notes and images
It’s 2020. Why would you take film to Antarctica? No, it’s not because I am some superannuated 40-something wishing I was a hipster – despite what at least one friend definitely thought when he read that first question. I do love film, for many reasons, but the most modern digital cameras surpass it in most ways, at least for an Antarctica visit. So why do it?
July 2006, Beijing: The legendary hard seat on Chinese trains.
We’d waited and waited and tried and tried but just couldn’t get sleeper tickets. How bad could the “hard seat” be? I mean, it has a cushion, right? The trip’s only 23 hours – no worse than flying from Sydney to London. As is so often the case, here was another great example of “famous last words”.
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“Good morning, everyone. Good morning!”
Her Canadian voice was my favourite wake-up call, piped into our room each morning usually pretty early. The gruff Russian guides never seemed to do this; this was probably to the benefit of all aboard. Everyone wants to avoid waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but in Soviet Russia, wrong side of bed wakes you. So, no Russians. Sometimes it was the up-beat young American guy and one time, the three guides named Sarah scared us all by doing a freaky trio. But the Canadian was my favourite, her tone always perfectly setting the scene for another great day.
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We raced across the high desert in the morning sun. The salt flats were far behind but the scenery here was almost as bold and extreme: bright blue sky, dry desert, and high volcanos.
Apart from sand and rock and drug smugglers, there were plenty of llamas, vicunas and even flamingos…
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Dolphin watching is really cool – when you’re looking for dolphins. But when you go whale watching, you’re really after something bigger. You know, like a whale. These guys had a great guarantee – see a whale or your money back*. Being (back then, in 2005) smart lawyers, we checked the small print under that asterisk. “Whales includes dolphins”. Hmmm. Well, we’re here now, we thought. It’s the last day of the season. Maybe we’ll get lucky.
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August 2005. We’d left government office jobs in search of adventure. How did we end up back in government office jobs? After a few months doing that in London, we remembered why we’d left Australia and what we wanted. So on August 12th 2005, after some serious decisions, we took the train to Stansted and embarked on the journey that would ultimately deliver us to Beijing in February 2006. But that was still some way off. Our first stop: Iceland.
We soon discovered it was lucky we’d brought camping equipment and a whisperlite stove. Two burgers and fries at a rustic burger hut on the Reykjavik docks set us back over $60. Remember the days before the GFC wiped out Iceland’s banking sector and demolished its currency? We do. They were expensive! But it was a great place to travel. Read on to find out why.
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I learned a few things about birdwatching on the Faroe Islands. First, it’s pretty cool. Second, you don’t need an enormous lens to get some nice photos. I also discovered I can actually go on a boat without instantly getting seasick.
But what was really awesome about this leg of our Faroes trip was the dizzying sea cliffs at Vestmanna – the Vestmannabjørgini. (No, I have no idea how to pronounce that). Hundreds of meters of black volcanic sea cliffs, speckled green with outlandish tufts of bright turf, itself munched on by even more outlandishly surefooted sheep. Though we were late in the season, still scores of seabirds swooped and swirled around the cliffs, our boat, and us. Add a salty fresh sea breeze off the North Atlantic and one of the very few appearances of the sun, and the island of Streymoy gave us a few of our most memorable Faroes days.
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Last light. Last day of the trip, summer 2015. Despite the rain, it’s been a good one. So why was I running full speed away from the splendid view and back to the hotel? Because of something that happened ten years ago. Or, rather, didn’t. I saw a puffin.
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It’s a little known fact that Yon once lived in Japan, spoke Japanese fluently and was pretty damn good at Karate. I have certainly been glad of the precision she was taught, as it has saved me serious injuries on several occasions when she’s popped off a few show-off kicks (well, except that one time when she overcooked a fake punch and very nearly broke my nose, much to the amusement of the kids in a Bolivian bus station). She took me to Japan on our way to London in 2005. My first real memory is of us walking down a tiny, deserted lane at night, and poking our head into a small restaurant. Yon called out “hello” and a wooden panel snapped open. A little man, dressed all in white, with a matching white hat, yelled “Hai!” in the Japanese way of saying “Yes, at your service!” It was straight out of “Spirited Away“. I thought this was the coolest thing ever, and I was hooked.
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Summer 2014: Momentarily lost in the tiny village of Hemis Shupachan, I turned down a stone alley and bumped into an old local. He greeted me warmly and asked where I was from.
“Australia? Which city? Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra?”
“Wow, you know your cities. Have you been to Australia?”
“No! But Ricky Ponting is my friend!”
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