Wednesday 27 October 2010
Ahipara, Shipwreck Bay & Ninety-Mile Beach
Our first sight of ocean for a few days stops us in our tracks as we head further north. We are climbing and climbing twisting roads when suddenly Hokianga Harbour comes into view hundreds of feet below - and views across to wild and aquamarine Tasman Sea sees campervan make screeching halt for photocall. Can't stop long. We've a ferry to catch across harbour - a 15-minute journey - and then it's on to Ahipara, a tiny beach town which sits at the southern end of Ninety-Mile Beach. Nearby is superlative surfing beach backed by huge dunes called Shipwreck Bay, with some of the glassiest left-handers on the planet. Hey, we who hang out at Langland and Llangennith know our waves!
Next day, it's a trip to Ninety-Mile Beach. We skip the van on locals advice and take a coach trip to Cape Reinga, the furthest point north in NZ. Looking out from the lonely windswept lighthouse at the point where The Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean meet gives us an other-worldy feeling (sorry, but Land's End and The Lizard will never seem quite the same anymore).
Waves have been known to reach up to 10m high here on stormy days. Thankfully for our visit the weather is kind - but there is no escaping the sheer majesty of this place. At the very bottom of the cape is an 800-year-old pohutukawa tree, spiritually significant for Maoris as the place where souls depart from this life into the next.
Blown away by Cape Reinga - not literally, thankfully - it's time to get back on the old bus. On to Ninety-Mile Beach (and on it we mean). First, though, some dune tobogganing. Our coach takes us along a riverbed (the secret is not to stop or you will get stuck in the sand - no fun when the Tasman is coming in). Ahead are massive sand dunes - the climb up them once does for John (one toboggan down is enough). Chris, in fairness, tackles the summit three times and has some thrilling rides down dunes, though she returns to coach looking as if she has spent a week in the Sahara Desert. Empty those shoes, please.
Now for an epic return journey. Having taken first stage by road, it's back along the beach - 50-odd kilometres of it to our campsite. Yes, this beach is actually a designated highway. Dunes to the left of us, Tasman Sea to the right. Breathtakingly beautiful, but surreal also.
Luckily our coach driver knows what he is doing, which is more than can be said for some who have lost vehicles to the ocean. We saw a few cars which had been buried, just the tips of their roofs showing beneath the sand - sunken cars, not ships on this wildest of coasts.
Next day, it's a trip to Ninety-Mile Beach. We skip the van on locals advice and take a coach trip to Cape Reinga, the furthest point north in NZ. Looking out from the lonely windswept lighthouse at the point where The Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean meet gives us an other-worldy feeling (sorry, but Land's End and The Lizard will never seem quite the same anymore).
Waves have been known to reach up to 10m high here on stormy days. Thankfully for our visit the weather is kind - but there is no escaping the sheer majesty of this place. At the very bottom of the cape is an 800-year-old pohutukawa tree, spiritually significant for Maoris as the place where souls depart from this life into the next.
Blown away by Cape Reinga - not literally, thankfully - it's time to get back on the old bus. On to Ninety-Mile Beach (and on it we mean). First, though, some dune tobogganing. Our coach takes us along a riverbed (the secret is not to stop or you will get stuck in the sand - no fun when the Tasman is coming in). Ahead are massive sand dunes - the climb up them once does for John (one toboggan down is enough). Chris, in fairness, tackles the summit three times and has some thrilling rides down dunes, though she returns to coach looking as if she has spent a week in the Sahara Desert. Empty those shoes, please.
Now for an epic return journey. Having taken first stage by road, it's back along the beach - 50-odd kilometres of it to our campsite. Yes, this beach is actually a designated highway. Dunes to the left of us, Tasman Sea to the right. Breathtakingly beautiful, but surreal also.
Luckily our coach driver knows what he is doing, which is more than can be said for some who have lost vehicles to the ocean. We saw a few cars which had been buried, just the tips of their roofs showing beneath the sand - sunken cars, not ships on this wildest of coasts.
North Island
Helensville: Picked up campervan at airport - a new experience for us both and headed out of Auckland. A bit hairy at first, felt like driving a bus. This thing is big. Decided not to drive too far on first day - an hour just the job up to little village on West Coast. We are real novices at this campervaning lark, but meet NZ pair Steve and Ian and their wives and they put us right on a few basics (what to do with your waste for one - use the dump station!). Campground has thermal pools - outdoor one 32C, indoor 39.5C. Chilled out, but hot at same time, if you get our drift.
Waipou Forest. One of the highlights of North West Coast is this kauri tree forest. These trees are mighty indeed. One known as The God of the Forest, the other The Father of the Forest. 'God' has been around 2,000 years and is a pretty awe-inspiring sight. Also went on guided night-time nature walk in forest (John did this under protest, but secretly enjoyed it) and saw gloworms, Kauri snails (big, big, very big), large eels, possums and some very hairy and scary spiders. Elusive Kiwi, however, failed to make appearance.
On way to forest stopped at little roadside cafe. So good was the coffee that we left our rucksack, containing passports, money and air travel tickets, behind. Some 40 minutes away and several miles on, Chris realises what we have done. Luckily there is an into information centre close by. We call in - and they save day by calling cafe, who confirm bag is safe and sound. Phew! Close call and a lesson learned. On way back see road sign for Brynderwyn among more traditional Maori names. Can't possibly be a Welshman who named village, can it?
Waipou Forest. One of the highlights of North West Coast is this kauri tree forest. These trees are mighty indeed. One known as The God of the Forest, the other The Father of the Forest. 'God' has been around 2,000 years and is a pretty awe-inspiring sight. Also went on guided night-time nature walk in forest (John did this under protest, but secretly enjoyed it) and saw gloworms, Kauri snails (big, big, very big), large eels, possums and some very hairy and scary spiders. Elusive Kiwi, however, failed to make appearance.
On way to forest stopped at little roadside cafe. So good was the coffee that we left our rucksack, containing passports, money and air travel tickets, behind. Some 40 minutes away and several miles on, Chris realises what we have done. Luckily there is an into information centre close by. We call in - and they save day by calling cafe, who confirm bag is safe and sound. Phew! Close call and a lesson learned. On way back see road sign for Brynderwyn among more traditional Maori names. Can't possibly be a Welshman who named village, can it?
Auckland
Never did get around to seeing Eden Park, although Auckland were home to Otago in ITM Cup. Too much to see and too many bars to check out on city's waterfront. (If you are coming over for World Cup be ready to fork out big bucks for food and drink - cheap it ain't). Expensive it might be, but Auckland is a good looking place with two magnificent harbours filled with ships and boats of all descriptions and sizes. Not for nothing is it called the City of Sails. By the way NZ really is ready for the World Cup - honest. Look for picture on blog of one of the many adverts for rugby's biggest global event. Girl on left is hanging up Wales shirt. Let's hope our boys won't be hung out to dry.
New Zealand - North Island
Quick update - for those looking for Fiji narrative, please click on to 'Older Blogs.' Thanks, everyone.
Arrived in New Zealand to find that they are some way off getting their grounds in shape for the Rugby World Cup 2011. See pictures above! Shocked to find main stand at one club looking in need of a bit of repair and a lick of paint. Scratched our heads to find any hospitality tents or even a bar area for few sherberts, and the playing surface looked a tad dodgy too. Hope Auckland's Eden Park, which hosts the final, will be in better nick.
Never like this at Broadacre, or Parc Mawr. What will our boys make of playing on such pitches we don't know. Seems to us the Kiwis have got an advantage from the off, and how are mam and dad going to get tickets in such a cramped seating area, and they'll get wet when the roof leaks, as it's sure to do.
Not content with making us suffer an unfair advantage, the NZ papers are full of this Sonny Bill Williams fellow, who many Kiwis reckon is the best thing since sliced bread. Let's hope Ryan can get hold of this new 'fifth-eights' Canterbury wonder boy and stop him in his tracks. C'mon Wales.
Arrived in New Zealand to find that they are some way off getting their grounds in shape for the Rugby World Cup 2011. See pictures above! Shocked to find main stand at one club looking in need of a bit of repair and a lick of paint. Scratched our heads to find any hospitality tents or even a bar area for few sherberts, and the playing surface looked a tad dodgy too. Hope Auckland's Eden Park, which hosts the final, will be in better nick.
Never like this at Broadacre, or Parc Mawr. What will our boys make of playing on such pitches we don't know. Seems to us the Kiwis have got an advantage from the off, and how are mam and dad going to get tickets in such a cramped seating area, and they'll get wet when the roof leaks, as it's sure to do.
Not content with making us suffer an unfair advantage, the NZ papers are full of this Sonny Bill Williams fellow, who many Kiwis reckon is the best thing since sliced bread. Let's hope Ryan can get hold of this new 'fifth-eights' Canterbury wonder boy and stop him in his tracks. C'mon Wales.
Wednesday 20 October 2010
Fiji
Fiji - fabulous, friendly and fun, and it's the first time we've taken 3 flights from one place to get to another. It's a 10 hour-plus night flight from LA to Nadi on West Coast of the main island Viti Levu, but we're headed for Ovalau in Middle Fiji, so must board two more planes. The first takes us to the capital Suva on East Coast where we clamber onto a tiny eight-seater for our six-night stay in Levuka, Fiji's former capital.
There are spectacular aerial views of countless coral reefs amid aquamarine ocean on our 12-minute journey. After landing on narrow tarmac strip in field, we are met by taxi driver Moon who drives us 45 minutes on dirt track road to the old whaling outpost of Levuka - a timber-fronted town with a wealth of sea-faring history and one of the few places left in the South Pacific to have kept its original colonial buildings. It's main street fronts the sea, looming behind it are towering tropical green mountains.
We are staying at the Levuka Homestay and are met by owners John & Marilyn, a wonderful Aussie couple who fell in love with Fiji and its people years ago and decided to follow their dream by making their home here. After six days with them we felt not so much guests at their 'home from home' but friends, such was their warmth and friendliness. Their depth of knowledge of Fiji and its people gave us a real insight into the land and its culture and we left feeling we had experienced The Real Fiji.
Their multi-level homestay has four large rooms with terrace, with John & Marilyn, their four cats and parrot occupying the highest section. Their lovely staff - but more family really - include local ladies La and Matilda and gardener and Levuka expert Nox.
To call breakfast 'breakfast' is to do John & Marilyn a disservice - rather it is an event. Fresh fruit, cereal, toast, cheese and tomato, plus homemade relish, followed by freshly baked cakes and banana pancakes, with passion-fruit butter - and that's before the bacon and eggs arrive. Brekkie and conversation can take two hours. If you are feeling hungry before 7pm then there is something seriously wrong with you!
Breakfast is taken around a large table and there we're joined on the first couple of days by meidcal friends Catherine (England), Francois (France) and Katie (Canada), who are all currently working for a short spell at the hospital in Suva, and had come to Levuka to enjoy a long weekend.
Latterly, Sam and Polly join us at the table - two 27-year-olds free spirits who have quit top jobs in London to go travelling for a year. What a brave & great pair they are - these two have done more in their short time on Planet Earth than many who live to be 90. They kept us enthralled with tales of their previous adventures (one very hairy one in Malaysia in particular) and in stitches with some others (promise not to tell anyone, Sam!).
Okay, if breakfast was the real deal so were the 'sundowners' every evening on John and Marilyn's huge deck balcony overlooking the ocean - a few glasses of wine and more engaging conversation as we watched night fall over the gorgeous islands sprinkled out before us.
Eating and drinking aside, we did manage to get out and about a bit and see Levuka and a stunning island off it called Caqali (Fijians pronounce it Thungali). A 40-minute boat trip takes you to paradise - it's a tiny palmed-fringed island with a golden beach right around its perimeter which takes 15 minutes to walk around. Wildlife includes some stunning birds, while snorkelling in the warm-as-a-bath ocean around it takes you into a fantastic world of pink, orange, red and deep blue coral and fish quite literally every colour of the rainbow.
We bid Caqali farewell with a heavy heart, such was its beauty and promised we'd go back before we left. Two days later we were back - and glad we did despite the rain setting in this time around.
Time to bid Sydney-bound Sam and Polly farewell and spend a cracking last night with them. John takes the four of us to The Ovalau Club - 'Fiji's first gentleman's club' (what's a Welshman doing there then?) where local residents get together for a drink and a chinwag. It's an atmospheric white timber building, its bar sporting flags from all over the world (yes there is a Welsh one there) and old photographs. What a place it must have been in its old colonial heyday. A few beers later it's off to The Whale's Tale, whose friendly owners serve great fish and chips from their bamboo-thatched kitchen, and it's lots more laughs with Sam and Polly (keep in touch you two).
Only a couple more days left and those scrumptious breakfasts (diets in order in New Zealand) keep coming, but so too does the rain - no wonder Fiji is so green. Wales has seeemingly adopted Delilah as its unofficial rugby anthem, perhaps Fiji should follow suit with Green Green Grass Of Home. In fairness, though, many parts had not seen rain for months and months and the reservoirs were crying out for it. We must have brought a little of it with us from Wales, so feel we have done our bit!
Sadly our time here has come to an end, but thanks to John and Marilyn, La, Matilda, Nox, other new friends we have made, and all the smiling Fijians we have met along the way we leave with great memories of a truly special place. Keep smiling, and staying on Fiji Time.
There are spectacular aerial views of countless coral reefs amid aquamarine ocean on our 12-minute journey. After landing on narrow tarmac strip in field, we are met by taxi driver Moon who drives us 45 minutes on dirt track road to the old whaling outpost of Levuka - a timber-fronted town with a wealth of sea-faring history and one of the few places left in the South Pacific to have kept its original colonial buildings. It's main street fronts the sea, looming behind it are towering tropical green mountains.
We are staying at the Levuka Homestay and are met by owners John & Marilyn, a wonderful Aussie couple who fell in love with Fiji and its people years ago and decided to follow their dream by making their home here. After six days with them we felt not so much guests at their 'home from home' but friends, such was their warmth and friendliness. Their depth of knowledge of Fiji and its people gave us a real insight into the land and its culture and we left feeling we had experienced The Real Fiji.
Their multi-level homestay has four large rooms with terrace, with John & Marilyn, their four cats and parrot occupying the highest section. Their lovely staff - but more family really - include local ladies La and Matilda and gardener and Levuka expert Nox.
To call breakfast 'breakfast' is to do John & Marilyn a disservice - rather it is an event. Fresh fruit, cereal, toast, cheese and tomato, plus homemade relish, followed by freshly baked cakes and banana pancakes, with passion-fruit butter - and that's before the bacon and eggs arrive. Brekkie and conversation can take two hours. If you are feeling hungry before 7pm then there is something seriously wrong with you!
Breakfast is taken around a large table and there we're joined on the first couple of days by meidcal friends Catherine (England), Francois (France) and Katie (Canada), who are all currently working for a short spell at the hospital in Suva, and had come to Levuka to enjoy a long weekend.
Latterly, Sam and Polly join us at the table - two 27-year-olds free spirits who have quit top jobs in London to go travelling for a year. What a brave & great pair they are - these two have done more in their short time on Planet Earth than many who live to be 90. They kept us enthralled with tales of their previous adventures (one very hairy one in Malaysia in particular) and in stitches with some others (promise not to tell anyone, Sam!).
Okay, if breakfast was the real deal so were the 'sundowners' every evening on John and Marilyn's huge deck balcony overlooking the ocean - a few glasses of wine and more engaging conversation as we watched night fall over the gorgeous islands sprinkled out before us.
Eating and drinking aside, we did manage to get out and about a bit and see Levuka and a stunning island off it called Caqali (Fijians pronounce it Thungali). A 40-minute boat trip takes you to paradise - it's a tiny palmed-fringed island with a golden beach right around its perimeter which takes 15 minutes to walk around. Wildlife includes some stunning birds, while snorkelling in the warm-as-a-bath ocean around it takes you into a fantastic world of pink, orange, red and deep blue coral and fish quite literally every colour of the rainbow.
We bid Caqali farewell with a heavy heart, such was its beauty and promised we'd go back before we left. Two days later we were back - and glad we did despite the rain setting in this time around.
Time to bid Sydney-bound Sam and Polly farewell and spend a cracking last night with them. John takes the four of us to The Ovalau Club - 'Fiji's first gentleman's club' (what's a Welshman doing there then?) where local residents get together for a drink and a chinwag. It's an atmospheric white timber building, its bar sporting flags from all over the world (yes there is a Welsh one there) and old photographs. What a place it must have been in its old colonial heyday. A few beers later it's off to The Whale's Tale, whose friendly owners serve great fish and chips from their bamboo-thatched kitchen, and it's lots more laughs with Sam and Polly (keep in touch you two).
Only a couple more days left and those scrumptious breakfasts (diets in order in New Zealand) keep coming, but so too does the rain - no wonder Fiji is so green. Wales has seeemingly adopted Delilah as its unofficial rugby anthem, perhaps Fiji should follow suit with Green Green Grass Of Home. In fairness, though, many parts had not seen rain for months and months and the reservoirs were crying out for it. We must have brought a little of it with us from Wales, so feel we have done our bit!
Sadly our time here has come to an end, but thanks to John and Marilyn, La, Matilda, Nox, other new friends we have made, and all the smiling Fijians we have met along the way we leave with great memories of a truly special place. Keep smiling, and staying on Fiji Time.
Monday 18 October 2010
Sunday 17 October 2010
Saturday 16 October 2010
San Diego
Goodbye Tuscon after a hearty cooked brekkie with John & Susan and, suitably fortified, we are up for another long drive - the biggest since our 10-hour marathon from Lake Tahoe to Salt Lake City. It's back to California again on the final leg of our US tour - this time San Diego.
The drive is around a nine-hour one, starting out across the desert west of Tuscon, where we hug the Mexican border - for many miles we can see 'The Berlin-type Wall' the US authorities have constructed - before we reach halfway point at Yuma.
Our romantic image of the town was associated with the western movie 3.10 to Yuma and we imagined a small dusty 'cowboy' town. Instead we find it to be a huge sprawling metropolis, but it does have a famous (or rather infamous) State Prison. We don't hang around to visit! Onwards (and quite literally) upwards as we climb and climb, leaving behind the desert and driving into the lush and verdant hills above San Diego, crossing through a couple of border patrols on the way. No Mexicans in the boot, we are waved through.
We head for the La Jolla (pronounced Hoy-ah) - something we take a little while getting used to - area and decide to spend four nights here before heading north to Los Angeles to catch our plane for Fiji.
San Diego is known for its year-round balmy climate, but for once the weather decides not to play ball. It's cold and wet, which is a pity because the coastline - rocky with sandy coves (seals galore take up residence on them when dusk falls) - is attractive, but no matter it's a good day for a relax and planning ahead. David, our pal in Scottsdale, has recommended we eat at 'George's On The Cove'. The rain has cleared and we catch a glimpse of the sun going down over the Pacific from the restaurant's outdoor terrace. Good recommendation, David. The meal proves delicious, the view out to sea is spectacular and the patio heaters keep us nice and warm.
The following day we head off to downtown San Diego - and a 'hop on and off' trolley tour. We get a good feel of the place - the harbour with its historic old sailing ships, warships and submarines. Old Town, the Gaslamp area, 100-acre Balboa Park and the peninsula of Coronado, with its famous Hotel del Coronado. They say the beach here is the best in California. We don't agree. Perhaps it's because the sun isn't shining again. The hotel is pretty grand - it costs a packet to stay there - and we take a look around it, along with hundreds of other camera-snapping tourists. After a tiring 12-stop tour, we're happy to head back to our less posh hotel in La Jolla.
Just two more days left in America - there's no Swansea By The Sea, but there is a Cardiff By The Sea, so let's go see it. There's no Millennium Stadium or Old Arcade pub here, but there is a great beach called Swamis steeped in California surf culture. Some good rollers here for sure and plenty of beach boys riding the crest of a wave on their Surfing Safaris. On way back we stop to take a look at world-famous Torrey Pines golf course. Impressive, even better than Royal Ashleigh off Mumbles Road.
It's Thursday, Oct 7 - and time to say farwell to USA. We've done some 4,000-plus miles and enjoyed every minute of it. Can't say that, however, about final journey from San Diego to LA. The traffic on the freeway is horrendous - five lanes with cars and trucks coming from all directions and at breackneck speed. Driving around the US has been a pleasureable experience, but we can't say that about this particular stretch. Glad to get to airport where we return car - and wait for our 10-hour night flight to the South Pacific.
Farewell America, Fiji here we come.
The drive is around a nine-hour one, starting out across the desert west of Tuscon, where we hug the Mexican border - for many miles we can see 'The Berlin-type Wall' the US authorities have constructed - before we reach halfway point at Yuma.
Our romantic image of the town was associated with the western movie 3.10 to Yuma and we imagined a small dusty 'cowboy' town. Instead we find it to be a huge sprawling metropolis, but it does have a famous (or rather infamous) State Prison. We don't hang around to visit! Onwards (and quite literally) upwards as we climb and climb, leaving behind the desert and driving into the lush and verdant hills above San Diego, crossing through a couple of border patrols on the way. No Mexicans in the boot, we are waved through.
We head for the La Jolla (pronounced Hoy-ah) - something we take a little while getting used to - area and decide to spend four nights here before heading north to Los Angeles to catch our plane for Fiji.
San Diego is known for its year-round balmy climate, but for once the weather decides not to play ball. It's cold and wet, which is a pity because the coastline - rocky with sandy coves (seals galore take up residence on them when dusk falls) - is attractive, but no matter it's a good day for a relax and planning ahead. David, our pal in Scottsdale, has recommended we eat at 'George's On The Cove'. The rain has cleared and we catch a glimpse of the sun going down over the Pacific from the restaurant's outdoor terrace. Good recommendation, David. The meal proves delicious, the view out to sea is spectacular and the patio heaters keep us nice and warm.
The following day we head off to downtown San Diego - and a 'hop on and off' trolley tour. We get a good feel of the place - the harbour with its historic old sailing ships, warships and submarines. Old Town, the Gaslamp area, 100-acre Balboa Park and the peninsula of Coronado, with its famous Hotel del Coronado. They say the beach here is the best in California. We don't agree. Perhaps it's because the sun isn't shining again. The hotel is pretty grand - it costs a packet to stay there - and we take a look around it, along with hundreds of other camera-snapping tourists. After a tiring 12-stop tour, we're happy to head back to our less posh hotel in La Jolla.
Just two more days left in America - there's no Swansea By The Sea, but there is a Cardiff By The Sea, so let's go see it. There's no Millennium Stadium or Old Arcade pub here, but there is a great beach called Swamis steeped in California surf culture. Some good rollers here for sure and plenty of beach boys riding the crest of a wave on their Surfing Safaris. On way back we stop to take a look at world-famous Torrey Pines golf course. Impressive, even better than Royal Ashleigh off Mumbles Road.
It's Thursday, Oct 7 - and time to say farwell to USA. We've done some 4,000-plus miles and enjoyed every minute of it. Can't say that, however, about final journey from San Diego to LA. The traffic on the freeway is horrendous - five lanes with cars and trucks coming from all directions and at breackneck speed. Driving around the US has been a pleasureable experience, but we can't say that about this particular stretch. Glad to get to airport where we return car - and wait for our 10-hour night flight to the South Pacific.
Farewell America, Fiji here we come.
Wednesday 6 October 2010
Tuscon and Tombstone
Goodbye to old buddies in Scottsdale and hello to new ones in Tuscon - John and Susan Price, who we met through our mutual friend Reena in Swansea. We had never clapped eyes on this lovely couple before, but when they heard we were Tuscon-bound they insisted on putting us up - and we are so glad they did. Susan hails from Nebraska originally,while John is a passionate Welshman from Blaina - describing himself as a ''radical right-wing Valleys boy.''
Now we had never encountered one of those in Wales before never mind Southern Arizona, but whether 'left-wing' or 'right-wing' - or pink or blue for that matter - one thing is for sure he is a top bloke - opening his and Susan's home to total strangers. When we left three days later it wasn't goodbye to new friends, but adios to ones we felt we had known all our lives, such was their warmth, generosity and hospitality.
Their home is something special - it sits in the heart of the Tuscon desert (both front and back gardens are wild living desert). John regularly sees coyotes and bobcats passing through his backyard (had not seen any of those in Sketty recently), while lizards are commonplace. Another visitor is the venomous rattlesnake. John & Susan's 'garden' - it is actually part of the Sonoran Desert - is also home to a Joshua Tree, giant Saguaros (a cactus that can grow up to 30ft tall) and other cacti and plants of all descriptions.
We saw no snakes during our stay, but did get to see John turn out for his local soccer team (he's the same age as me but, unlike yours, slim and fit as a fiddle). Post-match, it was back to a bar called Nevada Smith for pitchers of beer (reminded me of my days playing for Mumbles Rangers when The White Rose was our first port of call after Saturday matches) and then on for some grub.
Next day the four of us head for Tombstone - home of the Gunfight At The OK Corral where Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday shot it out with the Clantons and McLaurys back in 1881. Watch re-enactment of legendary gun battle and then it's drinks and some food at The Crystal Palace and Big Nose Kate's Saloons before stopping off on return to Tuscon at Boothill Cemetery where OK Corral victims are buried.
A real fun afternoon - Tombstone hokey for sure, but there's plenty of entertainment - and the old town, which sits not far from Mexican border, does its tourism tricks well. And it was like having our own local guide along too - such is John's knowledge of American history. He knows a thing or three about the desert too, though freely admits to missing the green, green grass of home.
Back in Tuscon it's downtown to a favourite Mexican restaurant of John & Susan's - and a memorable evening, rounded off with a game of darts (told you John was passionate about Wales) in The Dragon's Den - John's 'home from home' adorned with Welsh flags that he and his sons built from scratch in their desert garden.
Early start next day - we are heading for San Diego on Californian coast - and a fond farewell to John & Susan. We promise to keep a warm welcome for them, if not in the 'Hillsides', then on the coast when they next 'come home' to Wales.
Now we had never encountered one of those in Wales before never mind Southern Arizona, but whether 'left-wing' or 'right-wing' - or pink or blue for that matter - one thing is for sure he is a top bloke - opening his and Susan's home to total strangers. When we left three days later it wasn't goodbye to new friends, but adios to ones we felt we had known all our lives, such was their warmth, generosity and hospitality.
Their home is something special - it sits in the heart of the Tuscon desert (both front and back gardens are wild living desert). John regularly sees coyotes and bobcats passing through his backyard (had not seen any of those in Sketty recently), while lizards are commonplace. Another visitor is the venomous rattlesnake. John & Susan's 'garden' - it is actually part of the Sonoran Desert - is also home to a Joshua Tree, giant Saguaros (a cactus that can grow up to 30ft tall) and other cacti and plants of all descriptions.
We saw no snakes during our stay, but did get to see John turn out for his local soccer team (he's the same age as me but, unlike yours, slim and fit as a fiddle). Post-match, it was back to a bar called Nevada Smith for pitchers of beer (reminded me of my days playing for Mumbles Rangers when The White Rose was our first port of call after Saturday matches) and then on for some grub.
Next day the four of us head for Tombstone - home of the Gunfight At The OK Corral where Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday shot it out with the Clantons and McLaurys back in 1881. Watch re-enactment of legendary gun battle and then it's drinks and some food at The Crystal Palace and Big Nose Kate's Saloons before stopping off on return to Tuscon at Boothill Cemetery where OK Corral victims are buried.
A real fun afternoon - Tombstone hokey for sure, but there's plenty of entertainment - and the old town, which sits not far from Mexican border, does its tourism tricks well. And it was like having our own local guide along too - such is John's knowledge of American history. He knows a thing or three about the desert too, though freely admits to missing the green, green grass of home.
Back in Tuscon it's downtown to a favourite Mexican restaurant of John & Susan's - and a memorable evening, rounded off with a game of darts (told you John was passionate about Wales) in The Dragon's Den - John's 'home from home' adorned with Welsh flags that he and his sons built from scratch in their desert garden.
Early start next day - we are heading for San Diego on Californian coast - and a fond farewell to John & Susan. We promise to keep a warm welcome for them, if not in the 'Hillsides', then on the coast when they next 'come home' to Wales.
Monday 4 October 2010
Hello to David & Gill & boys in Scottsdale
Despite David's very fine directions to his home in Scottsdale, nr Phoenix, we manage to get lost. Time out in Oak Creek and Jerome has cost us and we arrive as dusk approaches. But dusk here is a fleeting thing. Day turns to night at drop of a hat. No matter, a quick call to David on our new American cell phone and we are quickly reunited with our friends.
David, who hails from Mumbles (and let me tell you, he was no mean rugby player in his younger day) and Gill, originally from Cumbria, have moved out West after spending several happy years living on the East Coast in New Jersey.
Two weary travellers receive a great welcome from D & G and their boys Jamie and Alex at their lovely home. A superb meal (spectacular shrimps on the barbie), on their spacious patio overlooking swimming pool, washed down with a few cold ones for the boys and a couple of glasses of white wine for girls, enjoyed by all as well as catching up with the gossip.
Early start next day sees four of us - Jamie and Alex are sensibly having a lie-in - head for walk towards McDowell Mountain. It's blistering hot - it will top 105F - but we cool off with refreshing swim in fabulous outdoor community pool that David uses as part of his new keep fit regime. (Gotta say it fella, you are looking good after heart bypass surgery - and picture above not really representative of it!!). Lots of news to catch up on and it's lazy afternoon back on the patio and in and out of D & G's pool before an evening in downtown Scottsdale.
It's a lovely quaint tree-lined town - the architect Frank Lloyd Wright established Taliesin West here in the 30s - and the area boasts 175 golf courses (David is now very proficient and will be fancying his chances at taking over from Monty as next Ryder Cup captain for sure). Spend great night at Thai restaurant (and thanks Alex for being the cabbie for evening).
Another chill out day - what else can you do in this heat. It is now 107F, a record for September here. (A second record for the Walters - rainiest day in Vancouver for 100 years and now hottest Sept day in Phoenix area). Not another day around David's pool? Life getting tough!
Local chef and friend Dylan, supported by Jamie (the next Jamie Oliver we think) and Alex, prepare steak supper for our last night all together. David and I go out first for pre-dinner drinks (where was that Strongbow you promised me! Never mind, the Stella was top-notch). Gill and Chris happy to drink a mean G&T watching the sun going down on patio. Boys (J & D, the old ones, not the young 'uns) very good and come home on time.
More fabulous food, another fabulous night, fabulous stay, lots of laughs (try keeping that towel in place, David) and a fond farewell next day to our hosts. See you in Swansea next summer. Can't rain anymore than it did in Newport on first day of Ryder Cup, can it?
David, who hails from Mumbles (and let me tell you, he was no mean rugby player in his younger day) and Gill, originally from Cumbria, have moved out West after spending several happy years living on the East Coast in New Jersey.
Two weary travellers receive a great welcome from D & G and their boys Jamie and Alex at their lovely home. A superb meal (spectacular shrimps on the barbie), on their spacious patio overlooking swimming pool, washed down with a few cold ones for the boys and a couple of glasses of white wine for girls, enjoyed by all as well as catching up with the gossip.
Early start next day sees four of us - Jamie and Alex are sensibly having a lie-in - head for walk towards McDowell Mountain. It's blistering hot - it will top 105F - but we cool off with refreshing swim in fabulous outdoor community pool that David uses as part of his new keep fit regime. (Gotta say it fella, you are looking good after heart bypass surgery - and picture above not really representative of it!!). Lots of news to catch up on and it's lazy afternoon back on the patio and in and out of D & G's pool before an evening in downtown Scottsdale.
It's a lovely quaint tree-lined town - the architect Frank Lloyd Wright established Taliesin West here in the 30s - and the area boasts 175 golf courses (David is now very proficient and will be fancying his chances at taking over from Monty as next Ryder Cup captain for sure). Spend great night at Thai restaurant (and thanks Alex for being the cabbie for evening).
Another chill out day - what else can you do in this heat. It is now 107F, a record for September here. (A second record for the Walters - rainiest day in Vancouver for 100 years and now hottest Sept day in Phoenix area). Not another day around David's pool? Life getting tough!
Local chef and friend Dylan, supported by Jamie (the next Jamie Oliver we think) and Alex, prepare steak supper for our last night all together. David and I go out first for pre-dinner drinks (where was that Strongbow you promised me! Never mind, the Stella was top-notch). Gill and Chris happy to drink a mean G&T watching the sun going down on patio. Boys (J & D, the old ones, not the young 'uns) very good and come home on time.
More fabulous food, another fabulous night, fabulous stay, lots of laughs (try keeping that towel in place, David) and a fond farewell next day to our hosts. See you in Swansea next summer. Can't rain anymore than it did in Newport on first day of Ryder Cup, can it?
Sedona and Jerome
Time to head towards Phoenix (not By The Time We Get To Phoenix) to see our great friends David & Gill and their boys Jamie & Alex - they actually live in Scottsdale outside the huge metropolis - and we break the journey with overnight stop at Sedona, a lovely little town set among green forests and red rock canyons.
Next day take a trip out into surrounding countryside to area known as Crescent Moon Ranch where there is a picturesque ford across Oak Creek at Red Rock Crossing. Enjoy a picnic here under the shade of overhanging tree.
It's very different to Grand Canyon - softer, gentler, more wooded, but it's name is apt - the rock here is a remarkable deep red. Like Monument Valley, many westerns have been shot at Oak Creek, but area is not as well-known perhaps (we virtually have the place to ourselves) and take a cooling paddle in the river.
Refreshed, we head to Jerome, a former silver mining town perched high up on a bluff overlooking the valley back out towards Sedona and Oak Creek. Spectacular setting, it reminds us of parts of the Rhondda, but, of course, much drier and dustier. Silver mining began here in 1870s and discovery of copper made it boom time there during First World War. However by early 60s Jerome was virtually a ghost town, though today it is enjoying a revival thanks to art galleries, native jewellery stores and, subsequently, tourism.
We pop into one store and talk to Elin, whose family we discover hails from Cross Hands and Pontarddulais. She is Welsh-speaking and a member of the Welsh Historical Society here in this corner of US. America seems so huge to us, but this is a 'world's a small place' experience.
Jerome to us becomes a little corner of Wales in Arizona.
Next day take a trip out into surrounding countryside to area known as Crescent Moon Ranch where there is a picturesque ford across Oak Creek at Red Rock Crossing. Enjoy a picnic here under the shade of overhanging tree.
It's very different to Grand Canyon - softer, gentler, more wooded, but it's name is apt - the rock here is a remarkable deep red. Like Monument Valley, many westerns have been shot at Oak Creek, but area is not as well-known perhaps (we virtually have the place to ourselves) and take a cooling paddle in the river.
Refreshed, we head to Jerome, a former silver mining town perched high up on a bluff overlooking the valley back out towards Sedona and Oak Creek. Spectacular setting, it reminds us of parts of the Rhondda, but, of course, much drier and dustier. Silver mining began here in 1870s and discovery of copper made it boom time there during First World War. However by early 60s Jerome was virtually a ghost town, though today it is enjoying a revival thanks to art galleries, native jewellery stores and, subsequently, tourism.
We pop into one store and talk to Elin, whose family we discover hails from Cross Hands and Pontarddulais. She is Welsh-speaking and a member of the Welsh Historical Society here in this corner of US. America seems so huge to us, but this is a 'world's a small place' experience.
Jerome to us becomes a little corner of Wales in Arizona.
Grand Canyon
Here at last to see a big hole in the ground called the Grand Canyon. Seriously, nothing you read or hear about it from others can quite prepare you for the first time you clap your eyes on one of the seven natural wonders of the world.
Aaaaaawesome sums it up - 277 miles long, some 10 miles wide on average and reaching depths of up to 8,000ft at some points, and the Colorado River, which has some of the greatest rapids of any river in the world, just a snaking greeny-brown speck below.
One of Chris's lifelong ambitions has been to see the sun rise and set over GC (who am I to deny her?). Never mind being up at tbe crack of dawn, she gets herself and a bleary-eyed moi semi-awake at 4.15am to see not only the sun rise, but dawn break - and even I (not one of the world's greatest early-risers, as many who know me would agree) admit to being knocked out by the incredible canvas laid out in front of me.
Some 12 hours later we are back at the same spot - Yavapi Point - for a breathtaking view of the sun going down and the ever-shifting patterns and colours of the canyon - from brilliant white to green and orange, crimson red and deep purple.
We stay on the South Rim in timber lodge for a couple of days and do a fair bit of walking, trying to do justice to this remarkable landscape - one of the Southwest's - and the world's -most instantly recognisable and iconic places. This is beauty on the grandest scale imaginable - standing you feel at the very edge of the world, particulary so as you gaze down on eagles and condors flying below, as well as above, you. Truly magical and life-enriching.
Aaaaaawesome sums it up - 277 miles long, some 10 miles wide on average and reaching depths of up to 8,000ft at some points, and the Colorado River, which has some of the greatest rapids of any river in the world, just a snaking greeny-brown speck below.
One of Chris's lifelong ambitions has been to see the sun rise and set over GC (who am I to deny her?). Never mind being up at tbe crack of dawn, she gets herself and a bleary-eyed moi semi-awake at 4.15am to see not only the sun rise, but dawn break - and even I (not one of the world's greatest early-risers, as many who know me would agree) admit to being knocked out by the incredible canvas laid out in front of me.
Some 12 hours later we are back at the same spot - Yavapi Point - for a breathtaking view of the sun going down and the ever-shifting patterns and colours of the canyon - from brilliant white to green and orange, crimson red and deep purple.
We stay on the South Rim in timber lodge for a couple of days and do a fair bit of walking, trying to do justice to this remarkable landscape - one of the Southwest's - and the world's -most instantly recognisable and iconic places. This is beauty on the grandest scale imaginable - standing you feel at the very edge of the world, particulary so as you gaze down on eagles and condors flying below, as well as above, you. Truly magical and life-enriching.
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