Australia

Great Barrier Reef (Queensland)

After 14 hours in planes and airport lounges, we finally arrived in Australia. Our first stop was Cairns (pronounces "cans" the good old Aussie way), which is located on the northern East Coast, about in the middle of the long Great Barrier reef. Cairns is the gateway city (and with 130,000 people the only larger one around) to "Far North Queensland", the very tropical part of Australia, which offers fabulous sandy beaches next to evergreen jungle.

The prevalent folks in Cairns are backpackers, so booking a superluxury hotel (which does not really exist) does not make much sense. Rather go with the crowd and choose a motel or lodge with acceptable standards. We checked into the "All Seasons" hotel right on Esplanade Drive, as the location seemed very convenient - walking distance to all the Boardwalk magazines and cafes, like Hump'n'Eat, which became our favorite dinner place. After the Bangkok experience, we were glad not to have to dress up for some glitzy resort dinner every evening. If you still want a five-star resort, go up north to Port Douglas - and stay a week in the Sherator Mirage, with a golf course and a beautiful beach right on its grounds.

To get an idea of the surrounding region, we set off for a trip with the overly advertised "SkyRail" on our first full day. This SkyRail is a 15 kilometer long cableway system across the canopy of tropical rainforest, departing just off northern "Captain Cook" highway, about 15 minutes north of Cairns. The trip takes 50 minutes one way, not including rest time for two stops under way, which leave a few minutes to explore the magic of this green jungle on elevated wooden walkways, so that also the sandal-clad will make it without twisting their feet. The second circuit lead to viewpoints of the "Barron Falls", a multitude of cascades breaking over wide sheer rocky cliffs. A writer once described the falling waters as "wild horses breaking apart in all directions, before rejoining forces at the very bottom of the gorge for a furious finish". Nowadays, technology has arrived to exploit the immense power of such natural masterpieces, and the underground water power plant built some decades ago cut the wild horses back to limping donkeys, even though we were there in the middle of the wet season. But postcard photographs still capture moments of exception when the waters are richer, probably at times when the costal regions are entirely flooded.

The cableway terminates in the once shy Aboriginee village of Kuranda, which has turned into one large tourist market since the construction was finished, transporting thousands of dollar-pocketed visitors there every month. Every single house has a shop up front, and you can easily guess that tourism is the principal source of income for 95% of Kuranda's population. Still, strolling through the shops is much nicer than in many other cities, and I even bought some Aussie manufactured safari clothing there (including a genuine Kangaroo leather hat, completing my "Crocodile Dundee" looks), which I would not find any better (nor cheaper) anywhere else in the region afterwards.

After returning to the parking lot, we spent the rest of the day cruising through the "Tablelands" around the city of Atherton, with curvy narrow roads through the rainforest we had before seen from above. Those curves must be heaven for bike riders, or for ambitioned sportscar drivers (like me) with the correct vehicle (unlike me - the stability of our Toyota Rav4 was not up to my standards). On the other hand, the Toyo did allow us to choose an 8 km dirt path leading to some other waterfalls, but after we had soaked the car in mud and dust for 6 kilometers, we saw us finally stranded at a sign "1.9 km walk to falls". Which we did not undertake, given the doubtful importance of those falls (not being mentioned in any guide). Back on proper terrain, we made our way home via the "Curtain Fig Tree", a truly exceptional play of Mother Nature, where one large tree populated by air-root growing epiphytes fell into another tree, creating a huge "curtain" of vertical roots along its 45-degree ascending slowly rotting host.

Diving The Reef was on the agenda next morning, with the large catamaran cruiser who should take us to outer seas leaving at a modest 10:30. (This was one of the reasons why we had chosen "Great Adventures", most other vessels leave already between 7:30 and 8:30). Unfortunately, the weather was rather rainy when we left, leaving the ocean in somewhat shaky, or - as the captain put it - "unfavorable" conditions. Which would disturb many passengers on the 2-hour ride, especially Japanese who, in deep respect of their group loyalty, almost entirely made good use of their nausea bags. After seeing some fellow caucasians turn yellow at the same time, the explanation was evident: Whereas caucasians turned yellow first before hitting the worst of stages, Japanese were by default already yellow, i.e. in that second-stage condition, so it took seasickness less to get them fully hooked.

When we finally arrived at our docking pontoon on Moore Reef, most of the scuba divers in my group had to recover from the mentioned inconveniences first, so our first dive started late and lasted only just over half an hour. I could not have made much more anyhow, as my bottle leaked at the back, propelling my oxygen demand to unknown heights. In general, the equipment was not in the shape one would have expected, "Great Adventures" being one the most expensive dive boat operators.

The Great Barrier coral was very nice, glittering in all shades from red to blue, even without sunlight from above, and also the variety of tropical fish was stunning. Our guide fed a chest-large humphead wrasse (name derived from... the hump on his head) with delicious shrimp (although all brochures had educated us not to feed any fish), so that he became so tame that we could even hug him under water. And the second dive featured eagle rays, morrays, and firefish. But still overall, I had an even better memory of diving in the Red Sea - although it could well be attributable to more favorable weather conditions or the more professional dive team. Locals also told me that there are better spots to go to, but to reach those, you would have to book multi-day expeditions (e.g. from "Tusa Diving", who also offer smaller teams and newer equipment. I should have known before).

The last piece missing on the puzzle "Far North Queenslans In A Nutshell" was a cape trip to Cape Trib ("Cape Tribulation", about 3 hours driving north of Cairns). The daytrip should lead us into the very heart of the tropical rainforest, so tropical rainshowers, as they were visible in the direction we were heading, were part of the game. Somehow rain makes the rainforest even more intriguing - when everything from a cloudy sky to a sturdy sea reflects the brilliant green of the vegetation. This was especially valid for a short 1.5-hour hike on the way, through the spectacular Daintree Rainforest Reserve near Mossman Gorge (with large specimen trees, whitewater-shaken rivers, rotten magnum trunks, and labyrinthic creeks). The sound of raindrops cascading from the leaves around adds to the magic of the moment and the appeal of the atmosphere. The walkway on this ciruit was ideally designed, leading only a small trail through magnificient nature, unlike the all-wooden elevated walkways constructed elsewhere.

Going further north, crossing crocodile-inhabited Daintree River by small car ferry, the road became ever more deserted, narrowing at last to an unpaved path, crossing through knee-deep creeks every now and then. Every local would tell you that it gets "much worse" only after Cape Tribulation, so we hadn't really seen the "good stuff" for off-road enthusiasts. It was still enough to be thankful to have hired a 4x4 and contributing to the feeling of participating in the Camel Trophy. In spite of all the recent tourist facilities, Cape Tribulation makes you still feel being at the end of the world, at the point where Far North Queensland's motto lives up to its remote grandeur: "Where Rainforest Meets The Reef.". The penetrating green of the unpenetrable vegetation reaches out until the sandy edge of the coral seas' turquoise waters. And with the low-hanging clouds veiling all layers of nature into an equalling mist, those two contrasting regions finally unite.

The inspiring interaction cannot be properly banned on photographic paper, though. I tried several times, but soon had to admit that the fascinating green wonderland lost its splendor as soon as the aspect was reduced to the format of the viewfinder, aggravating the loss of brilliance by not reproducing the reflexes of the rain adequately. For postcard pictur es, it's definitely better to come again during the dry season (April - October). For the ultimate Far North Experience, it's defintely not.

Next morning, we had to learn that unfortunately our flight to Ayers Rock had been cancelled, and the next flight did not leave before late afternoon. Fortunately however, the weather was excellent (which is an exception for the season - the first sunny skies we had seen down here), so we decided to spend some hours taking pictures of the picturesque coastline just north of Cairns. The blinking emerald coastal waters let me once again recall the praising words of a friend who had been on a sailboat tour all the way up from Sydney through the Reef's shattered islands. I'll have to do that one time.

Our way led us past a crocodile farm, which was just about to feature a live feeding show, so we entered and listened to some real Aussie croc bloke stepping into the cage with a malicious "saltie" (a carnivorous and agressive saltwater crocodile, as opposed to a "freshie"), and feeding him chicken by the whole (feathered, of course). Which the mean beast snatched and gulped with one large "clonk" of his enourmous jaws. The sound of a snapping crocodile is particularly interesting, being as if a superhuman giant smashed to flat marble sinks onto each other; the force of the movement can thus easily be derived by the frightened spectator. Additionally, the outward-wound well-visible teeth in connection with the small sliced eyes create a somewhat fierce look, especially if the leathery hulk keeps his jaws yawningly wide open for minutes.

Despite these rather intimidating impressions we were assured that deaths caused by crocodiles in Australia were rare - only two people have been killed in the last decade. One was a tourist that stabbed a saltie sleeping on a public beach with his foot - assuming it was dead. It wasn't. Poor chap - he should have been nominated for the annual Darwin Awards.

The Red Center (Northern Territory)

We had arrived in the Red Center of Australia - where the soil is red and dusty, and the horizon endless and distant. We were in Ayers Rock Resort (= Yulara), an artificial enclave built into the hostile desert near world-famous Ayers Rock (= Uluru), consisting only of a handful hotels, a camp site, and a very limited shopping arcade (comprising also an "icecreamery"). Even Alice Springs, the closest town to this middle of nowhere, is over 400 kilometers away. So unless you want to waste one day-trip each time you go back to your hotel, you'll have to accept hefty uplifts on every item and service offered here. Plus, given the limited supply and the distance to any alternative, it is wise to book hotels and rental cars (defintely the best way to Ayers Rock around the clock independently) in advance. Which we of course didn't, and therefore had to wait for a car to become available until almost noon, which exposed us to the full 40 degrees of daytime heat during our first ventures.

The best hotel here is "Sails In The Desert", which features luxurious rooms, but its Kuniya restaurant does not serve the quality you would expect its the price tags, although you can taste Australian bush dishes with kangaroo and crocodile meat. The breakfast buffet selection however is excellent, making you forget that you are so far away from the rest of the civilized world.

You do not have to stay longer than 1-2 days to explore the two sights in the immediate neighborhood. Directly adjacent - expressed in Northern Territory distances, still 55 km apart - to Ayers Rock are the red mountains of Las Olgas (= Kata Tjuta), which are far less known, but similarly breathtaking; both sights have been placed under the protection of one large National Park, whose entrance station is just outside of Yulara.

Even from the resort, you can already discern a bulk of solid red rock in the distance, lying there almost accidentally in its entirely flat surrounding stretch of borderless plain, like a wrinkled sea cucumber on a sandy ocean bottom. The closer you get, the more impressive its view becomes; until at last the road leads straight towards this towering colossus of red-colored stone, yawning at the timid visitor like a monstrous whale, ready to bury every tiny intruder under an infinite mass of heavy matter. Nobody can deny to be utterly impressed by this most bizarre rock formation on the entire planet.

In fellow American manner, sunset and sunrise viewpoints are clearly marked, which are deserted during daytime, but fill up with hundreds of camera-clicking tourists once the sun begins to flirt with the horizon, painting the already red skins of the rocky monster into even more colorful shades of yellow and red.

Whereas Ayers Rock is just one massive piece, Las Olgas on the other side of the park is a formation of multiple humungous stones, sitting in the landscape like gigantic marshmallows melted in the relentless baking oven of the desert sun. Hiking around in the sunshine for just a few hours the temperatures in the valleys will give you an idea why those pierres brûlés look as they do nowadays, having tried in vain to resist the unconditional heat of the region for millions of years. Humans do bake faster, as we did found out ourselves when exploring the magic of the scenery on foot.

As walking outside of marked pathways is not permitted, a handful of hiking trails have been created close to the sheer walls of those rocks, which let you get up close and personal to the red cucumber or the purple marshmallows. Those trails have been set up very thoughtfully, some being even accessible by wheelchair, but nonetheless leading the amazed spectator through incredible stone compositions and barren landscapes alternating with green oasis-like pond-and-tree arrangements. Most trails are shorter walks (up to 1.5 hrs return), only the 7.5 km circuit of the "Valley of the Winds" at Las Olgas demands more of a hiking approach, leading over rocky pathways across the valleys - but is therefore also more rewarding. It is not advisable to try this mountainous trip outside of very early morning hours - the heat will become unbearable -, which is why park rangers close the second half of the tour at 11 am on days hotter than 36 degrees (as all of the days during our stay were). For all walks a fly net hat is strongly recommended, as myriads of bush flies will drive you crazy otherwise. Unless you become a true Aboriginee first, who have over the centuries obviously managed to achieve indifference about plaguing flies around their faces.

Sydney

The only "Leading Hotel Of The World" in Sydney being the "Observatory", we did not hesitate to choose this prestigious old-style residence as our base camp. Indeed, the rooms furnishings are among the best I have ever seen in a hotel, all-wood antique cabinets and marble bathrooms, including all the gadgets you can imagine (like heated towel holders, inside-illuminated cabinets, etc.). Just the view, looking out to the wrong side of the river (featuring busy loading docks instead of the famous Harbour Bridge), cannot compete with its fellow concrete moldings a la Hyatt. But the concierge and spa services were excellent and very personalized, so we made abundant use of them for booking activities and flights. No wonder it received an entire shelf of trophies, besides the "Leading Hotels" listing also the "Small Luxury Hotels" and "Five Diamonds" awards.

We covered the main tourist attractions in consistently speedy manner on the first day: After a stroll through "The Rocks", the oldest part of the city (where by chance our hotel was located), we reached Circular Quay, the central departure point for all ferries crossing the harbor. After a scenic ferry ride underneath the Harbour Bridge (framing the Opera House) we spent an hour in Sydney's newly reopened Aquarium. As it was the time of the summer holidays, hordes of children conquered most of the space in front of the thick glass walls, expressing their awe for the surrounding species (e.g. sharks) in genuine Australian register ("Mo'omie, loook at theht awfool fiish on the othe' soide!"). We took the ferry back to Circular Quay and walked through the beautiful Botanical Gardens to Mrs. Macquarie's Chair, the inevitable Sydney viewpoint from which all default photographs are taken - showing the Opera House with its fully blown white sails adjacent to the Harbour Bridge in the background. Only by then we realized that the cloudy weather of the morning hours had entirely been wiped off by New South Wales' summer's first heat wave, thrusting the mild temperatures of yesterday (21 C) to a relentless 35 C of unhindered ultraviolet rays. Not anticipating this rapid change, we had not taken any sunscreen along, which proved fatal given the desolate shape of the ozone layer - obviously Dr Evil's giant laser has pierced it quite effectively in this region.

After soothing our sunburn with some milkshakes in a quaint cafe right across the street of the Sydney Art Gallery, we headed on to 350m-high Center Point Tower with its spectacular $10 panoramas of the city, and last but not least visited the Queen Victoria Building, "world's finest shopping center", located in a richly ornamented turn-of-the-century building, creating a shopping and sightseeing experience of its own kind.

After this all-encompassing program of the first day, we dedicated the second one to exploring the shopping options for outdoor equipment and other clothing, interrupted only by a short trip on the touristy, slow, and non-air-conditioned Monorail as well as a speed cat ferry ride to Manly (every guide praises it as the best ride on the harbor, but in my view it's just the longest - the Manly Beach it leads to has nothing intriguing, just an ordinary arrangement of beach cafes and gift shops, which made us spend our waiting time for the return ship in a standard coffee place.

The third day was dedicated to exploring the Sydney hinterland, namely the Blue Mountain ridge, which manifested the natural border separating the early settlers' coastal colonies from the long unexplored outback. Today, those days are long by - numerous tourist coaches take colonies of visitors every day over broadly paved highways built to reach every single place of interest directly on wheels. Thus even on normal summer weekdays the lookouts on famous Cliff Drive are so overpopulated that on some spots there is a serious human traffic jam. The situation for getting in and out for a exhilarating 3-minute slide on "world's steepest railway", descending through a natural tunnel of giant rocks, cannot be any worse at a random subway station in downtown Tokyo. At least the "Three Sister Lookout", presenting a magnificent view of this bizarre threesome rock formation, delighted us again with a most local taste, when an Australian father advised his son in detail how to take a picture of the sight ("Sta'n' over hee an' make sho'e you have it all in theht little sque'e"). Following the suggested route via some other well-accessible lookouts by car, we concluded our challenging motor hike (why walk if you can drive it all?) via a different return road (past the township of Bell), which was less crowded with tour buses, enabling us to savor the enticing landscape (with some roadside strawberries) much more.

To get the real impression of the Sydney Opera House, we certainly had to judge the acoustics from the inside - so we reserved seats for the "Fledermaus" by Johann Strauss II. It was an excellent performance, including some interesting contemporary add-ons (dancers and comedians), although it had been translated into English (the audience able to follow German language down under would probably not have been numerous enough to make a living for the actors).