Australia - 21/05/11 to 21/07/11

Its no wonder the Aussies' favourite phrase is no worries mate (pronounced with stretched vowels and rising inflections of course). I mean,whatreally do they have to be worried about; they live in some of the worlds most beautiful coastal cities with stunning beaches, they live in a year round temperate climate where even in winter, it rarely gets below 15 degrees, there is hoards of great seafood on tap and the oh-my-god scenery is so dramatic and vast that, one may never need go abroad.

In 1788, when the first 19 convicts from England were sentenced to transportation to the Australian territory of New South Wales, six of them were actually so scared of this new found territory and what it may hold for them, that they campaigned vehemently against it. The fools won their right to stay in Blighty and face their original sentences of the death penalty, which, at the time was by means of being burned at the stake. Idiots! In 18th century England, even those caught stealing just the menial items such as bread and in one case a handkerchief, were sentenced to death, but to ease prison overcrowding the lucky few were transported here to a land of plenty and sunshine, a land in which they could form new and prosperous lives for themselves - I bet they couldn't believe their luck as their ship sailed into Australia's sun drenched harbour.

The Aborigines had been in Australia for more than 60,000 years before Captain James Cook planted the British flag at Botany Bay in 1780. After several skirmishes with the natives little did he know then, he had set the tone for a future migration of sun, gold and solitude seekers from all over the world, driving the aborigines from their homes and confining them to mere 2nd class citizens of their own country in the process. Even today the divide exists, but the race is on to slowly reintegrate them and undo the work of the previous, openly prejudice government.

The mass migration, namely from the perennial breeders of China and Malaysia is still very evident today with 1 in 4 'Sydneysiders' having been born outside of Australia.

Arriving in Sydney from five gruellingly spectacular months in Asia was like arriving to home to western pleasures. Awaiting our arrival at Sydney airport, albeit without any sign of a notable welcoming banner, were our Ketterin'/Corby compadres; Brendan 'trash eating' McGovern and Lucy 'feeder/soon to be McGovern' Haddon. After much hugging, air kissing and with our vanity preening itself in one anothers welcoming flattery, we headed straight for our temporary abode; a plush pad at swanky Darling Point, where even just the merest of glances out the window at neighbouring Rushcutters Bay park, was enough to guilt-trip even Micki and I to follow the masses and start working out. After Lucy had fed and watered our malnourished frames we made a beeline to the top deck of the Glenmore pub in The Rocks district for a day of iconic views of the Opera house sails and more aptly to hit the bottle several times, catching up on the fruits and labour of theirs and our, temporary migration.

Whilst Brendan and Lucy went out to work, namely to earn ours and their own crust, Micki and I, who are now seasoned culture vultures hit some of Sydney's inescapable sights, such as the monumentally iconic Harbour Bridge - aka the Iron lung due to its assistance in the Great Depression, The Rocks district - famed for housing the cities original sleaze joints but now an upmarket historical area, picnicked in Hyde Park - being overlooked by the soaring skyline, papped our way round Circular Quay - world famous for the site of Australia's most celebrated landmark; the Opera House and finally, stomped our way round Darling Harbour and Cockle bay which, is awash with elitist yachts, great restaurants, uber-cool bars and even the world's largest cinema screen.

With a population of just 22 million people in a country that is the size Europe combined, you can see why people still come to seek solitude and space. They say, if your house in Australia hasn't got a sea view then its not worth a cent, which actually puts force behind why the fact that nearly 80% of the total population reside by its stunning coastal waters.

It was a busy week for two other notable reasons also. My folks were jettisoning themselves to Sydney via Singapore for 10 whole days, whilst later week I was reaching the notorious landmark age of dirty 30. After 5 whole months I was so chuffed to see them. It was an emotional reunion and after a little catch-up TLC we played host by route-marching them around Sydney's finest.

As always, turning the supposedly big 3-0 felt all the same as every other birthday, that said, later that day Micki did catch me displaying a freakishly elderly walking style, i.e. hands clasped behind my back whilst strolling ever so leisurely. It turned out to be a 30th to remember however, as Micki fulfilled a lifelong ambition of mine and Jim'll fixed it for me to cage dive with Great White sharks at Port Lincoln - yea she's a keeper. My folks had also typically ordered in bluebird skies for the day so we jumped on the ferry, passing through Sydney's iconic harbour for a day of lazing in the sun at Manly beach. It was soon fast approaching 4pm and almost time to hit the customary birthday Moet which, kindly came courtesy of our dutiful hosts - Legends. Keeping up our extravagant facade the six of us were booked in at the swanky Wildfire restaurant in circular quay that spectacularly overlooked an illuminated Opera House. An establishment we obviously popularised as Australia's own schooner-sized superstar, Kylie Minogue, was snapped there a week later. After a fab meal, pompous cocktails and the ubiquitous birthday cake (cheers mum), which was accompanied by a slightly askew rendition of happy birthday, we hit the town to thoroughly hurt and disgrace ourselves. The following day was a right-off and turning 30 suddenly became ever so real with the presence of a raging hangover that left me supine.

We were still very much on the tourist trail with my mum and dad and loving every minute of their company as it seemed like such a longtime ago we had holidayed like that together. The plan was to hit the infamous Blue mountains and soak up the awe inspiring views of thunderous waterfalls, deep canyons, crazy rock formations and sweeping forests that pull in hundreds of thousands of visitors a year and are just, amazingly, a mere 90 minutes from city central. The reality was though that we had arrived there on possibly Sydney's wettest, coldest and dankest day of the year. Wind and driving rain upended the brollies so we spent the majority of the day cafe hopping in the mountain towns of Katoomba and Leura. My dear mum who was sporting her 14 year old pac mac with the utmost poise wasn't fazed at all and as she gazed out at Echo point, in almost zero visibility, to try to glimpse one of Australia's most famous landmarks; the three sisters rock formation, she stated ''well, I have seen better''!. Not as we planned, but we'll still remember that day for its comedy value. Luckily, Micki and I had better luck a month later when we revisited during a more typical, sunny winters day. Take two saw us hike down through the forested canopy into the immensely pretty Wentworth falls and feast on the impressive spectacle of the three sisters at Echo point - all whilst being able to appreciate the reasoning behind the mountains namesake; water vapour evaporating giving way to views of vividly blue forested mountains.

So for my 30th, my legendary mum and dad had organised for us to fly north to Port Douglas for 4 days of Great Barrier Reef diving, lazing by the pool and general R&R at the swish Meridien resort. Staying in beautiful self contained apartments and with northern Australia's winter steadying itself at a cool 28 degrees for 5 days, we were quite content chilling by the pool and gorging ourselves on the local delicacies. Being just a 2 hour boat ride from the Great Barrier Reef was all the invitation we needed to don some scuba gear and dive amongst part of its 2000km length. Micki and I managed to get in 3 dives at Agincourt outer reef fraternising with the likes of gigantic Maori Wrasse, giant clams, reef sharks and after much searching, the world renowned clown fish (nemo). Mum and dad, not wanting to get too up close and personal, opted to top trump us by hitching a ride in a helicopter over the reef itself. Big timers!

After a few more days of sightseeing around the Rocks, undertaking the monumentally spectacular Bondi beach to Coogee beach walk, stomping over the harbour bridge, fine dining at Milsons Point and bartering at Paddys market it was soon time again to bid a sad farewell to my folks who luckily were flying back via 3 days in Hong Kong. We had been thoroughly spoilt and it was an awesome ten days that we will never forget.

With a few days to burn before our epic road trip to Port Lincoln we got on the walking trail again, heading to Watsons bay and Macquarie lighthouse which, sit at the mouth of Sydney's harbour for some epic views of the city and the Pacific ocean. Next was Camp Cove where Arthur Phillip arrived in 1788 with his first load of convicts before the glamourous Paddington suburbs where hundreds of beautifully restored Victorian houses jostle for space in its leafy streets.

My idea of good wine was pretty much based solely on two things; the design of the bottle's label and secondly, the price - A common, yet highly unsophisticated faux pas, apparently. Aiming to add some breadth and brevity to my repertoire of trite chit-chat, we thought it best to hit the famed Hunter Valley vineyards in search of our thirst (ouch) for knowledge. Or more aptly, to get totally battered on free wine. With Micki and I on a tight budget we dragged Lucy and Brendan down to our miserly level by sleeping in an 8 bed hostel dormitory in the town of Cessnock, right in the heart of wine country. With vineyard map in hand we hired mountain bikes for the day and with some of us looking rather more remedial than others in our ill-fitting helmets, we trundled off to exploit as many wineries as possible. We quaffed only the good-stuff and made all the right ''hmmmm'' noises through black stained teeth portraying interested gestures to keep our glasses positively brimming. In a little over 4 hours we had sampled our way through the full tasting menus at 5 vineyards with Lucy becoming a minor casualty after just the third winery. A full RTA it was not, but after a collision with an equally smashed Micki she still managed to stack it over the top of her handle bars on a busy dual carriageway. Happy days.

It was time to bid au-revoir to Sydney in the graffiti'd work-of-art that was our Wicked campervan for a monster 10 day road trip into the outback and beyond. A road trip that saw us eat up 4800km of some of the straightest, longest, most desolate, quietest and most dramatically magnificent highways in the world. Our destination was the Great White shark territory of Port Lincoln, some 1900km west of Sydney. Although, not wanting to skimp the country in our 2 months we thought to do it some justice by dropping in on the vineyards of Barossa Valley for some more guzzling and hit the differing cities of Adelaide and Melbourne - via the spectacular Great Ocean road. Sleeping in lay-by rest areas, showering in leisure centres, getting drunk for free in wineries, hitting the local library for free internet and scouring the local supermarkets for coupons you could say we really were 'living the dream', or, just being tight and taking the piss!

We passed through countless numbers of solitary outback towns with strange names such as Tailem Bend and Broken Hill that housed populations of just a handful and were literally hundreds of kilometres from anyone else. Managing to avoid the highly prized road kill targets of kangaroo's, possums, koala's, deer and field mice was a feat in itself, however, it was the infamous 40 tonne road trains hurtling at over 100mph and the resultant gravel storm that was the real danger on those outback roads.

Adelaide is edged by the quaint Adelaide hills and quite literally is, 'the city of churches' as one adorns nearly every street corner. Its nice enough for a short visit but anything longer might get your feet itching. Melbourne is more European than Australian, a real cafe culture and laid back city. The impressive 'love it or hate it' Federation Square gives a cosmopolitan atmosphere whilst the cobbled lanes, sprawling tram network and the Flinders street station give it an historical edge over Sydney.

For me however, that journey was all about the shark cage diving - something i'll be dining out on for years! Arriving in Port Lincoln the night prior we bedded down in the marina car park in anticipation of the 6:30am leave. Sadly leaving Micki at Port Lincoln, I set off for the fabled Great White shark territory of the Neptune Islands, about 2 hours south. It had been a propitious start with the appearance of a giant turtle, a migrating humpback whale and a pod of dolphins which, much to our awe, had playfully tailed the boat for the journeys entirety. When the boat finally dropped anchor in the tranquil waters of the neighbouring south Neptune island it finally became apparent why these islands were renowned hunting grounds for these prolific predators; resonating from across the water was the high pitched barks of their prey; 4000 New Zealand fur seals.

A bucket of blood and fish guts was hurled into the open water and within minutes a 15ft Great White was circling the boat. It was an immense sight, one i'll never forget. By the time James, our deckhand, had lassoed another set of gigantic tuna gills into the open water we had six hungry Great Whites round us. Donning wetsuit, goggles and weight belt I descended tentatively into the cage in a mood that had started with the utmost fear, before spiking on a jet of adrenalin as a Great White suddenly thrashed its enormous torso against the cold steel bars, driving me rearwards. The perfect predator, appearing one second, but gone the next. These 5m, 1000lb sharks were magnificently graceful in their movements yet, still displayed such an iconic savagery. The tuna bait on James' line had begun to sink directly in front of the cage and with one flick of its giant fin the deceptively agile shark turned towards it. James, sensing the sharks movements yanked the bait-line towards him and just for our pleasure, reeled it in directly toward the top of the cage, right above our heads. The shark, now solely in attack mode, and devoid of any other distraction, accelerated towards us. In what felt like a lengthened period of time it opened its jaws to expose a black hole and rails of jagged, blood stained teeth. Rolling its eyes back in classic pre-strike fashion it engulfed the bait in one bite, tearing the bait-line completely with one sidewards flick of its head. That was the first 5 minutes, thankfully the photo's do the rest of the time more justice than my prose. The whole experience was completely insane and by far the best thing I have ever done, a true once-in-a-lifetime ambition firmly achieved. Thanks Micki x

Our final few days in Sydney came down to hitting Surry Hills for a messy, but unforgettable farewell night out, sampling and savouring Lucy's culinary feasts and preparing our mental psyche for the next 5 months of slightly less luxurious travelling in New Zealand and South America. We absolutely loved our stay in Sydney for so many reasons, but we owe the majority of that to Brendan and Lucy for being just awesome friends and hosts. We owe you guys big time!

Next stop, New Zealand.