Half way home

It's been 6 months since we left home to go on our year-long adventure around the world; 6 months of the most amazing, humbling and unforgettable adventures; 6 months of experiencing the unique colours, landscapes, religion, food, climate, languages and people of this beautiful world that we live in.

I can't find any more words to truly describe our time so far, so I've picked a couple of photos from each country that I love, I hope you do too...

The 'new, beautiful' family - Pokhara, Nepal

Langtang trek, Nepal

Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

Bia Hoi corner, HCMC, Vietnam

Koh Kong trek, Cambodia

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Langkawi, Malaysia

Sunset beach, Malaysia

Quobba blowhole, Western Australia

NYE, Sydney, Australia

Top of Franz Josef, New Zealand

Tongariro crossing, New Zealand

From snowy mountains to icy lakes

We hopped over to the other side of the Alps, to catch a glimpse of New Zealand's highest peak: Mount Cook. Med's parents had a surprise in store for us - we would be flying over the summit in an helicopter!
As we approached, the faint, white peaks of Mount Cook (3,754m) and Mount Tasman (3,497m) popped into view in the distance. We skirted Lake Pukaki, a brilliantly blue lake at the foot of the mountain range and crept closer to the snow-capped wonders.

We watched as the propellers of our helicopter swung into motion and we were ushered towards the noise and chopping blades. The noise was deafening, just as I had imagined, so we quickly piled inside and grabbed our headphones to block out the din.

Soon, we were hovering above the ground, levitating in a smooth motion towards the mountain range. We had impressive views of the mountains on one side, and the flat plains below, leading to Pukaki lake.

We rose steadily into the embrace of the mountains, surrounded on all sides by thick, crevassed snow and sharp, rugged peaks. Below our feet, we could see Lake Tasman with mammoth chunks of ice that had once belonged to the Tasman glacier. The lake is 727m deep, so that's some icefall.

We continued to fly-by the glacial icefalls and snow crevasses, all the while enjoying simultaneous mountain and lake valley views. We landed at a snowy spot at the top of the Franz Josef glacier with the Fox Glacier on our left. Far down below we could see where we had stood the day before, peering up at this glacial beast.

After an impromptu snowball fight and a final gawk at the spectacular views, we took to the skies once more, and this time Audrey and I were in the front seats.

The ride back included even more impressive views of the frozen glaciers, bright blue lakes and the flat, mild plains below. We even did a 360 of the Fox Glacier.

I can’t imagine anything surpassing the thrill of zooming past the craggy glacial peaks, getting as close a look at the mammoth ice flow as any human can. We were on a high long after our feet touched the ground.

We then went for a cooling dip in the iridescent Lake Pukaki. The glacial feed to the lakes in this area gives them a distinctive, milky blue colour, created by glacial flour - the extremely finely ground rock particles from the glaciers.

We rounded off an incredible day in a cottage near Twizel, with nothing but farmland and mountains as far as the eye could see.

The next few days we stopped in the small town of Te Anau, a gateway to the mighty Milford Sound. With up to 9 metres of rain annually and around 200 days of rainfall a year, to have a sunny day in Milford sound is very rare and you are a very lucky tourist if you happen to be there on such a day. We were the lucky tourists that day as the skies were blue and the air was balmy.

But it didn't start that way. We woke to thick, grey cloud and the mountains that surrounded us were mostly invisible on our journey towards Milford. Wisps of fog swirled all around us and we had little hope of it clearing.

We drove through the Homer Tunnel, a 13km mountain road tunnel of exposed rock and minimal light. At the other side it was still mist, murk and lost mountains. Yet, the cloud cover thinned as we reached our destination and Milford Sound came into sharp focus.

Out of the fog came a parade of chiseled rock faces that plummeted into aquamarine water; waterfalls of every shape and size from long thin to thundering sheets; and steep cliffs where moss and evergreens cling to soil-less surfaces. As we boarded our boat, we could already sea the snow-capped peaks in the distance and the reflection in the water that has made Milford Sound famous around the world.

The sky was blue above us and, all of a sudden, that misty haze that had so bothered us 30 minutes before was a bonus, lingering in the background. adding mystery to the countless lumbering headlands that lay sleeping around the fjord. Because it is a fjord, not a sound - an early mistake that stuck. It's also named after Milford Haven, but the similarities with the Welsh town it's named after end there.

Milford Sound is beautiful. We sailed through towards the sea, spotting seal colonies playing on the rocks and waterfalls as tall as 50 storey buildings. The rocks hold precious gems and gold, but the natural wonder of the sound has proved more precious to New Zealand so it has been left, untouched. We could see signs of the treasures the rock holds, with patches of jade green and copper gold visible from the boat.

The waterfalls weren't in their full glory due to the unusual lack of rain in the past week, but we still got drenched as the boat hovered close to the edge. The clouds rolled in once more as we arrived back at the small harbour, the curtains closing on the breathtaking performance we had just enjoyed.

We headed for classic, Kiwi 'fush 'n' chups' to celebrate another good day.

The next day we headed south to Queenstown, where we stayed in a lovely hotel with views of the town's iconic lake, alpine forest and mountains. We tucked into our first Fergburger, an infamous, delicious burger served up in the adventure capital of the south island. It didn't disappoint!

Before we knew it, we were saying goodbye to Audrey and Julian. We couldn't thank them enough for our week full of treats and unforgettable adventures.

The Medlands arrive in New Zealand

We had little time to dwell on Christchurch and it's empty centre, as we were picked up by Med's parents who had come out to meet us. It was family holiday, round two. And we were excited.

In a blur of plump sheep, gorgeous views and wispy clouds, the four of us drove to the township of Akaroa. Located on Banks Peninsular, south east of Christchurch, Akoroa sits on pretty harbour inside the eroded crater of a huge, extinct volcano.

As well as its hills and seacapes, Akoroa's charm is all borrowed from France, with French names, quaint shops and delicious food. So, the Medlands, coming from Guernsey, were quite at home!

After a couple of days of luxury, dinners out and wind-kissed walks along the coast, we headed onwards to explore the South Island, stopping off at the infamous Sheffield Pie shop for a warm and tasty treat.

We drove along the high mountain pass on the main divide of the Southern Alps to the picturesque, alpine village of Arthur's Pass, passing through broad plains, braided rivers, dramatic gorges and majestic mountains.

We settled into our cosy home-stay at Arthur's Pass, where the high, tussock-covered slopes are carpeted with wild herbs and alpine flowers and the Southern Alps form a dazzling backdrop of serrated ridges, roaring waterfalls and suspended snowfields.

Here, we met the park’s most infamous resident: the kea. This pesky alpine parrot has a very inquisitive nature and likes to fossick leftover picnic tit bits and strip rubber fittings off cars. Even the flowers outside the local restaurant had to be guarded from the mischief makers by chicken wire.

After a hearty, home-made breakfast in our home-stay, we headed to Franz Josef, stopping off pan for gold in a river, once the scene of a gold mining sight. We didn't find our fortune there, but we did come away with a few gold flecks and a small, smooth jade stone from the gold panning organised by the information centre. Well, gold beggars can't be choosers.

Franz Josef, our final stop of the day, is a town of 300 souls that takes care of the hundreds of thousands of tourists who descend upon the region to explore the nearby glaciers.

We pulled into our hotel, with the mist-laced mountains of the Southern Alps looming overhead. We had surely stepped into the movie-set for King Kong, an ethereal wonderland of lush ferns and heavy clouds. As we ate dinner that evening, the snowy peaks unveiled before us and we felt a twinge of excitement for the next day.

That evening, the boys took themselves off into the bush to spot the world's rarest kiwi in the wild (and happily it was mission accomplished, 20 mosquito bites later), while Audrey and I relaxed in the thermal spa - three, hot pools nestled in native rainforest and fed with pure, glacier water.

The next morning we walked across glacial rocks ('morrain', for you geographers out there) to the foot of the Franz Josef glacier. The Maori people know Franz Josef as Ka Roimata o Hine Hukatere (Tears of the Avalanche Girl). Legends tells of a girl losing her lover who fell from the peaks, and her flood of tears freezing into the glacier.

They must have been some tears, the glacier is huge and extends for 12km, fed by a 20-square-kilometre snowfield. We squinted up at the vast, frozen river leading from the tops of the mountains to the valley below, with its striking, natural ice sculptures and jagged peaks. The morning sun slowly crept across it's crests, throwing light on it's blue, frosty surface.

Christchurch: rising from the rubble

We flew over incredible Fiordland on our flight from Sydney and landed in Christchurch: a city slowly on the mend. There was little visible evidence of quake damage on the way from the airport through the Christchurch suburbs, but as we reached the centre it was a different story.

The first earthquake struck on September 4, 2010, and was a 7.1 magnitude quake that hit 25 miles west of Christchurch. It was, without question, a devastating earthquake, but it was the 6.3 magnitude aftershock that hit on February 22, 2011, which was the real monster. The February quake was centered just six miles south-east of Christchurch and resulted in significant property destruction, particularly in the city’s Central Business District.

As well as horizontal movement, the quake rose directly upward with more power, giving an almighty thump to the surrounding area with unimaginable force. Liquefaction produced 400,000 tonnes of silt, 4,000 buildings in the four avenues of the city centre had to be demolished, nearly 10,000 homes needed to be bulldozed and 185 lives were lost, making it New Zealand's second-deadliest natural disaster on record. It was this quake that changed life forever in Christchurch.

We arrived at our hostel (one of the few surviving ones) and received a map of the city. The helpful man at reception then took a red pen and drew a large block over the city, and scribbled it out. The red zone.

After nearly 12 months, the CBD is still on lock down. The only thing to do was walk and see it for ourselves. I don't know about you, but I've never seen the impact of such a recent natural disaster - it was a unique and unsettling opportunity that left us with few words.

As we began to walk, we are quickly rebuffed by 'danger, keep out' signs, chain-link fences, barricaded streets and construction bulldozers pushing around rubble. It was no mans land, apart from the brave demolition teams. It felt like it had just happened yesterday.

Just beyond the red zone perimeter we could see collapsed buildings, shattered glass and mundane items such as plastic chairs strewn on cracked pavements. We stood, wide-eyed, surveying the scene: half-collapsed shops still holding stock in the foreground and the ominous leaning towers in the background.

Missing from the scene is the Canterbury Television (CTV) building, which collapsed, caught fire and killed 115 of the 185 people who lost their lives. The finger of blame is still being pointed as a known weakness in its structure was not rechecked after the September 2010 earthquake, and now reports emerge that it failed to meet with modern standards for infrastructure in earthquake areas. I can't imagine how this must feel for the families who lost people inside the tower.

We had to zigzag around the edge of no man's land, walking past graffitied signs on every door saying things like 'UK team, CLEAR. 26/2'. First they went in to check for survivors, fires and gas leaks. Then they lift shaft team went to work to check for trapped people in multi-storey buildings. Now they're still stabilising, demolishing and clearing, a year on. And according to someone we spoke to who friend works for minimum wage in the red zone, still finding dead pets, body parts and mouldy food.

Among other buildings outside the main CBD, the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament was also severely damaged, with the towers falling. A decision was made to remove the dome because the supporting structure was weakened, and now the building is held up with a combination of hay bails and storage containers while they work out what to do with it. One of the rooms at the front of the building is mostly missing, but a suspended, open safe is still visible. Empty, like the rest of this holy structure.

It was soon 5pm, and the city was empty of workers on their way home. There was no clipping of polished high heels, loosening of ties and cheery colleagues heading for after-work drinks. There were just a few tourists, like us, looking in dismay at the rubble. It’s as if the heart of the city has been removed.

However, among the wreckage there are green buds of hope and renewal. While trying to find some life, we stumbled upon a shopping area that has opened in an ingenious set of shipping containers, re-engineered as temporary shops. Right here, where buildings collapsed and number of people were crushed to death by falling debris, a new life has grown from the rubble.

As the months go by, the red zone is steadily shrinking, and will eventually be replaced by a proposed new city centre. We saw signs everywhere for volunteers to help 'Green the rubble' by planting flowers and shrubs.

Despite the enormous loss, the looming presence of the red zone and continued legal thrashings, the people of Christchurch have remained loyal to their city and are working together to bring about Christchurch’s rebirth. The shrines of sympathy and charitable messages have gone, and been replaced with a positive, united effort to return the city to a place full of spirit, life and opportunity.

Farewell, Australia

We flew to Sydney for our last few days in this incredible country. It seemed a fitting farewell, in this iconic, unique and vibrant city which marked the very start of Australia as we know it.

Our exceptionally cool, dashingly handsome and extremely generous friend, Kev, let us stay in his studio flat for two nights and took us round the city for our grand, sightseeing finale.

We felt at home walking through the Botanic Gardens with the infamous views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. We climbed the Sydney Tower Eye, watching a 4D film (complete with real bubbles and sea splash) and took the lift (ok, so we can't claim to have "climbed" anything) to the dizzying heights of the tower.

From up high, it hit me just how big a space Sydney occupies. As far as the eye can see, there were sprawling suburbs and thriving industrial units. We had got so well acquainted with such a minuscule part of this colourful metropolis, it had tricked us into thinking it was so much smaller.

We followed Kev to a podcast recording for 'Football Fans Down Under', and was challenged to eat 2kg of sausage and mash in the process. It was brutal and the sausages were grisly, but, ever the hero, Kev managed a brave 1kg of stodge, which would come back to haunt him later. Amazing what men will do for football.

Rather than let Kev digest his heavy belly, we decided upon a two hour coastal walk from Coogee beach to Bondi in the breezy sunshine. It was alive with happy locals and tourists soaking up the afternoon sunshine and the perfect way to spend our last day.

Each city has it’s own vibe and character, but at the heart, the people and the soul are all the same. The Australian people are a particularly friendly and helpful bunch and their dry sense of humor and open honestly gives them the edge.

Still, it's not always smiles down under. As I popped to a public loo on our walk, there was an unusual stand off between two drunk Aboriginal women and a polite, embarrassed queue of white people. The white people, apart from me, avoided looking at the drunk pair who were pushing in and shouting at each other. And, in turn, the drunken duo didn't seem to acknowledge or even see the queue of people. For all the love I have for Australia, this is where it fails.

As I'm penning this, I'm seeing flashing images of Julia Gillard (you can be forgiven for not knowing that this is Australia's Prime Minister) being physically dragged into a car on Australia Day in the midst of a protest about the treatment of Aboriginal people. Perhaps this will be the turning point they need.

These things aside, as a country, Australia is full of brilliance and endless surprises. There's something around every corner and down every road, however long it may take you to find it. And I was surprised myself, surprised by just how much I loved it.

From dodging kangaroos in a campervan to watching the march of the world's smallest penguin; from hiking through empty, red gorges to snorkeling with sharks and turtles; from watching the world's greatest New Year's Eve celebrations, to sailing around peaceful, paradise islands. Australia is a feast for every sense.

Until next time, Australia, thank you.

Australia Day on Magnetic Island

We had been using the Greyhound Bus service to get us up the coast, and it always provided solid entertainment. From the stressed-out driver with his little shorts and grey socks pulled up to the knee, to the arguments that ensued over seating and bookings (mostly from Germans or French, everyone loves a stereotype!).

The highlight, though, was when the whole bus started to flood in a storm on the way north to Queensland, creating a river through the gangway and drenching people's seats and curtains. We were glad to escape onto the flooded streets of Townsville and waved off everyone else who had six more hours, overnight, to Cairns.

Thankfully the rain stopped and the sun shone for the next few days we spent with our lovely friend, George (not boy George from Christmas, but girl George this time), who we knew from our Cardiff days too. George and her boyfriend, Dave, moved to Townsville when George was offered a job out there and are enjoying a life of beaches, BBQs and insane humidity.

George and Dave, who had some other friends visiting from home, Tom and Abby, took us over to Magnetic Island - a twenty minute boat ride from Townsville. "Is it magnetic, then?" you're probably wondering. The short answer is no. The name stuck because of the apparent 'magnetic' effect it had on Captain Cook's compass as he passed by the island when sailing up the east coast of Australia in 1770.

People have since explored the general area of Magnetic Island with various instruments to discover what might have caused the effect that Cook reported, but nothing has been discovered. It's now affectionately known as 'Maggie Island'.

It was Australia Day, the national holiday to commemorate the arrival of the First Fleet of British at Sydney Cove in 1788. Naturally, this makes the day a little controversial, with some preferring to call it 'Invasion Day'. But whatever you want to call it, we were happy to head to the beach with some beers and go for a warm swim within the stinger nets.

While further south the floods were setting in, we were sweltering in the sunshine as we made our way to the house George's kind neighbour had let us borrow for a few days - a cute, classic Aussie bungalow with the toilet in a shed outside.

The boys took themselves off to the cyclone-battered pier to fish for our BBQ supper. After more than an hour of trying, they were swiftly upstaged by a seven year old and decided to call it a day. We then did what Aussies across the nation where doing: stuffed our faces with BBQ food and beer, and then fell asleep while watching The Lion King. Ok, most of them probably weren't doing the latter...they were probably watching Crocodile Dundee.

Apparently, Magnetic Island has the biggest koala colony in Australia, with 2500, compared to just 2000 human inhabitants. Unfortunately, they were a lot more conspicuous than the population they outnumbered when the next day we hired a mini Moke (a pink and white open-top Barbie car, no less) and cruised round the island. Despite keeping our eyes open, they managed to hide from us on our walk, but we did manage to sweat out all the meat and beer from the night before.

Taking in the undulating, tropical views, we went swimming at the beautiful, sun-drenched Horseshoe Bay and a few others along the way, then tootled in our toy car to see the rock wallabies, tiny little wallabies that, you guessed it, live amongst the rocks. We watched the miniature families up close and then spotted a turtle bobbing in the water.

Our wildlife watch continued that evening as we went out for Mexican food, where wild possums come for Nachos every evening, I kid you not. We were thankful for our rabies shots, when one of them took a chunk out of Med's finger.

The it was off to meet up with friends we've made along the way up the coast at a full moon party by the sea, where neon paint mixed with a stunning backdrop of tropical mountains and roaring waves.

Sailing the Whitsundays

After a relaxing two days in Hervey Bay, recovering from Fraser Island merriment, we headed to Airlie Beach to hit the waves of the Whitsundays.

This is where the Great Barrier Reef starts, although noone can completely agree on this - some say the Great Barrier Reef is bigger than the whole of the United Kingdom. It consists of some 3,000 separate reefs, over 600 islands, at least 1,500 species of fish and 400 types of coral (and counting).

Cairns, and further north in Port Douglas, are the best launch pads to see the Great Barrier. And, due to destruction, pollution, global warming and excessive tourism, these days you have to spend a lot more money to see the part of the reef that can still claim to be one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World.

On this trip, we decided time and temperature was against us heading further north and we liked the idea of having a reason to come back. Here's hoping the best parts of the reef will still be in all their Wonder-ful glory.

The Whitsundays not only offer a beautiful sailing experience through islands frosted with white sand and tropical ocean, they're also a backdoor to the Great Barrier to give us a salty taste of Australia's most famous tourist attraction.

Our catermarang was quite luxurious by backpacker standards. We lazed on deck as we sailed through the islands, the sun was bouncing off the water. We made several stop offs for swimming and snorkelling, seeing lots of fish around the coral. It has to be said, while many of our group were really impressed with what they saw, for us it was sad to see the dead coral from too many boats and tourists.

It was also peak jellyfish season, so we had to put on stinger suits (sexy wet suits) to protect ourselves.

We had swam in the sea all around Australia and there's always the chance you can get stung, and not just by any ordinary jelly fish. Blue bottles (the Portuguese man-of-war) and the box jellyfish sting can be deadly (to name just two), and the Whitsundays also had some they call 'Snotties' which, yes, could be mistaken for a giant's bogey underwater. But here they were rife and we were all more than happy to wear the suit - plus it saved us wearing suncream which harms the coral and fish.

Hungry from all the swimming, we ate like kings, with three cake stops a day, sunset snacks and huge buffets. That night, after a beautiful dinner, we got to gasp at the spellbinding sight of the Milky Way on deck as we let the tiredness of a day at sea soak into our muscles. Med and I headed for an early night as we were scuba diving the next day.

We were sharing a cabin with six other people, but had a private 'pod' that you could just about sit up in. I slept like a baby (although not like me as a baby, I was nightmare, just ask my mum).

We were up at 6am to beat the other boats to Whitehaven beach. The beach is a wide arc with an inlet on one end, with sand so white your eyes wince and squint in the glare. It's 99.9% silica and they say some of it was used to make the lens on NASA's Hubble telescope (although we're sure we've heard this before, elsewhere). The sea is also an astounding spectrum of turquoise, and in the shallows we watched rays and baby lemon sharks play.

Back on the boat, Med and I headed out on a dive with three others and swam around the vibrant coral and fish. The highlights were lion fish and a lizard fish - sadly no turtles or sharks. The visability was deteriorating by the afternoon and so we didn't do any more dives, including what would have been my first night dive.

Still, we snorkelled and relaxed with new friends in the sunshine, enjoying our slice of luxury at sea.