When Captain Cook was sailing past Queensland on the 17th of May 1770, he noticed a number of mountains reminded him of the glass furnaces in Yorkshire where he came from, so he named them the glasshouse mountains.Continue reading Glasshouse Mountains
I’m on a stop-over in Thailand to get my teeth fixed and take a peek at Laos as I had never been there before. In Australia it was a hundred quid to simply get a filling, in Thailand you can buy a small village for the same cash so here I am typing this, teeth fixed, in Bangkok waiting for the train to go to Vientiane in Laos.Continue reading Patpong, Nana plaza, dentist chairs and The Atlanta Hotel!
I arrived in Australia and had a little shindig with friends I know in Sydney. The hospitality of the Krasnowskis knows no limits, so Jon, Rob, Sean and Dai all had a great evening out topped off by attempts to play coherent 12 string guitar in Jon’s back garden. I needed that and felt refreshed enough to make the train journey to Bellingen the next day.Continue reading Australia
For a last wave at South America Valparaiso was a double edged sword, but certainly an interesting one. I loved the place but should have tucked myself in bed safely after dark, but the alternative certainly leads to an interesting life. Continue reading Santiago to New Zealand
Valparaiso is one of those places that defines a country. It is a loud mouth of a city, colourful, unapologetic, it has trade and a good climate that puts Santiago to shame, Continue reading Valparaiso
Valdivia is a pretty university town that was started up by German settlers. It has a civilised air to it, nice bars, traditions, great brewers! Yup, Continue reading Valdivia
The bus journey from Castro to Puerto Montt was a lovely journey. Green rolling hills, a ferry across the Canal de Chacao standing on deck with spray in the face from a wind flecked sea. Continue reading Puerto Montt
I had a weeks work to do in Castro so I found a neat little house to stay in with good Internet at the Hospidaje Familiar under the watchful eye of Orfilia and buckled down.
Castro was a lovely place to spend the week, brightly coloured houses gripping the side of a steep slope leading down to the sea, one of the last enclaves of the Spanish in South America. My hospidaje was a funny old place, it was above one of this bars where scantily clad women served beers to drunk sailors up until 11pm sharp when it would close it’s doors. The noise would be quite loud upstairs but I didn’t mind, it had character.
The early morning bus ride with a hangover, dealing with customs, gorgeous mountains, back to Chile. I love the idea of stitching my way back and forth across such a grandiose mountain range, as if it were a playground ride, something to skip over, surf down. This time to the rafting mecca of Futaleufu.
Continue reading Futaleufu
Esquel, supposedly Welsh as are some of the villages around the area. I stopped by for a cuppa in one of the ‘tea’ houses in Trevelin, just down the road.
Continue reading Esquel and Trevelyn