Georgie and Rod's Grand Adventure
a blog of our travels
The first lemur we saw
Gorgeous chameleon
Georgie on Lemur Island
Brown lemur on Lemur Island
GORGEOUS!
Awwww….
Bamboo lemur
How cute is that?
Very rarely seen Black and White Ruffed Lemur
Dramatic mountains on the way to the west coast
The very dramatic Avenue of Baobabs
Georgie looking petite 🙂
And Rod thought he was tall!
Sleeping lemur at Kirindi
Slow moving chameleon we rescued off the road
Ranomafana National Park
Seen night spotting
Also seen night spotting in the rain
Due to the scarcity and unreliability of wifi in this otherwise amazing country, we have not blogged for some time. But here it is:
Update: we never seem to have enough wifi to put the pictures in so we will attempt that seperately to the text.
MADAGASCAR DAY 2
We started the day with a pleasant brekkie out on our sunny private verandah overlooking Antananarivo (or Tana as the locals call it). Unfortunately the Malagasy brekkie was a bit short for a couple of starving Aussies – particularly when I selfishly but unwittingly hogged all the milk in my coffee so that the poor long suffering Georgie had to have her morning cup of tea black! Oh my goodness gracious me!
Once in the car we wove through the crowded and fascinating streets of Tana, spotting only a couple of other Vassars (foreigners, or “Wazzah!” as the kids call out at us) along the way, until we reached the rural areas where every gully is planted with rice and the buildings are mainly made of crumbling mud brick or wattle and daub. Tiny roadside stalls abounded selling produce like bananas, persimmons, guavas and other tropical fruits. There the roads are narrow and filled with pot holes that would swallow a school bus. Sometimes young fellas would stand next to the bigger pot holes holding shovels with their other hand out asking for money.
We travelled over a high mountain range that was blanketed with eucalyptus trees. These Australian icons are regularly cut and allowed to resprout at the base so that the locals can make charcoal from the stems. Gas for cooking is too expensive for most Malagasies so big bags of charcoal can be bought from numerous roadside stalls. Driving through seemingly endless forests of bushy gum trees is quite surreal in this otherwise totally exotic environment.
Our driver stopped at a private park where we were led up into the hills in search of wild lemurs. Georgie uncomplainingly endured a climb of (seemingly) thousands of meters to the high forests where we eventually came across a family group of those wonderfully endearing creatures. Aching legs and tight chests were forgotten as we hand fed a group of these gorgeous animals. We encountered two different species of lemurs – the white, black and brown ones in the photo below (name unfortunately forgotten) endemic to this region only, and the common brown lemurs, found across the country.
Then we descended the mountain to visit the breeding enclosures of chameleons where they are multiplied in preparation for release into the wild again. Chameleons have to be the most beautiful reptiles I have ever come across, so slow moving, so colourful and so inoffensive. Gorgeous creatures.
After that we drove to Andasibe National Park where we visited an island where lemurs abound. Our guide managed to call them down by mimicking their call, so that we could hand feed them pieces of banana. Having a fluffy warm lemur leap onto your shoulders and feed from your palm is a wonderful thing. Sometimes two of them were perched up there. There were three species of diurnal lemurs that we encountered on the island, making four species for the day.
MADAGASCAR DAY 3
We started very early in preparation for being whisked away to the bank to withdraw further MILLIONS to pay for all of the exciting activities we have planned for the next couple of days. ATMs are few and far between (hundreds of kilometers) and credit cards unheard of, so we need to keep our wallets full of paper money – which is usually so well used and grubby and so frankly disgusting that it is almost a pleasure to hand it over to an eager hand awaiting payment.
It had rained solidly all night so there was even more mud over the road from land slips (the recent cyclone had caused a lot of slips) so the ride to town was even more scary than normal.
Our next little adventure involved a walk through Andasibe National Park in search of wildlife. Despite the continual drenching rain and totally sodden shoes and clothes (guess who forgot to pack rain coats!) plus the arduous nature of the mostly undeveloped trails and the uppy-downy terrain, Georgie still did not utter a single complaint or whinge.
We located two family groups of Indri lemurs (a species we had not previously seen), plus several tree crabs (most unusual), a sleepy little ground boa with a bulging belly indicative of a recent feed, and a solitary brown lemur. The forest echoed with the sounds of lemur calls and a variety of frog songs.
We each managed to remove solitary leeches before they could properly attach themselves. The leeches here are weensy little things.
MADAGASCAR DAY 4
Our driver Mizo took us for an exhilarating journey on the crazy Madagascan roads, across the country towards our destination of the very famous Avenue of Baobabs (some 9 hours of driving). The distances are not so phenomenal but the roads certainly are. Heaps of big trucks spewing clouds of diesel fumes as they chug along slowly and swerve erratically to avoid potholes, pedestrians, human and zebu-drawn wooden carts and other crazy drivers. I had to train myself not to look out through the windscreen for fear of giving myself heart attacks everytime we passed millimetres from anything, but instead to keep a firm eye out the side window at the fascinating countryside.
As we left the wetter regions and progressed towards the drier west coast not only did the countryside change, but so did the buildings and roadside stalls. The crumbling single storey wattle and daub houses transitioned to narrow two and three storey mud brick buildings of a much more substantial nature. The guava, persimmon and banana stalls transitioned to lots of craft stalls selling baskets, religious icons, toy trucks and vast numbers of vegetable stands. Huge areas of arable land, planted with a variety of veges and rice, filled the valleys whilst the almost bare rocky hills jutted up between them.
Some forests of pine trees were tapped like rubber trees so that resin could be gathered and sold as fire lighters, something we had never seen before.
All the creeks and rivers were running brim-full after the recent cyclones and the countryside appeared very green from the recent rains. Despite its apparent fertility you could see that the denuded hills would be very dry and harsh for most of the year.
At Antsirabe, where we spent the night, we first took a stroll down the wide main drag before dark where lots of families were spending a warm Sunday afternoon in the public gardens. Little kids were being pushed around in little pedal cars and people were hiring horses to trot up and down whilst others had little bbqs going. Many beautiful smiley children greeted us with “Bonjour!” It was lovely.
MADAGASCAR DAY 5
After spending the night on the third floor of a hotel in Antsirabe (all those steps!) and discovering that they didn’t do breakfast, Mizo took us in search of a boulangerie where we consumed French-ish pastries before heading off further west.
We passed through fertile volcanic valleys with remnant volcanoes rearing up out of this intensively cultivated landscape. Although rice was the most common crop (Malagasies eat rice three times a day, Mizo tells us) there was also a variety of veges produced there. Mounds of carrots lay along side the road with families sorting through them, and brassicas, cassava, papayas and a heap of other stuff was in cultivation all around.
The road then wound through much higher and drier grassy mountains with spectacular scenery and scattered villages perched atop lofty ridges. Mostly the mountains were too harsh to grow food on, but many of the valleys were planted out with rice and mango trees. In the villages the road became quite narrow because people used the tarred surface to spread out their rice to dry. Luckily there was little traffic to run over it out this far in the boondocks.
The road at this stage could probably be described as abominable. A long time ago there had been great effort and great expense made to put in a two lane tarred road that traversed this huge island. Unfortunately the effort appears to have stopped there. Now it is a long black stretch that is pock marked with craters and crevasses. The ride was somewhat bumpy at times with Mizo slamming on his breaks and swerving wildly to avoid plummeting into these numerous abysses.
Eventually we descended into a wide river valley where the temperatures climbed to almost uncomfortable levels. Stopping for a hot (!) lunch at a restaurant with a wonderful view of the river, we chewed on rubbery zebu and Malagasy poulet which had obviously been a sinewy athlete of a chook before arriving on our plates. We perspired our way through this very tasty and very chewy lunch before heading off along wonderfully scenic dry country with palms (livistonias I think) and other attractive and exotic native vegetation.
Soon we began spotting baobabs jutting out amongst the other stunted trees. Their distinctive forms projecting high above the regular vegetation. Hurrah! We were almost there!
We rolled into the intensely busy seaside town of Morondava and moved into what could have been a nice little seaside resort with cabins, but was actually a shabby run down joint that endured regular power failures. We demanded another bungalow when we saw that the toilet seat had only a few centimetres of pee-splattered plastic remaining attached to it. The second bungalow’s dunny seat was broken but we managed to tape that together with some duct tape we had in our backpack so that it was at least usable.
Our disgruntlement with all this shabbiness was eased by the lovely open deck restaurant atop the dunes with a pleasant sea breeze and Madagascar’s most fabulous product: Three Horses Beer, or THB. A bloody top drop indeed. The meals were a delight and we retiired to our sweatbox feeling quite sated. Unfortunately the power failure meant that the fan stopped blowing and the water cut out – so no showers or flushing toilets.
MADAGASCAR DAY 6
A bone-jarring ride along hours of never graded dirt roads to the totally awe-inspiring Avenue of Baobabs was our next adventure. It is impossible to describe how wonderful those stately behemoths are, scattered in their hundreds over that stark and beautiful landscape. Truly majestic. Fabulous. There are not enough superlatives to describe these amazing trees and the vista they create. Well worth the bad back from the bumps.
We then progressed further along that atrocious road to the dry forests of Kirindi Nat Park. A local guide took us for a meandering wander through the dense dry vine scrubs in search of more lemurs. Lots of lovely lizards scattered before our feet as we marvelled at the unusual plant life tangled beneath the huge scattered baobabs. We stumbled across a family of pretty black and white sifaka lemurs that leaped with fabulous grace between the trees. Then we located another group of the more common brown lemurs who were endearingly sprawled sleepily over branches in the midday heat. Click go the cameras, click, click, click. The walk back through the scrub revealed masses of colourful butterflies of many varieties lapping at the damp patches of mud in the earthen tracks. This was almost an overload of beauty in a strange and tangled forest in an exotic land.
We elected to not wait the remaining two hours in the stifling heat until sunset to catch the evening light through the baobabs, deciding instead to jolt our way back to the ‘resort’ and catch the evening seabreeze on the restaurant deck and enjoy a few cool THBs.
MADAGASCAR DAY 7
The next morning was particularly unique because not only did Georgie wake me, but she also saw the sunrise. Our ingrained habits are changing.
We re-traversed the very scenic mountains and volcanic agricultural land on our way back towards the eastern side of Madagascar. The clear blue skies were replaced by massive storm clouds and tropical downpours in the distance. All very dramatic.
En route we tried our first street food – some deep fried battered bananas and some small sweet buns. After about 5 hours we still didn’t have the gallops, which was something of a relief.
Passing through Antsirabe again we veered off to the south to folow a deep river that had narrow 2 storey buildings perched high amongst the rocks as the roaring river foamed over vast granite boulders and snaked between the paddy fields. The views just got better and better as we climbed higher into the mountains and the air chilled off. The road twisted and turned, following the very scenic river until we came across some fruit stalls selling late season mangoes for-goodness-sake (which were expensive by Malagasy standards because they were the last to be had, but we were happy to pay the equivalent price of 5 for $1 – and they were delicious indeed).
Eventually, with Mizo driving like Jack Brabham incarnate, we arrived at the poshest accommodation thus far in a unique bustling mountain town. The next day we were to go in search of yet more lemurs in the Ranomafana Nat Park.
MADAGASCAR DAY 8
We departed fairly early and climbed up into some high mountains, the road twisting through trimmed eucalyptus forests until we finally entered the native forests. The Ranomafana Nat Park is an extensive protected area that encompasses beautiful lush native rainforest that has wonderful bubbling and cascading creeks and rivers roaring through it. There is still some primary forest there, but the vast majority is rapidly regrowing – and stunningly beautiful – secondary forest. It was explained to us the reason why the primary forests were so scarce, the forest tribes used to engage in slash and burn agriculture, regularly moving on to clear new patches. These tribes are now permanently settled in villages so as to protect the areas of remaining bushland. Due to the clear felling of enormous areas for eucalypt plantations there is just not enough left for them.
The Ranomafana Nat Park is the most visited of all the rainforest parks, and rightly so, it is gorgeous and wonderfully scenic and photogenic. Dodging the bus loads of French tourists, our guide led us through these mossy cloud forests, he and his spotter finding all sorts of beautiful creatures for us. Chameleons, a leaf-tailed gecko, a streaked tenric (look that one up!) and a wonderful array of lemurs. The critically endangered golden bamboo lemur was a highlight, but we also saw a greater bamboo lemur, a black and white ruffed lemur and, of course, the common brown lemur, and a number of different birds and insects as well as the wonderful plant life. The walk was stunning and absolutely worth it, but extremely arduous as we ascended up into the steep mountains with Georgie once again uncomplainingly enduring several million steps and lots of very steep climbs.
When we later arrived at our accommodation for the night there were some groans emitted as we looked at the 62 steps and long steep paths that led up to our little bungalow on the mountain side. And then to descend and reascend for the night spotting walk was a further challenge. The night spotting in the pouring rain was fruitful, we saw lots of chameleons (mostly tiny wee things – how did he ever manage to locate them?) and a few frogs and resting birds.
After all that Georgie and I are now ready to tackle the race up and down Walsh’s Pyramid in Cairns. Our leg muscles are absolutely rippling!
MADAGSCAR DAY 9
We returned to Tana, enduring perhaps the most terrifying drive of my life as Mizo hot-footed it along those crazy Madagascan roads. As footpaths are virtually non-existant in this country we shared the road with chickens, goats, zebu-drawn wooden carts, human-drawn wooden carts and rickshaws, enormous black-smoke-billowing trucks, pedestrians (many of whom were small children), pushbikes, and of course other crazy Malagasy drivers, all of whom were intent on driving as fast, aggressively and dangerously as possible with their horns blaring.
But we arrived, safe and without killing anyone, at our initial wonderful B&B in Tana once again. There we enjoyed another sumptuous meal (Eliane is surely the best cook in all Madagascar) and I drank my final THB (sigh). Eliane is also the only one in this country who knows how to make a proper cuppa tea, so both of us managed to de-stress after our bone-rattling, teeth-chattering, sphincter-clenching horrendous drive.
The next morning included a tour of the city and then off to the airport to fly to Cape Town in South Africa. With some relief we realised that this would be the last scary drive in Mizo’s car. Phew! Never again will we complain about Australian drivers.
Unfortuately the draft that we made for Madagascar is too big and the system won’t handle it. So after many frustrating attempts we will skip that exciting part of our travels and go on to what we are up to now.
We will attempt to post Madagascar later.
Flying into Antananarivo airport we could see the flooding in the surrounding country from the recent cyclone. The rivers were a-gusher with muddy brown water, but no damage to infrastructure was evident. Mind you, apart from a few scattered 2 storey buildings out there it was mostly dirt roads and farms, with a few still-foliated trees here and there.
After the very basic passport checks and everybody trying to scrounge tips from the rich white foreigners for pushing our luggage, we were driven through the crowded and chaotic city streets. Young fellows pushing heavy 4 wheeled trolleys, cars and motorbikes skimming past each other with millimetres to spare, tiny shops open to the busy street, vendors walking amongst the stalled traffic selling anything (one bloke was even flogging shower heads!) and the open rice paddies ringed by ramshackle huts. It was busy, it was alive and it was exciting.
Our accommodation is quaint and up high on the hill overlooking the city. Gorgeous green geckoes run around the walls and the courtyard is shady and comfortable. On the horizon is the Queen’s palace and the Prime Minister’s palace. Storm clouds are rolling in, adding to the picturesque quality of the view from our large private verandah.
We met our guide and organised the final details of our private tour then were driven to the ATM to withdraw MILLIONS of Ariary. Great wads of money!
Tomorrow we leave for the rainforest to investigate the natural side of this fascinating land.
We were picked up at Jo’burg Airport by Sue and Steve and whisked away to their hilltop home, overlooking the bright lights of the city and safely secured by the ubiquitous razor wire and electric fencing so commonly seen here. We undertook several ventures out to shop and dine with our generous hosts.
At every stoplight hawkers attempted to sell things to us as they stood precariously on the white lines between lanes, as cars whizzed dangerously past. Our windows were always wound up and the doors locked. In parking lots uniformed guards directed traffic and kept an eye on the parked vehicles for a tip of a few pitiful rand. Unemployment is rife and people will do anything for the tiniest amount of money.
Finally we were driven out of the city and into the vast surrounding countryside. The high veldt around Jo’burg is a wide and undulating grassland that has extensive farms of maize and peanuts, with gullies filled with Australian eucalyptus and wattle trees. Enormous coal mines and huge powerstations abound.
That very fast highway then led us through some hilly country blanketed with pine trees and eucalypt plantations, then down into some deep and beautiful valleys with native vegetation clinging to their rugged sides. Georgie spotted a zebra (that I missed) grazing with some cattle, then we all saw a small troupe of baboons foraging on the road side. Unfortunately they disappeared off into the scrub when we dropped a U-ey to check them out.
We drove past plenty of citrus and pomegranate (I think) plantations scattered through the steep valleys and I eagerly surveyed the native scrub that grew up the steep hillsides. Tall aloes that we initially mistook for cycads dotted the slopes. Trees and shrubs grew to modest heights, their small leaves and tangled branches making it difficult for me to discern what they might have been. The occasional Aussie gum tree jutted tall above the indigenous vegetation.
Eventually we arrived at our destination of Graskop, a pretty and neat little town in the hills that is well geared for tourism, but in a nice and not too spoilt way. Dropping our gear at our accommodation we headed out to ‘Gods Window’, a stunning series of fabulous views situated on the edge of a high and steep escarpment. This was the site of the coke bottle being thrown back to God in ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’ – but we refrained from hurtling litter over the precipice. We then wandered amongst the fascinating bushland clinging to the clifftops with me getting very excited at the unusual plants I kept stumbling across in these mossy cloud forests. This point was the absolute highlight for me as I finally got close up and personal with the true Africa that I had been waiting so impatiently for.
Afterwards we ventured back into Graskop and investigated an amazing curio shop filled with brilliant sculpted art gathered from all over Africa. The idea of filling a ship’s container with these masterpieces and making our fortunes in Australia with them was eagerly discussed.
A splendid meal at a small restaurant and it was off to bed in anticipation of the next day’s adventure in the Blyde River Canyon, reputedly one of the largest in the world.
The next morning saw us driving along the edge of the canyon, stopping occasionally to take in the breathtaking views. The depth of the canyon varied a lot until we finally neared the Three Rondavels and the distances stretched out until the far side began to fade into the haze and the valley floor plummeted to many thousands of metres deep. We watched in awe as our cameras clicked madly away.
After reaching our accommodation near the canyon’s edge I wandered off to explore one of the side gullies. The orange and yellow cliffs reached down into densely forested and shady crevices, filled with strange and unfamiliar plants, mosses and lichens.
Early this morning as the sky began to lighten I set off for an even longer hike around the edge of the precipice and down into an even deeper valley. This is where I wrote the following:
‘Sitting on a smooth water-worn rock in the remote African wilderness as a clear mountain stream tumbles and bubbles past me. Tall sandstone cliffs tower over this deep valley that I have just trekked down into, as the morning sun’s rays begin to light up the lichen bedecked orange rocks around me. Not another soul in sight, I am an hour’s walk into this rugged bushland with another hour-plus to return. All the plants around me have a familiar aspect to them, but upon closer inspection they reveal marked differences to their Australian cousins, separated by enormous distances and millions of years. The protea forests up high on the ridges are reminiscent of banksia forests, and the mossy tangled forests of the valley floor have many similarities to what I have found in many an Aussie gully. Running across scats and traces of baboons, fine trotter prints and the occasional shy forest steinbok is an utter thrill for me as I quietly wander through this beautiful landscape.’
The creek that I followed back to where the others were still slumbering was a series of multiple mossy waterfalls tumbling into clear and deep pools. Ancient trees with massive boles and enormous roots wrapped over the sandstone ledges stood tall over these shady havens.
Although the climb back up the ridge was steep and arduous, I loved every minute. By the time I reached the road at the top the day had begun in earnest and I walked straight into a large troupe of baboons, perhaps 30 or more of them. Several of the larger ones stood their ground as the others dispersed into the bushes, but I simply raised my arms high above my head with my akubra clutched in my hand and all the baboons disappeared, shaking branches and making their strange barking calls as they left.
We returned to Jo’burg in preparation for tomorrow’s flight to Madagascar, and sat on the high verandah watching a wild lightning storm lashing the city blow.
The last time I had been through South Australia – which admittedly was more than 30 years ago – the road only travelled over very flat land, nary a hill was to be seen. Consequently for years after I tended to pooh pooh the idea of ‘The Adelaide Hills’, instead referring to the ‘Adelaide Undulations’. However, the fancy new road that we drove over this time took us through some very hilly country indeed. Steep valleys, high ridges and some stunning big trees. Very nice. Therefore I officially retract all the slinging off that I have previously done, yes, there are hills in Adelaide.
Despite the mad rush that we found ourselves committed to, we revelled in the glories of the stunning Nullabor. The tall crumbling cliffs that stand high above the foaming waves and azure seas of the Great Australian Bight are breathtaking. The strange plants that sprawl over the flat limestone landscape are gorgeous and unique. Botanical wonders that I have never seen before. And the best part is that we weren’t forced to share it with thousands of others like at the Twelve Apostles.
We saw our first WILD Land Mullet (a big stubby and scaly skink). We rescued him off the road. Groups of emus, mobs of roos, plenty of cute little jacky lizards (a small dragon) and a plethora of magpies and crows.
Then we reached the South West. The big trees and green grass was wonderful after the starkness of the Nullabor. Multiple species of colourful parrots were regularly seen, some of which we were not familiar with. We made a bee-line to Cheyney Beach, a place that I fell in love with all those long decades ago. It was just as beautiful as I remembered it, still relatively undeveloped and full of stunning banksias and other weird plants with alien forms. The grass trees were a silver colour with multiple short stubby flower spikes. Giant granite tors stood high on the hills and the beaches shone a brilliant white and extended for kilometres. Very very pretty, but quite windy and wet with a chill to the breeze.
Next we drove on to Walpole and the Valley of the Giants, which is a patch of enormous tingle trees in amongst the towering Karri forests. This place is awesome and the karri trees themselves were just peeling their stringy bark off and exposing the smooth flesh beneath, which shone a golden orange in the misty wet conditions. These forests are absolutely wonderful.
Then on to Perth to catch up on old friends. The next step is to fly out to South Africa. Tonight!!!
The trip down the Pacific Hwy was mostly unexceptional except for the signicant chance discovery of a National Motorcycle Museum.
Her Ladyship dropped me at its door in a tiny country town for 30 mins as she went off to browse some interesting little shops down the street. When I wandered in the front door I was almost overwhelmed by the seemingly endless collection of fabulous old bikes of all descriptions. They stretched off into the distance, crammed together in an enormous shed that had its walls draped in vintage motorcycle paraphenalia. Sheer heaven! Then I discovered another huge shed adjoining the first that was literally packed to the rafters with two wheeled gems of all ages. Then I discovered another shed! Oh my goodness gracious me! I managed to find examples of every bike I had ever owned (except my present Ducati), and even two old Hodaka Combat Wombats that my uncle Phil used to race back in the 1960s.
Needless to say, 30 mins was not enough and Her Ladyship gracefully granted me another hour, after which I stumbled out dazed and euphoric with sensory overload.
The torrential rain we drove through was also worth commenting on. Visibility was down to just a few car lengths at times.
Finally we reached the bottom of the East Coast as we rolled into Melbourne. We’d dodged the Snowy Mountains because it was raining so heavily there, but the city was sunny, although the traffic incredible. As we trickled slowly through the main drag Georgie spotted a Sketchers shoe shop. She leaped out as we dribbled along and I did a blockie, dodging one way streets, malls and busy pedestrian crossings. By the time I got back around the block she emerged clutching her prize.
We stayed with an old and dear friend of Georgie’s, Colleen Du Bois and her family, walking their dog on the beach at sunset and chatting into the night.
In the morning we did the Great Ocean Road and marvelled in its beauty and feasted on its roadside blackberries.
The Twelve Apostles was gorgeous and impressive in its size and grandure, however sharing it with the thousands (not exaggerating) of other visitors from all around the world was an unexpected surprise. It is very popular indeed.
We embarked upon our journey up the Mann River valley a little later than originally hoped, but actually wrenching ourselves out of bed was more difficult than expected.
The country we experienced was huge, green, empty (of humans) and stunning. The good quality dirt road follows the calm waters of the Mann most of the way, meandering between steep tree clad ridges and hugging close to the escarpments. Thousands of broad pools separated by rapids and smooth worn rocks provide glorious havens to sit by. And none have crocs in them either!
We eventually arrived at the wild bush hippie farm that formed such a large part of my formative years. Georgie said to me “Don’t be disappointed.” But of course I was, all those fruit trees we planted, the kilometres of fencing we built, the bakehouse and a dozen other things were either gone or in disrepair. But that was all more than 30 years ago now….
We then drove up through the wild hills of the Guy Fawkes National Park. Little did we realise exactly how rough the road would be. For several hours we trundled along at a maximum of 25 km per hour, bouncing over rocks and gutters. But the lookouts we found in those remote and isolated hills were breath taking, until a large rain cloud hovered over us and doused us in an almost tropical-style downpour. Gone were the views, and the rough dirt road became a gushing water course. It was most exhilarating.
Next came the drive across the gorgeous Dorrigo plateau, with its rich red soil and lush dairy country. The transition from the remnant sub-tropical rainforests to the temperate Antarctic Beech rainforests was fabulous.
We then headed down through the pretty Bellinger Valley to the coastal highway. Tomorrow we should manage to get past Sydney.
Having spent quality time with family in southern Queensland we headed well away from the busy highways and threaded our way through the green hills behind the densely populated and busy Gold Coast and explored the stunningly beautiful Numingbah Valley.
We then crossed over the breath-taking Border Ranges and dropped down into the lush green valleys of northern NSW below. The narrow roads wound through delightful valleys and tiny quiet townships, shady and green in their steeply hidden pockets. This is the famed Rainbow Region of the 70s and 80s where the alternative lifestyles have now transformed into a more mainstream form of lifestyle. Gone are the wild bush hippies of yesteryear, with the notable exception of Nimbin. There the colour and bloodshot eyes still thrive.
We called in on an old mate who has a remote property, but unfortunately he was busily battling bureaucracy in town so we amused ourselves chatting to his lovely old dogs. This was theraputic for us because we had recently lost our own poor old dog.
Following scenic backroads we travelled through lovely countryside, avoiding the busy highways and traffic and eventually stopped in Grafton.
Tomorrow we head up into the magnificent Mann River valley.