Rhod and Anna's World Adventure

Last time I dressed in a rubber suit it was a roaring success (surfing). It's been a few weeks since that event and now it was time for another go.

Despite my surname, crawling around through tight spaces underground in the dark is not really in my comfort zone. It bothers me more than jumping out of a plane or throwing myself head first in to a canyon. But what would life be like if you only took part in things that you were comfortable doing? Dull! So we signed ourselves up for some blackwater tubing. Or as the company we went with call it "Tumu Tumu Toobing!"

When we arrived in Waitomo Caves we found a township built solely around their tourist attraction, the gloworm caves. There are a number of trips you can do, from just taking a leisurely stroll into the most picturesque caves to abseiling 100 metres down into them. We opted for the 7/10 'Rambo rating' 4 hour tubing adventure. The lady on the phone had assured me that we would be walking around upright most of the time, floating serenely on rubber tubes and only having to lower our heads slightly in some parts. Hmm. I think she was either talking about another tour or she just wanted our money.

Usually tours consist of a mix of nationalities and are a great way to meet people. When we were introduced to our guide Neil he told us that we were the only people on the trip! Anyhow, we drove through the middle of what looked like the Scottish Highlands and pulled into a hangar in the middle of privately-owned farmland. It was from this point on that all self-respect went out the window and the rubber suits came on! First up was what can only be described as lederhosen-style wetsuit dungarees. Mine were so tight that I had to be winched into them laughing hysterically which didn't aid proceedings. Thankfully photos aren't taken at this point! Then you don some wetsuit socks/booties, a jacket, white wellies and the all-important miner's helmet complete with light. Looking good! Ready to go, we set off through the field and after some uncomfortable waddling we hit the first hurdle...a ladder dropping 10 metres into the cave through a child-sized gap. This set the tone for the whole trip.

We walked, crawled, scrambled, squeezed, swam, slid and tubed our way through about 1km of cave over the next 2 hours. The water in New Zealand at this time of year? Absolutely freezing! It was a fantastic trip though. You didn't have to crawl through all of the tight spaces but we did (apart from one section for me as it was just too small for someone with my cross section.) I'm very proud of the fact that I squeezed sideways through this particularly uneven tunnel even if I did nearly scrape three layers of skin off my face in the process.

We also went down a 10 metre tunnel on our hands and knees with our lights swiched off. In actual fact I think it's better if you can't see how enclosed it is. When I lifted my head a fraction I knew just how enclosed it was. The whole journey was broken up by a refreshment break/underground picnic of chocolate and a hot lemon drink. The hot drink was much needed after the swimming.

One of the worst parts for me was jumping backwards off a 2 metre high ledge with my rubber ring cemented to my backside and landing unceremoniously in the freezing water. It took some convincing from Rhod and Neil and when the dreaded countdown began I knew I had no choice but to jump. Let's just say that screams echo in a cave! After the intial shock of hitting the freezing water we drifted along in our tubes on our backs with our lights off to admire the thousands of gloworms occupying the cave walls. Quite magical.

We emerged from the cage in to the dusk and made our way back to the shed to get out of the rubber and take a very welcome hot shower. We drove back to the office and picked up our free CD of photos from the trip. We did more than we expected of ourselves before we left. It's probably best that the lady on the phone didn' t tell us what it was like beforehand.

http://www.waitomo.co.nz/

And today the one more thing to do in New Zealand got completed! Mother you need no longer worry. I've landed and all of my bones are intact!

I've bungy jumped, paraglided, canyon swung and now for the big one. I threw myself out of a plane and I loved every minute of it.

It's a fantastic day here in Taupo. The sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the clear blue sky. It's a bit cold but that is a common feature of winter so I can cope with that. It is on the whole a pretty good day to Tandem skydive.

We get picked up from the hostel in a limo and we drive off towards the airport, Anna has come as a spectator for this event. When we arrive we are greeted by a slightly crazy Welshman from Llantrisant. I obviously feel immediately comfortable in his presence and a lot less worried about the whole event. We watched the introduction and then it was decision time. What height do you want to jump from? The answer was easy. If I only do this once I want to go from as high as possible so 15,000ft it was. Or for those who would like it converted, about 3 miles up!

Decision made, I am dressed in a boiler suit and harness and all too quickly it becomes time to hop on the plane. Me and my Tandem skydive leader, Roy, are in the plane first as we are out last. The other 2 jumpers have opted to leave the plane at 12,000ft. We take off and take about 15 mins to get up to the first jump height. The door is opened and I watch my companions drop from the plane like stones. The door gets closed, the oxygen masks go on(!) and we spend another 5 mins climing to 15,000ft. Soon the door is open and it's time to go.

We are out of the plane in a flash and tumbling towards the earth. With me and a tall instructor it doesn't take long for us to hit terminal velocity of 200kph or 124mph! It was cold on the ground. At 200K's and 3 miles up it is absolutely freezing but the view is fantastic. I can see both the East and West coast of New Zealand, the volcanoes and all of Lake Taupo (New Zealand's largest lake.) We freefall for a minute and then the parachute is open and we slow down dramatically. I'm not only relieved that the chute is open but it's also nice to be able to breathe easily once again. (Me too!!)

From here we cruise slowly to earth and with me waving to Anna we come in to land and slide along the grass on our bums for a while.

It was by far the most extreme and best thing I have done. I would most certainly do it again but I need some time for my ears to recover. I still can't hear properly and I landed 2 and a half hours ago!

For everyone's future joy the whole cheek flapping, face-pulling, dribbling experience has been captured on DVD to a sound track of Top Gun, Good Charlotte and U2. I bet you can't wait to see it!

http://www.skydivetaupo.co.nz

The answer is it should give you a warm feeling because quite surprisingly to us, it's a blanket! It's certainly not the style I would normally choose but when you stay in hostels you don't get a lot of choice over the bedding.

Last night we stayed in 'The Barnacle Seaside Inn' in Paraparaumu. Barnacles as we all know like to attach themselves to large objects such as rocks, boats and major corporations and cling on for the rest of their life. The Seaside Inn did not let us down on this front as it had it's own freaky selection of permanent residents including one who looked like the fat curly haired guy out of Lost!

Luckily we didn't notice the pattern on the blanket until the morning when we were leaving. I can't imagine it would have been a restful night's sleep knowing you were covered by a Rotteweiller (I'm not sure if that is spelt correctly)

Oh please, stop the sniggering! You're just being smutty. It's true though, we have seen Frodo's ring but we weren't allowed to touch it. Let me explain...

We left the South Island on Monday and took the 3 hour ferry across the Cook Strait to Wellington. A friend of ours had recommended that when we were there we go to see the Lord of the Rings exhibition at the Te Papa museum. I was slightly sceptical as I have neither read the books nor seen the films but having spent the last 3 weeks in the country where Lord of the Rings was filmed I was intrigued.

It felt a bit weird at first, like we were entering a cult meeting. I felt a fraud reading all the information like I knew what was going on! It was amazing though and we ended up spending about 3 hours in there. We got to see costumes worn in the film, artwork from the original books, maquettes of creatures and small scale models of various sets. There were numerous video clips of interviews with the stars and director as well where we learnt that some guy had to endure 11 hours of make up before shooting and the two guys responsible for linking the millions of chainmail now have worn the fingerprints off their fingers! The highlight however was the room containing THE ring. All slightly strange. It is suspended in a perspex cylindrical tube and is essentially just a gold band with very little detail. All very cool though.

I found out that this exhibition has been seen by over 1 million people and has travelled around the world. I can see why. I must make an effort to see the films now. Rhod is currently halfway through the first book but only because it was the cheapest book in the shop - the whole trilogy for 3 quid! He now calls himself a literary genius.

I'm sure you all know how to find Wales. Head West out of London down the M4. Pass the towns of Reading, Swindon, Bath and Bristol. Pay the toll and you are there. Easy I'm sure you will agree.

Today we went hunting for whales. Not so easy to find as there is no motorway in the Ocean and also no signs.

We are in Kaikoura on the East Coast of the South Island of New Zealand and this is the place to see whales. Unfortunately for the financially challenged it is not as easy as standing on the beach and looking. You need to pay money and go either on a boat or in a plane. We don't have the money for the plane so we elected to go by boat, but we were wise enough to invest in a packet of sea-legs tablets just in case.

As the boat set off at a slow cruise on the calm waters by the marina we were laughing at the fact that we had been so paranoid about getting seasick. Our smiles turned to mild panic however as the boat revved its engine and set off at a blistering pace. The graphics on the big screen inside the boat showed how far we were from land, the bearing at which we were travelling and the depth of water below us. To help with this last fact, the guide measured this against the Auckland Sky tower which is 328 metres high. When the depth was shown to be the equivalent of 4 sky towers we started to panic. The swell of the waves when we first stopped to look for whales was about 2 metres high. Bring on the chundering! Not from us luckily, but from about 8 members of the party.

In order to locate the whales the captain would stop the boat, don a pair of headphones and dip what appeared to be a lashed up micropone on a stick in to the Ocean. This was a sonar microphone that can pick-up the song of the whales. I'm sure you all know what the song of a whale sounds like. People wearing tie-dye can often be found listening to it whilst meditating.

Success! There was a whale in the area and we just had to keep our eyes open and look for the blow of the water. Apparently sperm whales grow up to 20 metres long and their blowholes are big enough for you to put your head into (should you feel the need!) Our first whale was Little Nick. When he surfaced the atmosphere on the boat changed. We were given a break from the chundering and everyone was just silent. It was incredible. The photos don't do these creatures justice. They are huge and you can't help but just stare. They float on top for about 5 minutes before preparing to dive back down under water (which is when you see their tails) and they stay down there for about 30-40 minutes.

So off we went in search of our next one. This proved a little harder to find. Lots of boat stops and more comedy microphone moments from the captain. She could hear clicking which meant that they were underwater but not coming up just yet. We persevered and the waiting paid off. Noodle appeared and was kind enough to do his diving and tail trick against the backdrop of the mountains affording us all postcard-quality photos. And yes, Rhod really did take this picture.

We returned back to the marina via a wandering albatross and another colony of fur seals. It was a pleasure to finally reach dry land. We were content with our morning of whale fun but by the end the boat had started to smell of vomit.

http://www.whalewatch.co.nz/

I trust you are keeping up to speed with our blog so no doubt you've noticed that this is our 50th blog. "Happy Birthday to us...." We are yet to recieve any greetings, congratulations, gifts (of the financial sort) etc. There must be a delay in the email system but we look forward to the backlog of those. If anyone wants to sponsor any extreme events I will happily do them and write about the experience for you all to enjoy. I know it's a selfless act but I'm prepared to do it for the good of you all. Just email me and I will send the bank details back! Mum, I won't accept any sponsorship that involves me staying in the hostel out of harm's way!

Anyway, Day 11 of our road trip has brought us to Franz Josef, a township created around the glacier of the same name. This glacier is one of only 7 'warm' glaciers of the world, in other words, one that descends into a temperate rainforest only 250m above sea level. Most other glaciers melt at an altitude of 2000m making them pretty difficult to access. Franz Josef is the world's steepest and fastest flowing commercially guided glacier so with such extreme statistics appealing to our new extreme backpacker lifestyle, we sought a piece of the action.

Our first stop was the centre where we were kitted out in waterproof trousers, highly uncomfortable boots, thermal socks, hats, mittens!! (for those unfortunate enough not to have brought gloves, ie Rhod), waterproof jackets and the all-important ice talons. All Rhod needed was the piece of string to attach the mittens together and he could have looped it through his coat reminiscent of a 5 year old school boy!

Gear on, we headed off to the glacier. Well, I say that, it actually took about an hour to get to the foot of the glacier from the car park. Very frustrating as it looks like it's about 5 minutes away. This we were told is an optical illusion created by the great height of the ice and the narrow steep valley. Gutted. Boots were starting to blister already - so pleased we'd brought the plasters with us. Oh hang on, we've forgotten them. Great, only another 5 hours of walking left to do before we get back to the hostel.

Once on the glacier we had to split into 2 groups, the more confident ones going with Troy and the less confident ones going with Tim. Being the modest, shy and retiring types we opted to go with...Troy. Bring on the ice! We found ourselves clambering up metre high steps which Troy had to cut out of the ice using an ice axe. He was particularly proud of the scar on his head resulting from a rebounding axe and he amused/scared us with stories of him being hospitalised 3 times due to 'errors of judgement.' We twice had to squeeze through dripping wet crevasses only just wide enough to fit through and then descend 5 metre drops the other side with only a piece of slippery wet rope to aid us.

We emerged from the whole event unscathed, barring a few blisters and some sore ankles. In all we spent about 4 hours on the ice climbing up to explore the first ice fall. It was a great trip and one that we would recommend to anyone heading to New Zealand (bring your own plasters.) After such an arduous work out we will now be taking it easy for the next few days attempting to watch some whales from a boat and just driving around in the battered old Hyundai. We don't want to over do it. Unless of course that sponsorship comes in....

http://www.franzjosefglacier.com/

Sometimes things can get a little stale. It's important to keep things fresh and occasionally, if required, spice them up a little bit. We've been travelling for 3 months and we thought it was about time for a little spice.

I suggested to Anna that perhaps we should indulge in a bit of swinging. She wasn't as keen as me but luckily there is the option to swing alone and take a friend as a spectator. They do, of course, have the option to join in at anytime if they like the look of what is going on and want a piece of the action.

So with a bus load of people, a very friendly group of American students, and a bowl for the keys we are off to Skippers Canyon to put the GEERRR! in to Swinger!

Let me quote from the brochure "Either jump or be released from our purpose built, cliff mounted platform 109m/360ft above the spectacular Shotover River. You'll have a pure freefall of 60m/200ft before the swing lines take up the tension and carry you in to a massive arc of 200m at 150kph"

That's right I've paid good money to hurl myself in to a canyon attached to some string. It was so good I even paid for a second go. The first picture is of my first jump/fall. It was a backwards jump in a John Travolta style (hence the arm). For this I just had to lean backwards from the platform and let gravity do its bit. All on my own terms. The second picture is my second jump known as 'Gimp boy goes to Hollywood.' For this I was suspended upside down over the canyon and released by the jumpmaster whenever he felt inclined. He counted me down from five but let me go somewhere near 3 and a half which I was kind of expecting but it still came as a shock.
Last time I was in Queenstown I did some bungy jumps. The canyon swing didn't exist back then. In my opinion this is better than a bungy.

I have to say it was a great pleasure to swing with the friendly American students. Just the fact that you can find so many Americans with a passport is amazing to me! Bravest of the day award has to go to one of the American girls who was thrifty enough to swing topless in order to get it half price. Particularly brave considering the temperature in Queenstown at this time of year. Apparently she won't be showing the pictures to her mum. Probably best!

There's probably only one thing left for me to do in New Zealand now........

http://www.canyonswing.co.nz if anyone wants more information.

What the hell is going on? I'm walking off the side of a mountain. Now I'm running. I've handed over money to a man who is telling me to do this and I'm obeying him. I'm getting closer to the edge... and I'm off!

Let me take you back in time 20 minutes. Rhod and I have just climbed up to the top of the 760m hill overlooking Queenstown having shunned the leisurely 5 minute cable car option deeming it only for the weak. It has taken us 1 hour 20 minutes of solid uphill walking and we are shattered and are now wishing we had taken the cable car. However, the view over Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkables at sunset is totally rewarding. Being luxury backpackers we decide to treat ourselves to a cake and so we take a well-earned rest in the cafe.

We have just tucked into our cakes when we see a man approaching mentioning something about a 'special offer.' Our ears prick up at the thought of a bargain but as he comes nearer something that would make any thrill-seeker ecstatic only makes my heart sink. He is offering us a chance to paraglide over the most beautiful town in New Zealand at sunset for half the normal price with photos and video included, all in all for around 35 pounds! Queenstown is a backpackers' pilgrimage. It is the very epicentre for adventure sports in New Zealand, if not the world. In one day it is possible to sky-dive, bungy jump, whitewater raft and paraglide, should you have the inclination and the money.

"Eat up, you need to come now if you're going to do it!" he says encouragingly. Before I knew what was doing I was handing over the cash for Rhod and I. (We don't recall signing a disclaimer though. Hmm.) It was one of those chance-of-a-lifetime opportunities that I knew I had to take even though I could think of nothing I'd rather do less at that moment!

My heart was already pumping but to make it worse we had to catch a chairlift (frightening enough) and then hike another 10 minutes uphill to get to the very top of the mountain. I couldn't believe I was about to do this but my feet were just leading me. My instructor was Jimmy who was used to wimps like me and was very reassuring, though when someone tells you that you are going to have to start running towards the edge of the mountain and not stop it is hard to feel in any way reassured.

So I did it. I ran off the edge of the mountain. Yes, I screamed. It was quite a lurch on take off and then you quickly have to get used to the fact that you are suspended at a ridiculous height over the town. As we glided gracefully over the tops of the trees and the lake I almost convinced myself that I was enjoying it. That feeling was short-lived and when Jimmy uttered the words "You're going to hate me now Anna!" I knew I was in for a shock. In order to get the parachute down to land you have to perform a number of turns and spins at fast pace. Let's just say that Rhod who had already landed heard me coming! There was no grace to my descent. I simply closed my eyes and screamed until no sound came out! Rhod's instructor found this so amusing that he decided to film the event from where he stood. Ha ha.

Well I have lived to tell the tale and I definitely don't regret it. It was an amazing experience but maybe one that wont be repeated for a long while. The residents of Queenstown need some peace and quiet.

http://www.paraglide.net.nz/

Milford Sound in the Fiordland National Park in the South Island is a huge tourist attraction. People come to admire the thundering waterfalls, the towering Mitre Peak and the lush green mountains reflecting in the still blue waters of the sound. The best way to do this is to take one of the many boat cruises on offer.

Astonishingly Milford Sound recieves 7-8 metres of rainfall a year, leaving most tourists at the end of their 2 hour cruise cold, drenched, unable to see Mitre Peak and with a camera full of grey cloudy pictures. We were no exception to this rule.

Whilst waiting to board I indulged in a favourite pastime of mine...people-watching:

First up, 2 couples in their 60s - the wives had immaculately coiffed highlighted hair (soon to be ruined), jeans (I wasn't aware they were waterproof) and stiletto leather boots (non-existent grip failed them immediately as they slipped on the wet gangway.) Their husbands didn't appear to appreciate their efforts though.

Next up, 30-something guy, London socialite, black duffle coat with upturned collar, wooly scarf, bum bag, jeans (again, I must check their waterproof qualities) and flip flops. To coin a phrase used by most of my family...'Prat'!

Anyway, we boarded the ship already soaked having run (straight after lunch on full stomachs) from the car park to the wharf. Determined not to let the weather spoil the day, we took our positions on the top of the boat, whilst the aforementioned people began to make use of the free tea and coffee and took their places inside. Boring! We had chosen a smaller boat because it could get closer to things...namely waterfalls! The torrential rain had only served to accentuate the spray coming off them and we felt it face-on! We were also able to pull in close to a colony of seals basking on a rock who didn't seem bothered that a boat full of tourists were gawping at them from the side of the boat pointing cameras in their direction.

The highlight however had to be the visitors alongside the boat...several schools of bottlenose dolphins riding playfully on the wave of our boat just metres from us. It was magical and we actually have some photographic evidence this time, be they a little blurred!

Now I hate to quote the 'cool gang' from our Melbourne to Sydney tour who we brutally slated but to experience Milford Sound you really have to get wet, get out on deck and "get amongst it!"

http://www.mitrepeak.com/

Day 4 of Anna and Rhodri's road trip.
Vehicle of choice: 5 year old metallic beige Hyundai Accent
Total kms driven: 967
Total number of sheep beeped at: 183,000 approx
Roadkill: 1 small bird at 100km/hr
Route: Oamaru to Waikawa (The Catlins)


We were the coolest people in the Waikawa holiday lodge.

This wasn't hard as were made up 66.6666% of the residents of the Waikawa lodge and judging by the action in the street outside, for one night we made up probably 50% of the residents of the village.

We were in the Catlins which for those tracking our progress enthusastically with a map/globe is in the south east corner of the the south island of New Zealand. Our selected destination for the night was the 'cosy' and 'homely' Waikawa Holiday Lodge. Odd with a capital O.

We paid for our accomodation at the cafe 4kms up the road and were sent off in the direction of the lodge and told we were in room 1. There is apparently no need for keys around here.

When we arrived the place was in darkness and freezing cold. We found the open door and made ourselves at home. Problem; it's quite hard to make yourself feel at home in a room where the lights don't work. So we set about lighting the fire and turning all the heaters on and waited for the owner to come and sort the lights. He arrived and brought with him our housemate (in room 2, funnily enough.) After initial suspicions of this guy being a mass murderer, he actually turned out to be very friendly. The evening passed murder-free and we even managed to complete a penguin jigsaw with one piece missing.

Overall the experience was good. It was fun to stay somewhere that seemed so remote. I'm sure we will repeat it again but perhaps not in a rush.

'The walk along the Hooker Valley offers stunning views of the towering Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest peak at 3754m and ends at the Hooker Lake where you have the chance to see icebergs floating in the glacial water.'

Sounds good doesn't it? That's what we thought so we set off.

A week before this event we were on Manly Beach in Sydney. The sun was shining and I was having a surfing lesson. As we set off we couldn't see the top of Mt Cook but I confidently predicted that it would clear and by the time we got to the lake we would have a perfect view and some photographs to make you all jealous.

I could give Michael Fish and his hurricane forecasting a run for his money. 30 mins into the 3 hour walk it started to rain. Not "that fine rain that soaks you right through" but that horizontal rain that hurts when it hits you in the face! Fortunately the pain of the rain didn't last long as it quickly turned to snow which is colder but a lot less painful when it hits you.

Like a true brit I was expecting the snow to be a brief shower of perhaps 3/4 of an inch. I expected it to cause havoc on the road and rail system and then melt instantly leaving hundreds of people stranded. Wrong again! That's twice in a day! Very unlike me! By the time we reached the halfway point (the lake) the snow was well and truly settling...on us!. The view of Mt Cook was non-existent. (The only time we saw it was when we left the next day and looked back from 30kms away!) and the icebergs, although very spectacular are not that easy to appreciate when you are freezing cold, soaking wet and have over an hour of walking through the snow still to come.

We raced back to the car and luckily for us there was no road chaos which afforded an ideal opportunity for hire car handbrake turns around the sleepy town of Mount Cook! The afternoon was spent with our feet up in front of the log fire in the hostel telling tales of battling through 6 foot snow drifts.

7 people on horse back, dressed in armour, charging around whipping the crowd in to a frenzy.

Is it the horse of the year show? No. It's super 14 rugby in New Zealand!

Luckily we found our way to the correct gate in the stadium because in a country where a 'Nit' is used to catch fish, and 'Tin' is the number between 9 and 11, I wasn't sure if anyone would even have heard of gate E let alone know how to get there.

In the last few weeks we have made a habit of watching the bottom of the league team in their home fixtures. No more of that rubbish for us. We went to see The Canterbury Crusaders, top of the table and containing All Black Stars and last year's Lion Tamers Dan Carter and Richie McCaw. They were playing the ACT Brumbies (4th in the table) who would have fielded a number of Australian internationals had they all either learnt to tackle correctly or been made of more sturdy stuff.

The build up to the game contains what I imagine to be a unique event in the various forms of footballing around the world. 7 people on horse back dressed as crusaders complete with shields and swords charging around the field to get the crowd excited. Grass ruined. Crowd ecstatic. Unfortunately due to the weather the usual procession of Harley Davidson Motorcycles was cancelled. I understand this as I believe it is impossible to ride a Harley on dry tarmac so it certainly should not be attempted on wet grass.

The game was fantastic ending Crusaders 33 ACT Brumbies 3. All the tries we scored in the second half at our end of the field (we were behind the post) and we had a particularly good view as we were in the second row of seats! It may have been freezing cold but it was the best sport we've seen so far this holiday. My footy ranking remains as before but a few more events like that and rugby union may well be pushing proper football in to second place!

We are now life long Crusaders fans. People may think this is glory hunting but I say No! I've supported them for nearly one week now!

Crusaders!...Crusaders!...Crusaders!

What kind of fool comes to Sydney this summer and doesn't visit the Kylie exhibition at the Powerhouse Museum? Today I decided to go and see what all the locomotion was about. Rather than take someone I'd just met, my equally Kylie-obsessed friend Amy came with me: better the devil you know and all that. It's never too late to go (actually it is if you go after the final day of the exhibition which was in fact today.) Had I missed it there would have been tears on my pillow tonight. Rhod came too but after about 5 minutes of feathers and glitter he was ready to go and he wandered around the other 5 floors in the same time it took Amy and I to peruse this one area of the museum.

I was shocked to see so many of her most famous costumes on display. I should be so lucky to fit into them all though, they were tiny! It was a step back in time to see her famous mechanic's apprentice dungarees encased in a glass box. Je ne sais pas pourquoi but you couldn't take photos inside. I considered a sneaky no-flash attempt but had the camera been confiscated, 2000 pictures would have been lost. I actually took a moment to weigh up this decision but soon remembered how disappointed you would all be if deprived of these photos in the 5 hour slide show we will inflict upon you on our return. So I resisted but I did it especially for you kids.

The highlight of the exhibition (especially for the guys) came at the end as I edged my way to the front of an ever-increasing crowd of open-mouthed onlookers. There in a wall-mounted glass box glowing in all their glory were the iconic golden hotpants worn by Kylie in the 'Spinning Around' video. I think some of you would have given anything to put yourself in my place.

''Please stay," I pleaded with Rhod at the end. "Give me just a little more time in there!" Alas, lunch was calling and I was forced to come into my world again after an indulgent hour and a half.

[If you haven't worked out already, I'm not mad, I've just included as many Kylie song titles as possible in this blog. I challenge you to find them all. Oh and for those of you who don't know what I look like, this is a photo of me last night hanging out at a top Sydney bar.]

We watched some more footy today. This footy was NRL (Rugby League) For those in the UK rugby league is the other form of rugby played by Northerners. I believe I am correct in saying that Northern Rugby is played with only 13 players on each team as opposed to 15 because there are less people in the North.

South Sydney Rabbitohs V Melbourne Storm

Australians listen up. Rabbitohs is not a good name. It's not exactly going to instill fear in the opposition. Storm is a bit more purposeful and it is no surprise that by the end of the game the team named after the cuddly domestic pet have, to coin a phrase from an American, 'had their arse handed to them' by the team named after some thunder and lightening. Final score, for those who are interested (and I know there won't be many as only 8,500 people bothered to show up for the game even though the tickets were being given away for free) was Rabbitohs 14 Storm 38.

The truth is I can't warm to Rugby League. It's just not a good sport. I know you can't expect a rip snorter of a game when you are watching the bottom of the table team who haven't won all season but in reality it is tough to watch.

You will be pleased to hear that I actually gave the game my full attention this time. I even led the booing at one point for one of the Melbourne Storm who had just up-ended one of the opposition and dumped him on his head. I was more impressed however with the Rabbitoh cheerleaders who somehow managed to execute a dance routine to a version of Britney Spears' 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' mixed in with the Prodigy's 'Breathe'!?!

So I will rank the sports as I see them now.

1. Footy (Proper English Football)
2. Footy (Rugby Union)
3. Footy (Australian Rules)
4. Footy (American Football)
5. Footy (Rugby League)

Americans, be grateful you got 4th. I've not yet seen a game so I've been generous.

...a great light spread across the beach and the congregation were up standing to behold the new master! He then saluted the fact that his achievement was caught on video and fell backwards off his surfboard.

Sand? Check.
Water? Check.
Rubber suit that makes you look like a walrus without tusks? Check.
Surfboard the size of an 8 person dining table? Check.
Let's go surfing...Now!

Today we got the ferry from Sydney to Manly to go and check out the beach, sit in the sunshine and generally relax. This for me lasted about 15 mins and I then decided that I needed my first surfing lesson. I went to see Murray (that's a good Australian name) and signed myself up for 2 hours leaving Anna on the beach with the camera to capture the exceptional surfing that would no doubt be laid open for the public to admire over the next 2 hours.

The lesson started with some stretching. Nothing too difficult. The next stage involved rolling around in the sand pretending to jump up on a surfboard. That too was easy money. Then we had to go into the water. This, as they say on MTV Cribs, is where the magic was to happen.

I've hit a lot of water today. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards, regularly sideways and once, quite painfully, headfirst over the front of the board and into the sea bed. After a few waves and only some very brief standing up before falling off Murray had some advice for me.

"Wait until you're properly balanced before waving to the camera."

It turned out to be good advice because when taken on board I managed to stand, balance, ride the wave in to shore, wave to the camera and then fall off.

Once I had ridden one I decided I was ready for bigger waves. I wasn't. I spent the next 30 mins being thrown from my board, rolled around in the surf and then for further humilation my board, luckily covered in foam, would occasionally come along and hit me when I was least expecting it. After a few of those I returned to the beginners' waves and attempted to perfect my surfing skills.

So what do I do next? It seems I need some fairly long curly blonde hair. I had better get some beads (ankle, wrist or neck are all approved locations.) I need to shed a few pounds. I will have to get a hooded top. I'll move to Cornwall. Obviously I'll get a board and a wet suit. Then the real clincher....I will by myself a VW camper van. Then I can truly proclaim that I am a surfer.

"I'm sorry you can only get those tickets if you're under 26."

We've just been offended by the man at the ticket office in the Sydney Opera House. He wasn't offensive personally. He was smartly dressed and on the whole very friendly and informative but he has ushered the words that have hit us both and hammered home that we seem to be ageing backpackers!

We had been fine up until that point. We had managed to persuade 5 other gullible backpackers to come on a guided tour led by us with only a 6 year old Lonely Planet guide as a factual resource. The disappontment came when the stated price for a boat trip into Circular Quay had doubled and the proposed lunch venue had closed down. Other than that, a great day. We had managed to convince the group (in their early twenties) that we could please the masses. But then we hit the Opera House...

The good news is that we can still visit the Opera house but because we have cleared the well-known age threshold of 26(?!?) we will have to pay something in the region of a transatlantic airfare for the priviledge. This would mean sacrificing food, beer and the all-important luxury double room in the cleanest hostel in Sydney. As Champagne Backpackers, that's not going to happen.

So Sydney Opera House and the ballet (Whose name I've either forgotten or didn't know to start with - It was Giselle) it's your loss. I will take my ageing backpacker custom elsewhere.

Perhaps I'll go and play dominoes with the old boys in the Royal British Legion!

I'm sorry the rest of the world.

I suggested a few posts ago that you were no fun and that the home nations dominated all that was good in tour bus backpacking fun. I was wrong and I'm strong enough to admit it.

I feel I should intervene at this point before the ranting begins. It is a strange experience getting on a tour bus for the first time. You step on and go to find a seat smiling at the others already on the bus. You realise that you are going to be spending the next 4 days with these people. At 6:15am last Sunday we climbed aboard the bus which would take us from Melbourne to Sydney over 4 days. Naturally we were excited about the prospect of making a bus load of new friends. Sadly though, our hopes of bus friends were soon dashed as we heard the dulcet tones of a group of 19 year old Brits instructing everyone on the bus to 'Get involved!' After the obligatory passing round of the microphone to introduce yourself, we learnt a bit more about them. They consisted of 2 Mancs, a Londoner, 2 soon-to-be art students, (as an engineer I have a particular dislike for art students) a brother of one of the art students and a mute young couple. This set the tone for the rest of the trip.

"Getting amongst it!" What the hell is that supposed to mean? It's 6.15 in the morning in a raining Melbourne and this is all we can hear. It comes in various forms:
"Get amongst it"
"I'm getting amongst it"
"You've gotta get amongst it"
I want to scream out loud and get off the bus before we've even left Greater Melbourne!

It's just been hammered home to me that we are now in the British backpacker comfort zone. Melbourne all the way up to Cairns is a little bit of Australia that will forever be British. In London the Australians have Earls Court. Over here we have monopolised all of their East Coast and many brits probably believe that this is all Australia has to offer.

We had to spend the next 4 days with these people as we travelled from Melbourne to Sydney. On the way we visit Wilsons Promontory National Park which is home to the most Southerly point of mainland Australia and a beach called Squeaky beach named because it squeaks when you walk on it. They're so creative! We also stayed the night in a buddhist retreat and got fed vegetarian food. It's Ok. I can report that despite missing meat for one meal I feel fine and do not appear to have become anaemic. I had to eat 2 meat pies for lunch the following day just to make sure! My uncle Andrew would have had an issue with this lack of meat. He would have had to consult the 'Food Police' (ie. my dad) and demand an enquiry. We also visited the Australian Alps and despite there not being a huge amount of snow we still managed a quick snowball fight at the side of the road at 1800m above sea level. We even popped into parliament in Canberra.

The rest of the bus formed our own 'cool' group and still managed to have fun, namely by sharing a common dislike of the young-uns. We couldn't join their gang because we didn't own a vast array of ridiculous hats (predominantly chav trucker caps, and tweed Wacko Jacko numbers) nor did we end our evenings semi-naked, writing on each other in permanent marker and throwing up cheap wine ('goon') at 9:30pm.

I think there should be a manners exam before leaving the UK to ensure everyone has a grounding in the basics. I've thought this before when we have been on package holidays and I cringe as I watch Brits shouting at the top of their voice "I don't understand what your saying!" The last 4 days have been horrendous on the manners front. I have taught 7 year old children who are better at saying 'please' and 'thank you'. (They may have trouble spelling them but that's beside the point.) It took a group of twenty-something backpackers 4 days to learn the word 'please' and realise that if it was used then yes, the music would be turned up or down on request and, yes, we would be able to stop and take a photo. I was shocked that a small group of people could be so rude and I was sorry for the other nationalities on the bus who had to endure it.