Tag Archives: short breaks

September 28, 2013

Incidental travel

By the dragonfly

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Health and wellbeing articles are always banging on about getting incidental exercise – like taking the stairs, gardening, getting off the bus one stop earlier, or sending your document to the work printer on the other side of the building so you have to walk to get it.

Then there are those pelvic floor exercises you’re supposed to do while you iron (who does that? Ironing, I mean).

If incidental means ‘accompanying but not a major part of something’, then incidental travel is the trip you have when you’re not really travelling.

For me, it’s sitting on the beach looking out to sea when suddenly a hump back whale cracks through the surface and tosses itself into the air over and over again.

It’s walking along a familiar bush track when a koala, completely zoned-out on eucalyptus juice, comes toddling towards you. It senses you (or hears your dog panting and drooling) and stares myopically in your general direction before taking to the nearest tree,  climbing a metre up and hiding its face. A bit like a two year old kid thinking if they cover their eyes you won’t see them.

It’s those snatches of conversation you hear that transport you back to favourite places, like the tres chic french woman and her elderly mother chatting over coffee. Or make you laugh hysterically (on the inside) like the loud mobile phone conversation on the bus that finally ends with: “Well, I haven’t got time to sit around drinking tai chi all day you know”.

It’s when that huge golden moon hangs close to the horizon, or you just happen to wake in the middle of the night to see Orion perfectly framed in your bedroom window…

It’s not always possible to head off to another part of the world, even when you’re busting to. Which makes incidental travel a bit of a sanity saver.

Marcel Proust puts it best: The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

There’s a lot to be said for fresh eyes…

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , | posted in short breaks, Travel, Uncategorized, Wellbeing

August 24, 2013

Hobart – the end of the rainbow

By the dragonfly

It’s officially the last week of winter in Australia and while Brisbane has been feeling more like summer, Hobart is delightfully crisp and the peak of Mount Wellington is lightly sprinkled with snow.

We’re back in Tasmania this week for work and play – and to take in more of this endlessly photogenic city. The pictures tell the story…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

We’re staying in Wrest Point Casino. I remember coming here – well, trying to get through the front door – while I was prac-teaching in Hobart in the 1980s. It was Australia’s first legal casino, so there was a super strict dress code for this posh, state-of-the-art venue.

But the guys I was with didn’t cut it in the best-dressed department and we didn’t quite make it beyond the bouncers in the foyer. C’est la vie.

It’s looking a little tired now and the gamblers aren’t exactly the who’s who of Australia (oh, that’s why they let us in), but just nearby on a grassy stretch of land at the edge of the bay there’s plenty of action.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Ducks, pied oystercatchers, seagulls and other water birds mingle on the lawn outside the casino under a waning moon. It’s a festival of birds.

Meanwhile in Berridale, a short boat ride from Hobart, the Museum of Old + New Art (MONA) nestles in the landscape waiting to impress. Like a fortress, it holds a whole other world within.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

And when you’ve immersed yourself in incredible, often confronting works of art in this underground space, you can come up for air and indulge in delicious food and bevs…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Moo Brew beer tasting at MONA

Back in Hobart, Saturday morning meanderings through Salamanca markets must be followed by some R&R in Jack Greene’s, one of our favourite bars.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Upstairs at Jack Greene’s is the perfect place to hang out…

Of course, there’s world-renowned whisky to be tasted at Nantes, galleries bursting with the exceptional creations of local artists, and a whole waterfront to wander along.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

With the wilderness not too far away and those endless water views, Hobart – well, all of Tasmania – really is pure gold at the end of the rainbow…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Past posts about Tasmania:

Bruny Island Cruising

1 Comment   |  tags: , , | posted in Australia, Photography, short breaks, Uncategorized

May 24, 2013

Climb every mountain… on Lord Howe Island

By the dragonfly

A life lived half in the city and half on the coast has left both EB and I temporarily speechless. The upside is I’ve overcome my fear of packing, but that’s another story. I’m taking a mental break with some retrospective travelling while we adjust to our life in motion. It’s 2011, we’re off to Lord Howe Island, and I have no idea what I’m in for…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

We’ve just landed at Lord Howe Island, 600km off Australia’s east coast. It’s a tiny speck on the ocean dominated by two enormous mountains,  Mount Gower and ‘little bro’ Mt Lidgbird.  EB points at the biggest one (in case I hadn’t noticed).

That’s Mount Gower.

I’ve been here before, back in the day with my parents, so I nod. Yep. That’s Mount Gower.

We’re climbing it tomorrow, he informs me.

I shudder the full length of my desk-fit body. Eight kilometres straight up.

No, I say. EB looks at me incredulously. What do you mean no? I mean ‘never’. I’d love to, but I can’t do it. I just can’t.

EB appears to agree, reluctantly booking in for the climb later in the week – on his own.

He is ever the optimist. So, he leads me off cycling around the island, walking the trails, climbing every mountain.

Except Mount Gower. Never Mount Gower.

Bring it on… or something

Way too early one morning, I’m on yet another path that hugs the spectacular rugged coastline. This one leads to the base of  Mount Gower (Don’t even ask!).

The walk is long enough for me to find comfort in a group where some find rock hopping challenging. Okay, I’m still nervous about the 8-plus km straight up, but I’m suddenly glad I decided to come.

Imagine how annoyed I’d be with myself if EB returned and told me the group wasn’t made up of fearless fitness freaks and rangy mountain folk. Just people like me – excited, in a slightly hysterical way, but definitely more puffing than puffed up.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

The rope-assisted climb begins and I’m remembering how much I love this walking-slash-scrambling up mountains thing, edging along narrow paths above sheer drops, challenging my fears (and yes, there’s nowhere to hide when EB knows this about me!).

A few tough but amazing hours later, we reach the summit and find ourselves in a mystical forest where pathways made by wild creatures could just as easily lead you off the edge of the cliff.

Our guide Jack Shick is a fifth generation Islander and third generation mountain guide. His passion for this place – and shimmying-up-palm-tree ability – is already obvious. But wait, there’s more.

A bird’s-eye view

Jack points out some elegant birds, with wingspans slightly over a metre, gliding on the thermals high above us.

Providence Petrels, he says. This is the only place they breed, and you can ‘call them down’. Yeah right.

Then he starts making weird noises that sound suspiciously like mating calls.

Suddenly one of these totally wild and extremely rare birds plops to the ground at Jack’s feet and fearlessly climbs into his hands. Then there’s a lot of serious plopping going on as several others land in awkward feathery bundles around us.

Their landing ability may be severely lacking, but they have to be the extroverts of the bird world.

They soon toddle off, unimpressed by the motley bunch of humans. So do we, back down to a sunny spot overlooking Mount Lidgbird.

For me, there’s always a moment, on a walk like this, when I look back to where I’ve come from and feel stunned. How did my legs carry me that far or that high?

Soon EB and I are sliding and scrambling down the mountain with two 13 year-old boys who have energy to burn (and yes, our well-honed parenting instincts are in full swing!).

At the bottom there’s a lot of whoop-whooping going on (mostly in my head). Not just because it’s a fascinating climb or even because I conquered the mountain – but because I did something tougher. I faced down my fears.

And there endeth the lesson.

Except… all that learning maketh me peckish (and thirsty). Time for a celebratory bubbly and a very civilized dinner in the fabulous Pandanus restaurant.

…and there’s still some walks we haven’t done yet.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

On the track to the Goat House Cave…

A ‘climb every mountain’ chorus line: It’s all here. Pick your grade – from 1-5. There is Transit Hill (2 km return), Malabar Hill and Kims Lookout (5 hours return), Goat House Cave (5 hours return and awesome), Mount Gower (8 hours return), Rocky Run and Boat Harbour, Intermediate Hill and more. (Note to self: next time, hide all maps from EB).

Climb the mountain…

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Australia, short breaks, Trekking

February 22, 2013

Another Byron Bay sunrise…

By the dragonfly

When our weeks are so jam-packed that the fast-lane looks like easy street, there’s nothing better than jumping in the DA and heading off for some chill time in Byron Bay.

We arrive late afternoon Friday and, as always, head straight to the beach.

In January, ex-tropical cyclone Oswald cut a devastating path through Queensland and hammered northern New South Wales on its way to rain on Sydney’s parade.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Ex-tropical cyclone Oswald leaves its mark on Byron Bay’s pristine shoreline.

The evidence of Oswald’s passing hits us immediately.

The sand has been effortlessly carved away, the beach is re-configured, swaths of coastal vegetation are gone.

But today, it’s calm and raining gently – and the insanity of city life and relentless storms has slipped away.

It’s one of those rare moments you just want to hang onto, when even the grey skies and persistent drizzle can’t dampen our spirits.

If I was any more relaxed, I think I’d fall over backwards.

Of course, the serenity can’t last.

EB is already nudging me to get my runners on so we can do the lighthouse circuit before the light fades.

Step aside Oswald… EB is a force to be reckoned with.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

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January 22, 2013

Hanging out around Sydney Harbour

By the dragonfly

We arrive in Sydney on Friday and walk out of the airport into a wall of dry heat. At 46 degrees celsius, it’s the hottest day on record. But that doesn’t stop us taking to the scorching pavements…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

I see a photo opportunity… a seagull poses in front of a giant, world-travelled rubber duck, the mascot for the Sydney Festival

It’s my real ‘new year’ and EB likes to make sure I grow old disgracefully.

This means my birthdays usually involve things like jumping out of a plane, driving a racing car, hanging doughnuts around an oil-slicked track at a defensive driving course, or whatever crazy thing EB can think of…and that I might actually agree to.

So far he hasn’t convinced me to go bungy jumping.

This year, we’re hitting the water for something a little more relaxing. So, after a scorcher on Friday, we’re up early to join our Sydney Harbour Kayaks eco-tour of Middle Harbour – and it’s 20 degrees cooler than yesterday. Of course.

Sydney Harbour is awe-inspiring, whether you’re walking around it, sitting beside it, driving over the Harbour Bridge, or taking a ferry ride. From a kayak, it takes on a whole new perspective.

We weave between moored yachts and cruisers and past affluent harbourside residences, glide past stunning sandstone formations and remnant bushland, and stop at a tiny secluded beach fringed with oyster-clad rocks.

The hours drift by too quickly and soon we’re taking on a fiesty headwind to make it back to the Spit. It’s so beautiful out on the water, even when it’s choppy, and we’d happily keep paddling all day…

Back to reality, and EB’s plan to do another section of Sydney’s stunning coastal walk is thwarted. Too much good wine and conversation with friends on Saturday night makes waking up at dawn the next day an impossibility.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Balmoral Beach

Instead we have a lazy morning walking around Darling Harbour, before meeting up with family and heading to beautiful Balmoral Beach. The cool change evolves to threatening grey and we watch the sheets of rain cross the harbour towards us.

Soon everyone is scrambling for shelter and the beach is deserted, except for a couple of teenagers and a jogger who shakes off the rain as he splashes along the pathway.

We shake the rain off too and frock-up for dinner at the iconic (and rather posh) Bather’s Pavilion.

Mais oui, there are worse ways to welcome in another year… Bungy jumping springs to mind.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

The Bather’s Pavilion at Balmoral Beach

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December 24, 2012

Paddling the Noosa River

By the dragonfly

On the day the world was ‘officially’ supposed to end, EB and I took off up the Noosa River on Australia’s Sunshine Coast for some paddling.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Past paddling days along the upper reaches of the Noosa River

There’s nothing like camping and paddling along a gorgeous river, far from the silly-season crowds, to bring back a little perspective. That was the plan, anyway.

Our intention was to camp at Harry’s Hut on Noosa River’s upper reaches, which is only accessible by 4WD or on  foot. But height became our undoing.

We’ve been here many times, but this was the first time we’d negotiated the rough track in the Douglas Albert – and with our double kayak on top. We laughed at the distinct possibility that we’d almost get there, then not be able to get under or around a thick low-hanging branch.

Try a fallen tree, propped in the fork of a tree on the opposite side of the road, just low enough to shave the roof of our motorhome (and the kayak with it).

With shallow gullies either side and dusk settling around us, we had no choice but to shrug, do a 25-point turn (okay, slight exaggeration) and head back to the more accessible Boreen Point camping area, on the edge Lake Cootharaba.

We found some privacy beside a paperbark forest, far enough from the camping hordes settled in for the long holidays.

Copyright: Louise RalphWaking to a chorus of crickets the next morning, we set off to paddle across the lake towards the lower reaches of the Noosa River – and into a haze of smoke from bushfires on both river banks.

Along the sheltered edge of the lake, a sting ray nestled on the sandy bottom, its white-spotted brown body just visible.

Flashes of silver surrounded us as fish leapt out of the water. Now if we’d been fisher-folks…

Copyright: Louise RalphThe egrets we usually see here had evacuated, but a brahminy kite circled above us and darters extended their snake-like necks from safe perches to watch us passing.

The world didn’t end, and Christmas is upon us. Time to eat, drink, be merry – and plan our next trip or three.

Oh and to see if Santa will deliver a light-weight, waterproof, smashproof camera for our paddling, hiking and cycling adventures.

Cheers reindeers, and happy travels,

Lou and EB

Copyright: Louise Ralph

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December 4, 2012

Blissed out in Byron Bay

By the dragonfly

Copyright: Louise Ralph

It’s dusk and we’re walking up to the lighthouse at Byron Bay, that magnificent most-easterly point in Australia, where the azure sea wraps around the rocky headland.

From here, you can see humpback whales on their annual migration – heading north between May and August to breed and returning south between September and November. But there aren’t any whales out here today.

Today, we’re in for a treat – something I’ve never seen in decades of walking this Cape Byron pathway.

All the way along this stretch of coastline from the Cape to Tallow Beach, pods of dolphins are surfing the waves and feeding.

One pod of about ten dolphins is fishing, shadowed by gulls that swoop to catch fish darting too close to the surface in all the chaos.

More dolphins streak in, alerted to the action by the squawking gulls. It’s an incredible sight. At least eight groups of between three and ten (or maybe more) dolphins are here.

Four dolphins are more intent on surfing at breakneck speed down the front of waves than fishing. They duck and weave, then leap out of the water in what is a moment of sheer joy. We can’t help but laugh. It’s intoxicating to watch.

EB can’t stand still forever though, so he’s off, bounding up and down the awkwardly-spaced stairs to the lighthouse and back. It reminds me of trekking in Nepal, when our travel companions said he was more mountain goat than human.

With EB, there’s no bistaari, bistaari (slowly, slowly). But what’s not to like? He makes me smile as much as those exhuberant dolphins do.

Finally, I drag myself away from the dolphin antics, and we continue along the circuit through the coastal forest.

Male brush turkeys are intent on raking leaf litter into impressive mounds, where several females may be convinced to lay single eggs, before leaving the male to deal with the whole incubation thing.

EB decides to run down the hillside (he loves stairs, that boy), while I stop to investigate a rustle in the bushes. We’ve already seen a green tree snake today, so I’m not in a hurry to poke around.

But just off the track, staring at me with enormous brown eyes, is the cutest young swamp wallaby. They’re shy creatures, so it’s the first one I’ve seen here.

The tiny wallaby bounds off, and further along the track I see an adult. It’s bigger, more solid. It lifts its head to observe EB running up to meet me, then continues feeding, unperturbed.

Dusk has always been my favourite time of the day and this evening, after last night’s liquid burnt orange moon, just confirms it.

It also serves me right for not taking my camera with me. I’ve got to get used to lugging it around. Those smart phone cameras just don’t cut it… c’est la vie.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in Australia, Travel