great way to spend time with friends. And it also allowed us an excuse to relax and enjoy some heard earned drinks at the end of the day.

June 2024: Bali, Part 3

While it could be easy to spend the next three days between the pool and cocktails, this was not the reason we chose to come to Nusa Penida.

As I descended into the blue depths, my heart pounds with a mix of excitement and nerves. This isn’t just any dive—this is my first dive in almost 20 years. As I manage to equalize and settle into a steady breathing rhythm, a dark shadow looms in the distance. Mesmerised, the extra air bubbles floating to the surface provide a clear indication of my increasing breaths.

As the shadow draws nearer, it transforms from what appears to be a rubberised jet fighter plane into an organic form, resembling a bird flying underwater. Finally, the full majesty of the manta ray comes into view. It glides directly towards me, requiring a slight duck of the head as it passes above. I can see every detail—the intricate patterns on its belly and the serene, almost wise expression in its eyes. Time seems to stand still as we share this moment.

 

When we first set out to go to Bali, snorkeling with manta rays was always a priority on the agenda. However, I hadn’t considered using this opportunity to refresh a long-lost hobby: diving. With some prompting by Kathy, I did a refresher course in the pool the day before to prepare me for today’s unbelievable experience.

Sitting on the edge of the boat moored at Manta Bay, the heavy weight of diving gear adds to my nerves about getting back underwater. However, the tension disappears in seconds as I watch the calming giants of the sea glide into the cleaning station, allowing the next manta to arrive.

Reluctantly, we leave the mantas behind and move on to another dive site where I plunge myself among thousands of fish and coral. Like riding a bike, the muscle memory of diving returns, however I barely manage to emulate the graceful turtle floating from coral to coral in search of food.

Another day, another adventure. Extracting ourselves from the water, we set off to explore a couple of the well-known coastal beaches Nusa Penida is famous for. Our first stop is Angel’s Billabong, a rock pool not unlike many you would encounter along the NSW coastline. The difference here is the hordes of tourists standing around the edge, with a few brave souls venturing into the pool, waiting for the rogue wave to wash them out to sea.

 

Not far from the rock pool lies Broken Beach, a picturesque cove eroded out of the cliff face with a single archway allowing water to flow in and out from the ocean. However, all I can muster is a feeling that it’s a lesser version of the stunning coastline in Victoria, Australia.

As you can tell, I am probably at odds with the hundreds of blog posts that gush about how amazing these places are. It’s a reminder of how fortunate we are in Australia to have such majestic coastal scenes that are unrivalled in the world. While Nusa Penida offers its own unique charm and beauty, it also underscores the sheer magnificence of the coastal landscapes back home.

20 years ago, little more than locals or the intrepid traveller was aware of the golden sands below a shear horseshoe cliff line, adjacent azure blue waters. Now, because of the photogenic nature of the beach, Kelingking Beach has become another ‘insta’ landmark loved to death.

Arriving at Kelingking Beach, it is as though the crowds have magically materialised from nowhere. The parking lot is bigger than that of Bunnings Warehouse.  Reaching the cliff edge, visitors clamber for that perfect shot (that everyone else already has), jostling for an uninterrupted view. Women dressed in large floppy hats and flowing ballgown dresses, more suited to a nightclub, pose while photographers climb trees and perch on makeshift timber ladders, straining for ‘that shot.’ The surrounding area is part construction site, part tourist trap, obliterating what was once a pristine coastline.

I recently read that the ongoing construction aims to build a glass cliffside elevator down to the beach. I fear that the continued demand for social media posts and the need to build infrastructure so people don’t have to ‘walk’, will ultimately destroy the natural beauty that draws visitors in the first place.

As I quickly capture some images, I can’t shake the feeling that I am no different from the other tourists contributing to this decline. We retreat swiftly, hoping to find some sites more untouched by the ravages of popularity.

While the last week has been filled with stunning beaches, iconic Instagram spots, and vibrant marine life, the true essence of Bali lies not in its famous landmarks but in the rich tapestry of daily life. From the heartwarming welcomes of its people to the smiling faces of the children, the simplicity of local stalls, and the roadside warungs selling street food, it’s hard not to be captivated by the array of colors, scents, and sounds.

Walking through a local village, you’ll notice the narrow streets clearly designed for scooters, the main mode of transport. On these scooters, you’ll see all manner of items being carried—from multiple family members to a bathtub—proving that nothing is too large or unwieldy. The constant friendly hoot of the scooter horn warns the numerous dogs that roam the streets to keep clear. Behind the row of ramshackle stalls, the land opens up to fields of vegetables, with chickens and pigs searching for any food scraps of value.

Bali’s spirituality is also deeply woven into its daily life. The island is dotted with temples, each with its own significance and rituals. Every house has a colorful shrine, with the sweet smell of incense always filling the air. On every corner you come across ‘Canang sari’, intricate daily offerings crafted by the Balinese people as a symbol of gratitude and respect to the Gods. These beautiful woven bamboo baskets hold a vibrant array of rice, flowers, incense, sweets, fruits and spices.

While Bali’s scenic beauty and famous attractions are undoubtedly alluring, it’s the everyday life of its locals that have left a lasting impression on me.

As the sun drops below the horizon on the last day of our trip, I am grateful that we chose to avoid the well-trodden paths of Kuta, Sanur, and Nusa Dua. Instead, we ventured further afield to discover the true heart of Bali.

June 2024: Bali, Part 2

While we could have spent all week snorkeling at Amed, it was decided we should venture out and dedicate a day to discovering new landscapes and experiences beyond the enchanting waters of this seaside gem.

Driving through the interior one defining feature is the green terraced fields against the backdrop of towering palm trees, creating a checker-board pattern in the landscape. As farmers tend to their crops and the cows quietly graze, it is hard not to reflect on the madness and noise and of City life back home. It’s a reminder that amidst the rush and chaos of city living, places like this exist, where time seems to stand still, and nature takes its own leisurely course.

Searching Amed on Instagram, it is not long before you come across hundreds of photos of the gates of Lempuyang Temple, perfectly framing Mount Agung in the background. The white painted split gates, known as the “gates of heaven” date back to the 13th and 14th century. But like many beautiful places, they have become ‘insta’ honey pots as people flock to capture the same image as thousands have before them, involving someone striking all manner of poses between the gates.  

 You may have heard the stories: queues of over three hours, high entrance fees and mandatory shuttles to get there.  And yes, it is all true. Even the pictures you see of what looks like a reflective pool in front of the temple is not reality. Instead, one of the temple workers sits in front with a mirror and will take pictures for you with what looks like the perfect reflection.

Despite what appears to be an important religious space turning into a theme park, is it worth it?  Definitely, Yes.  In a surprising twist, the day was foggy obscuring any views of Mount Agung.  But this brought its own unique atmosphere where repetitive insta photos was replaced with a more tranquil place in keeping with the most sacred place of worship in Bali.

Ujung Water Palace is a former King’s palace, now a serene garden (although the serenity was broken by some locals doing very bad Karaoke). Its name means "Garden at the End" or "Garden at the Edge". Built in the 1920’s, it was almost entirely destroyed by the eruption of Mount Agung in 1963, later rebuilt in 1998. We spend the next hour wandering around the gardens and explore the buildings that seemingly float on the ponds, their distinct Dutch colonial white façade, reflecting off the water.

Our next stop is Tirta Gangga, a royal water palace and Hindu Temple devoted to the Dewa Tirta (the god of water).  Built in 1948, but destroyed almost entirely by the eruption of nearby Mount Agung in 1963 (seems to be a reoccuring theme). It has been rebuilt comprising lush gardens, intricate stone carvings, and an arrangement of tiered pools. Translating to “Water of the Ganges”, luckily it is cleaner than the Ganges, being fed by natural springs.

We join the hordes of both tourists and locals alike, hopping across the stone steps in the pond, with hundreds colourful koi fish looking up pleading to be fed. There is a legend that rats living in the surrounding area were once transformed into golden fish which now inhab the sacred pools.  If only this was possible in the Ganges.

Not being a coffee drinker, the idea of visiting a coffee plantation was not high on my highlight list of things to do.  Even less so, finding out that it is coffee that has been retrieved from the poo of a Luwak. This shy creature has a love of eating the fruit from coffee plants.  The beans pass through its digestive tract and, like a coffee percolator, out comes coffee (well, almost). This has been given some mythical power which supposedly result in a smoother flavour creating the rarest coffee (read this as most expensive) in the world. While the tour of the plantation was fascinating, and the tasting plate of numerous types of flavoured tea and coffee was ok, I think I will stick to my drinks without poo.

Later, I found a study that reported more than 80% of all coffee sold as Kopi Luwak today is fake. So that expensive coffee we drank was likely to be just a warm cup of placebo.

While the day exploring the east of Bali and the various temples and tourist stops was fascinating, it is the simple things that captivate me more. Among all the wonderful experiences, none is as pure as the simple innocent pleasure of watching children play.

Nusa Penida

While we could have spent our entire week in Amed, the adventurous spirit in us meant it was time to explore another part of this paradise.  So, jumping on a boat we take a short ferry ride to Nusa Penida for 3 nights.  This undeveloped island is not famous for its night clubs (there are not any) but the ability to swim with the Manta Rays (more on that later).

Settling into our hotel, I soon realised I could get very used to a day that looks something like this:

  • wake up and step out of the room directly into the pool for a quick refreshing swim

  • jump out of the pool and walk the 5 steps over to the outdoor restaurant for a breakfast fit for a king

  • Step off onto the sand and directly into the ocean to snorkel amongst the tropical corals and fish

  • Return to the restaurant for Nasi-goreng with its fragrant kecap manis sauce, loaded with chicken, shredded omelette and chilli

  • Alternate between pool and beach

  • Complete the evening with dinner of juicy skewers of Indonesian chicken satay

  • watch the sun go down with a pina-colada cocktail (or two) in hand - two for one is very dangerous

  • Start over again the next day.

Part 3 HERE

June 2024: Bali, Part 1

For years, our close-knit circle of friends had dreamt of celebrating our collective milestone—turning 55—with an unforgettable overseas adventure. After sifting through several travel options, we decided on Bali, not for its famed nightlife or bustling party scene, but for the promise of adventure and tranquility.

Determined to avoid the chaos of Kuta, we set our sights on Amed, a hidden gem on Bali's northern coast. Here, far from the madding crowds, we sought a different kind of excitement—a journey into Bali's serene and unique landscapes.

The journey to Amed, a village on the eastern coast of Bali, began with the hum of anticipation. Leaving the bustling streets of Denpasar behind, we wind our way through the mountains, the landscape transformed into a picturesque blend of emerald rice terraces, towering volcanoes, and rustic villages. The winding road to Amed offers glimpses of Bali's beauty that many Australians do not experience, a stark contrast to the island's more commercialized areas.

As we near Amed, the peaks of Mt Batur and Mt Agung stand proud looking out over the vast expanse of the Bali Sea. The first sight of the coastline is mesmerizing—black volcanic sands meet turquoise waters, and traditional jukung fishing boats dot the shoreline. This idyllic village, famous for its snorkling and laid-back atmosphere, promises to be an escape from the daily life back home.

Our accommodation, a charming villa nestled in lush gardens just metres from the beach, provided a perfect vantage point to base ourselves for 4 nights. Lazing by our private pool it was difficult to pull ourselves from spending the whole time here.

However adventure awaits. So rising at 1AM in the morning we make our way east to tackle the climb up Mt Batur (Gunung Batur).

After a somewhat harrowing drive in the dark twisting our way ever higher into the mountain, we eventually leave the car and revert to more simple transport on foot. Hiking up in complete darkness, with the exception of a flashlight to illuminate the few metres in front, it is hard to tell how high we have come.

The walk is enough to get the breathing heavy and make your muscles ache, but just before it becomes uncomfortable we reach the top. As dawn breaks, the sky turns from ink black dotted in stars, to pastel blues and pinks before streaks of orange fill the sky as the sun breaks the horizon. Sitting drinking a hot chocolate and warm bannana sanwiches (kindly made by our guide) we witness a breathtaking panorama —the island bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun, the imposing Mt Agur in the foreground, and the distant monutains of Lombok visible across the sea. Below, the reflections of the village lights on the lake a sign of the day just begining.

Fun Fact: Mount Batur is an active volcano, with the most recent eruption occurring in 2000. It features a caldera formed by a collapsed top, creating Lake Batur. Our climb took us up the 700-meter-tall stratovolcano, which is part of the larger caldera's rim rising above the lake's surface.

Bali's monkeys are an integral part of the island's charm, particularly the long-tailed macaques.  These mischievous creatures will swipe anything from sunglasses to a snack from any unsuspecting tourist.

It is not just the heights of mountains that provided us the opportunity for adventure, but the opportunity to explore the depths of the underwater world. We spend several days snorkling the clear, warm waters of Jemeluk Bay and Lipah Beach. Here we immerse ourselves in a kaleidoscope of colors from the corals and fish. Clownfish darting in and out of anemones, parrotfish nibbling at the coral, and even a sea turtle gliding gracefully by.

Jemeluk Bay is known for its incredible coral reef and unique underwater temple. Additionally, we explored the sunken Japanese shipwreck located just a short distance from the beach, providing a fascinating snorkeling experience.

While the golden sands of Australian beaches may be unrivaled, the black volcanic shores of Amed Beach in Bali hold a unique allure. Along this striking coastline, traditional jukung fishing boats rest, waiting for nightfall to venture out in search of mackerel and other catches. In an era where fiberglass boats dominate, these timeless timber vessels evoke a sense of nostalgia and cultural pride. The history of outrigger canoes spans thousands of years, and though construction methods have evolved, the deep connection to tradition remains evident. Each jukung is a work of art, adorned with colorful sails and personalized names, reflecting the craftsmanship and heritage of their owners.

While our days are full of adventure, our nights unfold in a comforting ritual of togetherness. Each evening, we gather to watch the sun set, sipping cocktails as the sky transforms into a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks. Sitting watching the sun dip below the horizon I am reminded of the true purpose of our journey—to savour these moments with our closest friends. As we share stories, laughter flowing out over the bay I feel a profound sense of gratitude for the incredible bond we share. These sunsets become more than just a beautiful view; they are a testament to the joy of friendship and the simple pleasure of being in each other's company.

See Part 2 here

MAY 2024: TJORITJA, NORTHERN TERRITORY. PART 2

6 DAYS HIKING THE LARAPINTA

DAY 4: Section 12 – Climbing ’Rwet Yepme’ - Mount Sondar

Along with my heavy breathing, the footfall of my boots is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows to the circular light cast by my head torch on the feet of the guide ahead of me. Beyond her, a dense void of darkness swallows everything in its embrace.  Trusting her instincts, she navigates along the narrow track only occasionally losing the path. I am sure if I was guiding, I would have led our party off the edge or into the endless wilderness never to be found again.  Glancing back, I see a line of small headlights bobbing like fireflies in a conga line, marking the trail of fellow adventurers ascending the mountain. As the hours pass, climbing in the dark becomes a meditative process only broken by the thrill of anticipation for what lies ahead.

I’ve never attempted to walk through the night to a mountain summit, but that is today’s adventure. Mount Sonder is located at the western end of the Larapinta Trail and is usually the end of the 12-day trek.  Known to the Arrernte people as ’Rwet Yepme’ - The Pregnant Lady – it is the fourth-highest peak in Australia’s Northern Territory at 1379 metres high. While it may not be high in comparison to European or Asian mountains, the views are equally spectacular.

The 16km-return hike to the top of Mt Sonder could be done as a day walk but there is a tradition to see the sun rise from the summit. With the brain doing some quick calculations it takes a while to compute what time we actually have to get up in the morning.

The day, or should I say night, began with a 1.30AM wakeup call with the music of Men at Works “Land Down Under’ filling the night air.  Through half closed eyes and a “head full of zombies”, I manage to get dressed with nothing inside-out.  Stumbling out of the swag the body has no idea why I am eating breakfast at 2AM in the morning so we bundle ourselves in the van for the drive to the beginning of the hike.

As we climb higher the still night air is replaced with a growing breeze.  Mt Sonder seems to have its own weather system, and as we get higher the winds begin to blow stronger.  It is not long before regular gusts are enough to drive you sideways threatening to blow you off the shear cliff that lies somewhere in the darkness.

Spending most of my life in the City the concept of darkness is misleading.  We are forever surrounded by lights, even if it is only the glow of light pollution.  Out hear, you get a true sense of the meaning of the words ‘Pitch Black’. However, after another hour of walking, the black inkiness sky is slowly replaced with a bright parallel line of colour on the horizon just as we reach the pinnacle.

While the cold winds continue to buffet us, the emerging pink of the light rippling on the clouds warms the mind. Then, the golden orb, first peaking above the horizon, bursts over the mountains spreading golden rays across the valley below.

While the sunrise is spectacular, it is the first shafts of light that illuminate the adjacent range, the valleys appearing like the backbone of an animal, that keeps me mesmerised.  Bathed in sunlight the rocks are transformed into dizzying shades of red and ochre. As the sun rises further, it casts a shadow of Mt Sonda across the valley.  The scale is almost too much to take in with 360-degree views of breathtaking scenery. In front, lies the seemingly endless landscape in its great vastness.

Having got drunk on the beauty, it is time to head back down the mountain.  In the early morning light, the rugged unspoilt terrain continues to keep me inebriated. It is only the steep cliffs that I didn’t see on my climb up that sobers the mind.

Returning to camp, we are all full of chatter on our achievement having conquered our fears and experiencing a view only few are willing to attempt. Opting for another bath in natures water hole, we return to Ormiston Gorge for another refreshing ice bath.

With the adrenalin long subsiding, and the early start catching up, what better excuse to return to the swag for a late afternoon nap. Along with my shallow breathing, the distant chatter of the Red-Tailed Black cockatoos is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows and my eyelids close disapearing into a dense void of darkness swallowing everything in its embrace.

DAY 5: Section 10 – Finke river to Ormiston Pound

A huge canvas awning stretches from one Ghost Gum to another, its organic curves evoking the charm of a Bedouin tent, offering a haven for desert wanderers. Beneath it lies a rustic kitchen, crafted from natural timbers and adorned with an eclectic mix of furniture, creating a space that feels both inviting and homey.

On any other day, this awning would shield us from the unrelenting desert sun. Today, however, it serves a different purpose. The MacDonnell Ranges, typically an arid expanse where life has adapted to survive in harsh conditions, has come alive. Every now and then, liquid gold falls from the sky, breathing life into this parched land.

When our guide, Violet, mentioned the possibility of rain the day before, I had dismissed it with the skepticism of someone accustomed to the rare and elusive showers of this region. Yet, not wanting to tempt fate, I opted for the shelter of a tent over the swag. This proved to be a wise decision, as I awoke to the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on the canvas.

Gathering at our communal kitchen, the group debates our plan for the day. Option 1: don our rain jackets and brave the trail. Option 2: wait a few hours and hope the rain passes. With our legs still aching from yesterday's hike, the idea of a leisurely morning is irresistible. We decide to relax, read, and play cards, letting the soothing sound of rain serenade us.

But the call of the trail is strong. Despite the drizzle, we eventually don our raincoats and set out for section 10 to Ormiston Pound. This section, kinder and gentler, winds and twists over rolling hills, crosses Davenport Creek and the mighty Finke River, now alive with the gift of rain.

Starting at Mt Sonar Lookout, we soon find ourselves tracking along the Finke River, past towering River Red Gums. Crossing to the other bank without wading through cold water, we carefully hop from one rock to another, thoughtfully placed by hikers before us.

Hiking in the rain might seem unappealing to some, but here, it adds a magical dimension. Small channels, normally dry, come alive with the gurgle of flowing water. Dry riverbeds transform into streams. While the blue sky is replaced with grey sky the colours of the landscape become more vivid.  The rain-saturated colors of the desert bloom painting the landscape in vibrant hues, with wildflowers bursting forth in pastel purples and pinks, like an intricate Aboriginal dot painting. There are over 760 species of flora to be found along the trail and the rains have brought a profusion of Mulla Mulla, Sturts Desert Rose, Paper Daisy, Desert Fuschia, Curry Wattle and Bush tomatoes. Some of the hills could be mistaken for a planted suburban rockery.

We navigate our way to Hilltop Lookout, with panoramic views of the Heavitree Range and Mount Sonar. Descending towards George Creek, the hillsides are blanketed with various types of spinifex. Some are knee-high and vivid green, others a bluish hue with long seed heads swaying in the breeze. These plants, used by Aboriginal people for their resin, appear soft and inviting from a distance. Up close, they reveal their true nature—each blade a slender spike, ready to pierce skin more easily than a doctors needle.

The rain not only brings colour and growth but also stirs the local wildlife. Although we didn’t spot the rare night parrots, flocks of budgerigars flit from tree to tree, revelling in the showers. The landscape feels alive, every drop of rain a blessing in this arid land.

Being one of the shortest sections, we soon reach the familiar embrace of Ormiston Pound. Despite the intermittent rain, which discourages a dip in the Gorge, we return to camp and our Bedouin tent. We sit under its protective canvas, grateful for the rare opportunity to experience the Larapinta Trail in its rain-soaked splendor. The rain has not just sustained life here—it has rejuvenated our spirits, making us feel more alive and connected to this ancient, vibrant land.

DAY 6: Ellery Creek Big Hole and Standley Chasm

Sitting atop Brinkley’s Bluff, gazing out over the expansive vastness of Hugh Gorge, I found myself pondering a question that had drifted in my mind throughout the past six days: is it the destination I seek, or the journey to reach it?

At home, time unfolds with the jarring beep of an electronic alarm and moves through a hazy transition of traffic, meetings, emails, social media, cooking, before collapsing into bed, the brain and body exhausted and beat.  In a world where time seems rush faster than a freight train, hiking offers a rare sanctuary – a chance to slow down, to savour each step, and to calm the mind.

Earlier today we bid farewell to our canvas home, packing up camp for the last time.  While one of us decided 7.30am was a good time for a celebratory beer, I opted to save our drinks for a more fitting moment later tonight.

Our journey back to Alice Springs commenced with a brief stop at Ellery Creek Big Hole—a pristine waterhole framed by sheer quartzite cliffs, sculpted over millennia by the relentless flow of floods.

If it was not for the need to return to work (and the family) we could have spent a full day enjoying this natural oasis. Reluctantly, we move on to our last stop - Standley Chasm, known to the Western Arrernte people as Angkerle Atwatye, translating to "Gap of Water."

While most tourists disembark from buses and stroll the flat 200 meters into the gorge before returning, we chose one final challenging hike—a steep ascent that would have rivaled any gym's stair-master.

 

Climbing out of the gorge and reaching the top of the bluff I find a rock to sit and ponder. 

Over the last 6 days the relentless city noise has been replaced with the chorus of bird songs, the madness of the streets traded with solitude, the bombardment of technology exchanged with uninterrupted 360 degree views. Each morning not only brought fresh challenges, but also a rejuvenation of the spirit. Each day was not only measured in kilometres but in moments of connection – connection with nature, with Aborigional culture, with country, with friends, with one-self.

 

 The last week has been a bucket-list of experiences: we pushed our lungs to limit; treked under night skies; braved winds that threatened to topple us from lofty peaks, experienced the outback's rare rainfall, marvelled at the grandeur of gorges, indulged in meals that rivalled any fine restaurant, slept under a blanket of stars in a simple swag, and gathered around crackling campfires sharing tales and laughter. Yet, what made it truly extraordinary was embarking on this adventure with cherished friends.

 

As I sit here, overlooking the vastness that stretches before me, it becomes clear: it is not merely the destination that beckons, but the transformative journey itself—a journey none more enriching than that along the Larapinta Trail.

 

May 2024: Tjoritja, Northern Territory. PART 1

6 Days hiking the Larapinta

DAY 1: Simpson Gap and Ormiston Pound

With my feet dangling over the edge of the rocky outcrop, I gaze at my boots, lightly dusted with the red sand that clings to their edges. I ponder whether I have walked enough to break them in for the hikes ahead. Beyond my feet, the vast natural amphitheater of Ormiston Pound stretches into the distance, enclosed by a spectacular ring of rust-red quartzite mountains, mirroring the hue of the sand on my boots. It is here that i sit at the beginning of a 10 km loop that gently rises to one of the Pound’s lookouts. It also marks the start of our adventure along the Larapinta Trail.

The Larapinta Trail is an epic trek of about 230km that winds its way through the west MacDonnell Ranges. But for us, we won’t be tackling the full 230km, rather a more manageable 70km over 6 days. While part of me has the desire to do this hike solo carrying everything I need on my back, the reason I am here is a motivating friend, Gabe, who invited me to join her on this shortened version. The upside is that the trip delivers the best parts of the trail’s conversation-stopping panoramic vistas and deep cool water filled gorges with only the need for a day pack. While less ambitious, this does not mean it was easy with enough elevation to get the heart pumping and the legs burning.

Our journey began earlier in the day when our guides picked us up from Alice Springs for a short 20-minute drive to Simpson Gap. As we leave Alice, the ever-present 4G bars on my mobile phone disappear, not to be seen until the end of the trip. While I miss my family, I don’t miss the constant pings of messages and emails or the habit of scrolling through meaningless social media. I am happy to be in a place where I feel at peace in the vastness of the Australian outback, reception-free and disconnected.

Arriving at Simpson Gap, we meander up to the shaded waterhole that the Arrernte people believe is the mythological home of a group of giant perentie (goanna) ancestors.  Looking at the distinctive rock formation, dry sandy riverbed and white ghost gums, it’s as though I have been transported into an Albert Namatjira painting.

Standing in the dry riverbed, we pass sand through our hands as we share stories of why we are here, reminiscent of the storytelling traditions of Aboriginal people through the generations. Gabe, the motivator, managed to convince six friends to join her on this trip. While she may not have contributed much else to the process, we wouldn’t be standing here connecting to country if not for her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to convince Kathy to join, but luckily a replacement, conveniently named Cathy, made up our party of eight.

This is not my first trip to the West MacDonald Ranges, having spent a week travelling here as part of a longer 4WD trip through the centre and up to Darwin.  Bu it would be the first time immersing myself fully in a multi-day hike along the range.

Having shared our stories, it was back in the van and off to commence our first real hike of the trip around Ormiston Pound. Dropping down from the ridge lookout, we continue through the flat center, finding a rhythm as boots connect with the earth. It is not long before the shade of a large tree next to a waterhole signals lunch.

With bellies full, we continue into the pound occasionally stopping to breath in the vastness of the landscape.  As the cliff walls converge, we mimic the flow of water, hiking along the riverbed. The last time I did this walk, it ended with a refreshing (read: freezing) chest-deep water crossing. I was somewhat disappointed (not really) that due to recent floods that had shifted the sand bars, we were able to cross with barely wet shoes. If Day 1 is a taste of things to come, I am certain by the end of the trip, we will be overflowing with awe.

With a sense of acheivement already, we head off to what will be our base camp for the rest of the trip. It isn’t long before we are settled in, and the guides busy themselves preparing dinner. We, on the other hand, sit around the crackling fire, watching it like a primal television as we dine on hors d'oeuvres and wine.

At this moment, I appreciate Gabe’s choice of hike, where freeze-dried concoctions are replaced with gastronomic feasts of kangaroo, wild-caught barramundi, lamb cutlets, various vegetables and salads, followed by dessert. This is hiking in luxury. Thanks, Gabe, for being the motivator. I take it all back.

DAY 2: Heavitree Range and Count Point

As dawn's first light gently penetrates my eyelids, it takes a moment for my mind to remember where I am. Unlike the jarring blare of an electronic alarm clock, sleeping in a swag out in the open tunes you to nature’s own clock where the sun rouses you from your slumber.  This is accompanied by the melodious chorus of zebra finches and grey-headed honeyeaters, serenading me into consciousness. Nestled on the edge of a dry riverbed, the soft sand beneath my swag rivals the comfort of any luxury hotel bed. Only the occasional buzz of a mosquito during the night serves as a reminder of my wild surroundings.

With an early start, we head towards Section 8 of the Larapinta Trail. While the full hike spans 12 sections, we only get to sample the menu, but what a taste it is. Section 8, through the Heavitree Range and Count Point, is undoubtedly the chef’s special.

Our morning begins with a short yet steep climb up the Heavitree Range, navigating through a landscape dotted with desert fuchsias and brittle-branched cypress trees. The West MacDonnell Range unfolds before us in three parallel ridges: the Pacoota, the Heavitree, and the Chewings. Flying into Alice Springs, these ranges appeared flat and featureless from above, but the reality is far from it. As I huff and puff my way up the incline, my admiration grows for the trail runners who, only a week prior, braved the "West Macs Monster," a grueling 231 km non-stop race (the 2023 record was 39 hours, 56 minutes, 26 sec!). I find a momentary reprieve in the sight of a spinifex pigeon, its wispy crest mimicking the surrounding tufts of spinifex grass, basking in the gentle morning light.

Reaching the ridgeline, the track levels out, allowing us to marvel at the undulating granite ridges stretching endlessly east and west. Segments of the range are chaotically beautiful, ancient rock formations bending and buckling like molten rubber. Below us, the valley hums with life, the distinctive whistle of the Whistling Kites piercing the air as they glide on thermals, ever watchful for prey.

After several stops to drink in the breathtaking views, we drop our packs for a well-deserved rest and take a side trail up to Counts Point, standing at an elevation of about 1,000 meters. Describing this view is akin to describing a meal from a five-star restaurant: stunning, spellbinding, mesmerizing. Yet, even these superlatives fall short. The panorama from Counts Point is one of the most awe-inspiring on the entire Larapinta Trail. From here, three parallel ridges—the Pacoota to the left, the Heavitree directly ahead, and the Chewings to the right—stretch into the horizon, with the majestic Mt Sonder, our summit goal in a few days, standing sentinel in the distance. Counts Point earns its name from the sheer number of peaks visible on either side of the MacDonnell Ranges. While it’s tempting to stay and soak in the vista all day, the trail beckons us onward.

Despite the arid landscape, water’s ancient presence on the Larapinta Trail is undeniable. Descending from the range, we traverse slabs of ripple-marked rock, remnants of an ancient seabed now perched 1,000 meters above sea level and 1,300 km from the nearest ocean. These quartzite layers, formed 900 million years ago, predate even the earliest vertebrates.

As we continue, the landscape shifts dramatically. We move from a cooling forest of old hill mulga trees into a barren, rock-strewn expanse reminiscent of the Martian surface. These rocks, deposited haphazardly during floods, offer a stark contrast to the surrounding scenery. Eventually, we enter a gorge, climbing up to Serpentine Chalet Dam. Built in the 1960s in a failed attempt to create a tourist destination, the dam is a man-made intrusion in an otherwise pristine canyon.

While many Larapinta hikers would camp here for the night, we return to our base camp. Those on the overland trek often brave the dam's freezing waters for a wash, but we enjoy the luxury of a warm water rinse. With a bowl of hot water, I head to a small, thatched-screened area on a hill. There, a simple rock serves as a seat and a carved post holds my towel. Bathing naked under the open sky, with only the stars for company, is a primal and deeply satisfying experience.

Back in my swag, gazing up at the heavens of a million stars, occasionally streaked by a shooting star, I watch the moonrise until my eyes grow heavy. Exhausted and content, I drift off, ready to embrace another day in this magnificent wilderness.

DAY 3: Inarlanga Pass and the Orcha Pits

“Before the Dreamtime, there was nothing. The Earth was flat and lifeless; no stars glittered in the sky. The universe was dark and silent. The Ancestors lay sleeping, deep in the ground where they had passed the ages. But the Ancestors were restless; their long sleep was nearing its end. On the first morning of the world, they awoke, flexed their ancient limbs, and began calling the world into existence.

In the centre of the continent that would one day be called Australia, the Ancestors dreamed of a long chain of mountains stretching east-west across the red, level country of the desert. They dreamed of billabongs and rivers, ghost gums and animals. They filled the waters with creatures and the country with food. Then the people came and sang their songlines, which radiated out through the chasms and gaps to the distant corners of the land. And the Ancestors returned to their slumber.”

While the last two days have offered a visual feast, the Larapinta Trail’s allure extends beyond its natural wonders. This ancient path is rich with Australian history, echoing with timeless Dreaming tales and the sobering history of Indigenous subjugation that still reverberates today.

The Arrernte people have called this part of Central Australia home for tens of thousands of years. Their stories tell of the Caterpillar Dreaming that called their lands into being and it is these stories that are written into the landscape of the ranges and billabongs and cliffs of day 3.

The name "Larapinta" originates from the Western Arrernte language—Lhere-pirnte means "salty river," referring to the Finke River that carves through the outback. Today’s hike begins where we left off at Serpentine Chalet, continuing through part of Section 8 via Inarlanga Pass, and looping back via the Arrernte Walk. Departing the Chalet (don’t expect much—just a concrete footing remains), the track hugs the base of the Heavitree Range, its steep, rocky face a natural northern barrier. It is for this reason the rare gaps in the range have been, and continue to be, an important connecting point for any passage north-south.

One such gap is Inarlanga Pass, named after the elusive echidna. This narrow corridor was a vital route for local Indigenous tribes heading to ceremonies at Giles Spring, under Mt Giles. Only the men of the tribe were allowed through, as it marked the boundary between different tribal groups.

As we enter the pass, we pause to quietly seek permission, then proceed in solitude, allowing each person a moment of isolation. The silence gradually gives way to the soft trickle of water along the creek bed and the calls of Emu-wrens and Dusky Grasswrens flitting among the branches. Ghost gums sway gently in the cool breeze funnelling through the canyon, carrying with it the ancient Dreaming stories of the past.

Life seems more intense in the cool, protected creekline with hundreds of butterflies emerging from their pupa to fill the air. The sheer cliff faces rise either side, trees twisting skyward cling to its edge having somehow got a root hold in the smallest of cracks. Below the towering red rock prehistoric looking cycads, little changed since their ancestors 200 million years ago, line the creek. This rare endemic species has been isolated for millennia in refuges in the MacDonnell Ranges, it’s nearest relative located 1,400 kms away.

Like countless Aboriginal people before us, we eventually emerge on the other side of the range. Though not connecting with tribes or attending ceremonies, we recognise the profound significance of this narrow opening. We pause, feeling a deeper connection to the land and a more reflective understanding of humanity’s place in the timeline of this ancient landscape.

While the traditional owners have roamed these lands for over 60,000 years, it is but a blink in the eye of the 1.8 billion-year-old gneiss rocks. Over time, they have melted, crystalised, cooked and twisted with wind, water, fire and ice carving them like a wood turner sculpting and whittling away the rock over the eons.

Retracing our steps through the pass, we join the Arrernte Walk heading south with the Pacoota range in the distance. This gentle trail meanders through foothills, just above creek lines shaded by river gums. We eventually reach the Ochre Pits, another site of great cultural importance.

About 300 million years ago, dramatic mountain-building events heaved and rolled the earth thrusting the MacDonnell Ranges to heights rivalling the present day Himalayas. Horizontal sediment layers were upturned to near-vertical, exposing bands of yellow, white, orange, and red clay on cliff faces. The different coloured layers result from varying amounts of iron oxide, with higher iron creating red hues and lower iron yielding white, kaolin-rich clay. Aboriginal people mined these pigments for decoration and trade, exchanging them along ancient routes stretching from the north to south coasts of the continent.

After a day of trekking through the rugged beauty of the Trail, we return to our camp, weary but fulfilled. Instead of the customary warm birdy bath, we decide to embrace nature in its rawest form with a refreshing – and freezing – dip in Ormiston Gorge. As we wade into the icy waters, tired from the day's journey, our muscles experience their own version of an ice bath. The frigid water, the sharp intake of breath, the rush of blood – all heightened the sensation of being truly alive.

Surrounding us, the sheer cliffs of the gorge glow like embers in the late afternoon light, casting a warm, fiery hue over the water. The juxtaposition of the cold water and the warm light create a magical setting, making this natural bath a moment to remember.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows over the ancient geology, this fittingly marks the end of today’s adventure, reflecting on the profound and timeless Aboriginal stories etched into the landscape of the Larapinta Trail.

PART 2 to HERE

 

APRIL 2024: Oxley Wild Rivers National Park, NSW

A public holiday provided a great excuse to hitch up the camper trailer and head away for the long weekend. Our origional plan was to head south to the Snowy Mountains, however horse culling meant a large section of the park was closed for several months. So pulling out a map and closing the eyes, the finger landed north on a green patch we have never ventured.

Oxley Wild Rivers National Park is part of a World Heritage Area, with its Gondwana Rainforests, dramatic gorges, waterfalls, and wild and scenic rivers proving to be a lucky choice for us to explore and experience the beauty of the area.

Named after John Oxley, who explored this area in 1818, its wonders were well known long before this with the Dangaddi people living here for thousands of years prior.

While much of the 145 thousand hectare park is inaccesible wilderness, there are several campsites on its edges with easy access to the numerous waterfalls that are the star attraction of the Park.

Dangar Falls, McDirty’s Lookout, Mihi Falls via Mihi Track

Located 18km from Armidale, Dangars Gorge Campground is the start of several walks to explore the gorge.

McDirty’s Lookout is an out and back walk of approximately 6km from the campsite, following a well-formed trail. Not far into the hike, you are greeted by the breathtaking sight of Dangards Falls, plunging 120m into the vast abyss below. The trail then winds along the cliff edge, offering numerous stunning views of the gorge, including a detour to Rock Wallaby Lookout. Finally, the walk concludes at a scenic platform, providing a perfect vantage point to soak in the panoramic vistas.

Mihi Lookout heads south from the car park and is an 8km out and back track (although less if combined with the above walk). This heads into the eucalypt woodland replacing gorge views with lots of kangaroos and wallabies to keep you occupied.

Reaching Mihi Falls we were somewhat disapoined with the flow of water but the hike was still well worth it.

Dangar Falls (left) and mihi Falls (right).

The sheer sided walls of the Gorge are caused by the slate in this area which splits vertically. While it is easy to get vertigo looking into the depth of the gorge, the brain gets just as confused looking at the vertical cliff face questioning how the trees and vegetation manage to cling to its edge.

We chose to camp at Apsley Falls Campground - any yes it even had flushing toilets!!

Tia Falls

35km from Walcha it is not long before you turn off the highway taking a dirt track through farmland until you reach the National Park enterance for Tia Falls campground and picnic area. The landscape dramatically changes from green rolling grasslands to vertical shale cliffs dropping away to the river below.

Following along the western side of the gorge, the Tia Falls walk is only 2km out and back but gives multiple mouth opening views along the way.

Apsley Falls

This is the most accesible of the waterfalls, featuring a short loop track leading from the car park. The first of the lookouts is called McMillans Lookout named after a Walcha resident who built the original near vertical stairs that dropped down into the gorge. Back in 1902, Ted Baker, Jim McMillan, and "Wattie" Joiner undertook the arduous task of building a wooden stairwell that descended its way from the gorge's summit down to the water's edge. Every piece of timber utilized in this perilous endeavor was made by hand. The original stairway remained in use until 1932 when safety concerns led to its partial dismantling. From this vantage point, visitors are treated to a direct and unobstructed view of the majestic Upper Apsley Falls.

The Oxley Walk is a 4km out and back trail along a well maintained track. It crosses the Apsely River suspension footbridge and continues along the edge of the northern side of the gorge through cliff top woodlands of snow gums and New England stringybark. Multiple lookouts offer breathtaking views of the waterfalls and gorge.

Further around, the Lower Apsley Falls comes into view. It is hard to believe that despite the water already cascading 65 meters over the Upper Apsley Falls, it plummets a further 58 metres down the second falls.

ps: We couldnt resist sneaking off from camp to go and grab a couple of cold beverages from the local establishments.

April 2024: Palm Cove, Queensland

(apology up front - this was our wedding anniversary so i left the camera behind so the iphone had to do)

30 years of blistful marriage (i had to say that in case Kathy reads this) so what better excuse to head north for a few days to Palm Cove near Cairns, Queensland.

As a surprise I booked the ‘Reef House’, a small boutique resort right on the bay.

The first thing that greets you when you arrive is the 300 year old Melaleuca trees that shelter the colonial style building. With a laid back vibe, this white-washed, timber louvered, open air resort is luxury from the minute you step inside.    

The Original Reef House was built in 1958 by a Cairns bookmaker who lived there with his family.  In 1970 the house was opened as a restaurant with limited accommodation of three suites in the garden.  In 1972 the ‘Reef House’ reverted to a private residence hosting Prime Ministers and celebrities from around the world. Now an adults only retreat, it was named the number one hotel in Australia by TripAdvisor in 2024.

We had several days being pampered with daily canapes, wine tasting, relaxing by the opulent pool (or I should say pools) and amazing personal service. While it is not your classical 5 star hotel resort, it does not pretent to be. Rather it is like visiting your wealthy grandmother who is willing to do anything for you.

While you could easily spend days not leaving the resort, we chose to extract ourselves from the pool and make the most of the time here.

Stepping out of the front door, in only a few steps you are standing on white sand with the ocean lapping enticingly on its edge. However, unknowing tourists would not be aware that two deadly animals lurk in the waters. If the Irukandji jellyfish does not sting you then a wandering saltwater crocodile may (you have to love Australia!)

We chose a safer way to get in the water, on I should say on the water, heading out for a sunrise Kayak paddle.

Just off Palm Cove is a Resport that once hosted Hollywood actors Jennifer Aniston and Keanu Reeves. It now makes for a different scene that could be used as a backdrop for a Hollywood survivor episode.

The island was bought by a Hong Kong bases billionaire for $5.68 Million in 2012 but has been abandoned allowing nature to reconsume it.

The Queensland Government has made multiple threats to cancel the lease if it is not restored.

As we were with the guide we had permission to explore the resort with its swamp like swimming pool, gym with plants growing inside and rooms strewn with broken furniture.

While visiting this far north we could not miss the opportunity to spend the day out on the Great Barrier Reef.

March 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

For someone who spends most of the time exploring this great country in a camper trailer and 4WD, every now and again it is nice to go back to simpler times fitting everyything you need into what you can carry on your back.

Not wanting to bite off more than i could chew, we settled for a very simple overnight stay at Tallows Beach in Bouddi National Park requiring a very small walk in.

Moonrise over Tallow Beach

Tallow beach is a short 1km hike down hill from the locked gate with some stunning views of Tallow and Little Tallow beaches, down to Barrenjoey in the south.

The campground is small with only six sites available but nicely laid out on a large grass area behind the dune. As a result it is sheltered from the wind but close enough to be lulled off to sleep from the sound of the waves. There is only a pit toilet with no wood fires or water – so be prepared.

After a hearty dinner of chicken cacciatore - yes the freeze dried packet meals are not that bad - i spent the night watching the moon rise over Tallow beack with the lights of Sydney twinkling in the distance.

While the hike in to Tallow Beack is short, that does not mean there is a shortage of things to do. The near by Box Head Trail is a short 4km (from Tallow Beach) out and back hike. The treack meanders through the bush before opening out onto several rocky outcrops then follows the cliff line out to the point. From hear you get great views of Barrenjoey, Lion Island, Broken Bay and out across the ocean.

Heading back to Hawke Head Drive, the Flannel Flower bushwalking track runs between Tallow Beach and Lobster Beach.

While there were no flannel flowers when we walked, this was made up for with the towering angophoras with their limbs twisting in all directions like a 100 legged octopus. the track continues to meander along the ridge before reaching a lookout with expansive views over Broken Bay, Umina and Pearl beach. The track then passes through some private property and the back of houses before dropping down several hundred steps to the shore of Lobster Beach. While there is no car access, it is clearly popular with numerous boats lining the shore.

February 2024: Ganguddy-Dunns Swamp, NSW

While Dunns Swamp may not have the best name, i think it must keep the crowds away from this beautiful campsite in Wollemi National Park. Where else will you find sandy beaches, swimming amongst the ducks, hikes and views, aboriginal artwork, caves, a place to paddle and a great shady campsite (with facilities!), so close to Sydney. So with Kayak on board, we headed off for the weekend to get wet.

Little did we know we would get more than just wet while we were away!

Waking up to the sounds of black cockatoos, it’s not long before the kayaks are blown up and we are gliding on the mirror-like water. Heading upstream, swamp hens and pied cormorant look on from the shore wondering who was intruding on their breakfast. We travel as far as we can, the inflow slowly narrowing and winding through the marshes. As the kayak scrapes on the sandy bottom we turn and head back towards the weir. The lake was formed with the construction of Kandos Weir built to supply water to the Kandos cement factory back in the 1920s.

Downstream the marsh edges are replaced with towering sandstone gorges, having been sculpted by wind, rain and erosion over time. From our kayaks we hug the edge exploring the ledges and crevices, with one rock appearing to be suspended overhead.

With a brief summer shower cooling us down it provided a glimpse of what was to later come that night.

Camping is summer has some great benefits. It’s hot enough to swim and you don’t need to pack lots of warm clothes. However, one thing you forget about is the possibility of a summer storm rolling in. And this is exactly what happened on this trip.

Much like the big bad wolf, it puffed and puffed and blew the house down - well our friends tent actually. Over 30 minutes we had lightening, hail, drenching rain and howling winds. Then, as quick as it came, it disappeared leaving one very flooded campsite.

Luckily for us the camper trailer remained upright with no damage.

Day 2 we woke to a beautiful morning, so the kayak was replaced with walking shoes for an easy hike up to Pagoda Lookout then on to the Weir.

Following the meandering path along the lake shore we disturb a lyrebird which quickly disappears into the undergrowth. IT is not long before we reach the base of the impressive rock pagodas. From here it’s a short but steep climb to the top of the rocks themselves which requires a little bit of rock climbing at the end. These unique rocks remind me of beehives with their dome shaped formations. Reaching the top, we are greeted with stunning 360-degree views over the river and valleys. It is from this vantage point that you can appreciate the way the Cudgegong River cuts through the landscape.

Heading back down (always harder than the climb) we turn back on to the main track towards the weir.  The track heads slowly climbs up through the bush, some well-placed stairs and climbing rails making life easier. Continuing along the track after the weir we reach the Long Cave.  While it is really just a long rock overhang, it is still impressive.  From here the track loops back the way we came.

With the weekend coming to an end dark storm clouds begin to brew on the horizon.  Not wanting to get caught in another gale, we quickly pack for home, the end of another lovely camp.

Luxury - indoor swiming pool!

Its wetter inside the tent than outside….

February 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

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