Epilogue & Colophon

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring 

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

-TS Eliot

This time I was prepared. Landing in Fiji felt very familiar, yet it's been 3 weeks since I was here. In customs, the men in their flowery shirts serenaded the new arrivals with their guitar and ukelele, just like I had heard several times in my visit to Nadi some weeks ago. I was ready for the soft-spokenness of the people with their thick accents. I was ready for them to gently hassle me as I walked through duty free. I was ready for the kids and teens to be joksters, slightly rambunctious. I was ready to not be able to understand what anyone was saying.

With just seven hours in Fiji and nowhere to drop my bags, however, I decided to stay in the airport. I guess this had the advantage of protecting my NZ chocolate from Nadi's 32C heat but no more exploring for me this trip.

This trip has been unbelievable. Looking back at the last few weeks, it's certainly been the trip of a lifetime. 

From a naturalist standpoint, I've swam with sharks and seen high peaks. I've hung out with penguins and watched mountains cry into the sea. From the bush to the beach there have been mammals, birds, and reptiles to marvel at. I've smelled sweet eucalyptus after the fall of rain, felt the heat of the summer sun, and scooped snow out of my boots.

Culturally there was a lot to take in too. I got only a tiny taste of Fijian Time, not to mention the scant glimpse of Maori and aboriginal tradition. I pondered whether post-colonial New Zealand and Australia are more British or American.

Central to this trip's plot has also been gaining the opportunity to reconnect with my friends. If one can believe it, about a quarter of my life has passed since I saw them last. Reconnecting was so good - we've all been shaped by work and life experiences and have much to reflect on. I hope it's not another decade before we cross paths again.

As for those life experiences, I was struck by a small exhibit at the State Library of Victoria, which showed some artifacts from Covid. An embroidered mask. A display of pavement dots for indicating social distancing. A handmade wellness kit from one friend to another. Australia (Melbourne especially) had extraordinarily strict isolation measures - how could anyone know how to handle it? Well, we all handled it together, apart. It's interesting upon reflection that people in Melbourne were prevented from seeing their next door neighbors, and yet I, living in New Jersey, felt great connection to the experiences of the people here. Everyone across the globe was alone, together. My friends went through it - and so did we in the States.

The thing is, you never know what will happen in life. When will we have another Covid-19 or other society-altering event? The people we meet and things we learn must never be taken for granted. On this trip, I've been so grateful for Granola. Grateful for the time we had together in Oxford and grateful for keeping the friendship going. Grateful for the strengths each of us brings to the group and for the fun of road tripping together. Hopefully next time I'll see them in the States, but who knows! Maybe I'll have to make a repeat trip to the antipodes before too long (quite a few people were encouraging me to do so)!

***

Sometime this trip, I surpassed 100 "career" blog posts. What started in 2008 as a means of keeping connected to family from my Vienna Study Abroad has turned into a life project. I don't get to travel as much as I used to as a student, but hopefully these ramblings provide others with amusement and introspection alike.

Most blog posts take two to three hours to write. Often, I write them at day's end when everyone else has gone to sleep and I am left to battle off my own sleep. Unfortunately, many are stream-of-consciousness ramblings: the main goal is to get thoughts on paper. But I do tend to keep a list of activities on my phone as I go, in order to help me remember some of the finer details. Sometimes I can't get to the blog until a full week after the events take place. This leads to vagueries and omitted details, even with my phone notes.

I confess, I often struggle with finding the balance between "advancing the plot" and relaying interesting side-stories. Part of the goal of the blog for me is to capture everything I saw and did, but I think the little observations and stories are what give life to each trip. I hope to avoid letting the posts drag, but I'm not a writer, so colorful, nuanced, and concise prose isn't my forte.

I also acknowledge that the blog posts are poorly researched. I snag details from wherever I can get them (tour guides, museums, and random people), but I rarely have the chance to fact-check or fill out the gaps in my understanding. Sometimes I do consult Google and Wikipedia but most of the time the dates and data should be taken with a hefty pinch of salt. Also make unit conversions on the fly by estimation, for simplicity.

All this is to say thank you for reading! I'm sure if (when) I read back through my blog one day, I'll find these posts to be excruciatingly poorly researched and written, confusing, and jarring in their prose... and yet I've left you to sift through that mess. It's not easy being a reader, sorry I'm not paying you enough!

But still, these journeys and adventures have been a great privilege. I'm thankful that through the technology of this blog, I've been able to share it with you in (kind of) real time. I hope you've found the posts fun and funny, enlighting, engaging, and of course interesting. And, of course, I hope you'll continue on this journey with me for the next 100 blog posts.

For even though I am saving my precious chocolate from today's blazing sun, you can be sure I have not ceased my exploration yet.

Big City Sydney

Beware! I have lots of flight time to blog. Get ready for rapidfire :-) Make sure you read in both directions if you want to make sure you see everything.

Flying from Melbourne to Sydney was highly uneventful. I churned out a blog and ate Quantas's complementary beef pies. With wine. Win.

What was really interesting, however, was flying domestically in Australia. When I arrived at Melbourne airport - they recommend only arriving an hour before you fly - I walked up to the kiosk. I barely looked at it and it spat out my bag tag (ok, this is an exaggeration; typed in my name and destination only). No endless screens about fireworks and crossbows. No haggling over weight limits. Just "here's your bag tag".

Fun fact, did you know that when flying domestically in Australia, there's no liquid limit? Feel free to bring your liter of water. Or ketchup. Or sunscreen. 

At security, you don't take anything out of your bags. Nor do you remove your shoes. Step on up.

And then Quantas gave me two pies and a glass of wine. On an 80 minute flight. 

I don't know if you can tell, but I was thoroughly impressed. In fact, stay tuned to the next blog for a summary of all 8 of my flights, the perks and annoyances.

But now - we have a lot of Sydney to get through.

If you've ever taken Paris's 6 train - the sea green one - from Orly to the 16th Arrondissement, you'll know that the train chugs along in the dark until it surprisingly emerges right next to the Eiffel Tower, larger than life.

Well in Sydney, you should take the train into the city after dark - much like in Paris. In so doing, you'll discover that the train is hidden underground until it emerges suddenly onto an elevated track at Circular Quay. And there, immediately on the right - much like in Paris - the spectacle of Sydney Harbour is lit up in splendour. The Sydney Harbour Bridge ahead on the right and the magnificent Opera House just behind. Like Paris, to say it's a spectacular welcome is an understatement!

Consider the layout of Circular Quay, as this will be important for the entire blog. The Quay is a bustling ferry terminal - no, I mean really bustling. The train you took to Circular Quay comes in parallel to the waterfront, steps away from the 6 wharves that service countless New South Wales ferries, coming and going by the minute. Standing at the foot of the train escallator and facing the wharves, you look out to the right. Beyond Wharf 1, a long promenade with restaurants, bars, and shops juts out into the harbour. At its end is, of course, the Opera House. One can walk along the water all the way around the Opera, gaining spectacular views of the water.

Looking to the left, past Wharf 6, the land also extends out a really really long way. Immediately along the waterfront is a cruise terminal. Each day a new ship arrived at sunrise and left just after sunset, a grand sight in the Harbour, moving amongst the ferries like a lumbering rhino amongst scurrying field mice. Behind the cruise terminal, the land rises up to a promentory. Old buildings line the steep slope, an area known as the Rocks. At the top of the Rocks, the Sydney Harbour bridge begins its grand arc across the Harbour. Beyond the bridge: the Parramatta River. Beyond the Opera: the River disappears around a couple corners, where it empties into the Pacific.

For this weekend, I was staying across the river in an Airbnb on McMahon Point. So, having come off the train, I switched to a ferry and off we went. Only 30 minutes in Sydney and I already had the best views of Australia's two most iconic structures. The ferry crossed the river paralleling the bridge. Slipping under the bridge along the north embankment, we stopped at an old fashioned fun park: Luna Park. As with many such parks, the park entrance was a giant grinning face, through which you would walk into the mouth. All lit up in blinking lights and popular for the weekend.

But I stayed on the ferry, which moved a few hundred yards up river to McMahon Point. I and a bunch of others got off on dock packed with fishers. Although weighed down by my bags, I couldn't help but to turn around and stand agog at the view: the glowing Opera House, perfectly framed below the deck of the Harbour Bridge... dozens of skyscrapers just off to the right twinkled and glowed as a perfect backdrop. My Airbnb was a couple hundred yards along a riverside park with the same great views of the city.

By this time it was after 22:00. I crashed.

Stan's two-day leadership thing had finished on Thursday, but he decided to stick around and see the city with me. So we arranged to meet up at a cafe Saturday morning. Coming out of the Airbnb, the air was thick with humidity and wildfire - "bushfire" smoke. It was going to be 38 C (100 F) and humid; this was compounded by an overnight breeze that made the distant bushfire settle its smoke through the region.

The perfect day for a hike. Right?

So I hopped on a bus heading away from the river and the city and I met Stan at the Brewmance cafe in North Sydney. Known for tasty food and awesome coffee art, it was also conveniently located for a bus we needed to take to our hike. Stan had superb french toast while I had a Bulgogi breakfast wrap. Because tasty Korean BBQ for breakfast sounded like a win (and it was). 

After taking a second bus (you will see that Sydney has an amazing public transit network), we found ourselves at the Spit bridge, ready to walk around 10km (6mi) along the coast to a beach area called Manly. This popular coastal walk is supposedly a must for visitors so I was excited to see what it was all about. The walk wove in and out of numerous little inlets off of Fig Tree Cove (which is separate from the Parramatta River). It was such a hazy and humid day that it was kind of a brutal walk. What few breezes we could get were treasured. All along the way, people were out in the water, which was a transparent blue-green that played nicely amongst flat but eroded, orange rocks. 

I would learn that Sydney area is very much a beach area, much like Laguna Beach or other parts of Southern California. Short but steep cliffs perch above the water everywhere. Nonetheless, homes - like the trees - cling to all of the available surfaces, competing with each other for real estate. The water here is the common ground: the cove plays host to sailboats, small motor boats, and plenty of swimmers. In the woods where we walked, we saw massive lizards; out on the rocks, the sunbathers lounged like lizards in the sun.

At first I was unimpressed with the walk; just hot. But as we continued, the beauty of the place grew on me. Close to Spit Bridge, the water had been a bit grungy, but walking towards the outlet of the cove, the forest, rocks, and water were lovely, if not idyllic. A couple beachfronts were packed with people and these also revealed a few spectacular houses there on the spit. We stopped for iced coffee (with ice cream) at a dock bar. Continuing, we came across a few bush turkeys foraging amongst the undergrowth. These, along with the lizards, were good fun. 

At some point the trail moved up away from the water and we emerged on top of a wide head. Athletic fields had been installed here, so the lack of trees meant that we totally baked. Leaving the fields, the trail descended slowly through a burnt out area where we still had no cover. And we still baked.

Thankfully we got back to the water, which we followed for the rest of the walk. By the time we got to Manly, we had enjoyed the lovely walk. But unlike literally everyone else - in swimsuits in the water - we were soaked solely with sweat.

Without looking around Manly, we hopped on the "fast ferry" to go back to Sydney. The breeze was a great break from the pounding heat - enough that we decided to keep walking from Circular Quay. For the city portion of the adventure, we walked the perimeter of the Opera house. On the back side of the Opera is Sydney's Royal Botanical Garden, which we criss-crossed, admiring the views, the flora, and the countless bin chickens. From there we walked into the interior of the city, going through Hyde Park and Chinatown (stopping for a BLT) before getting to Darling Harbour. It was only 15:00.

Darling Harbour is an awesome area. It's a tiny cove backing on an entertainment area, including the ICC convention center. This area was mobbed with cheerleaders, as there was some large cheer competition happening. As we approached the cove, we noticed that a crowd had gathered - we were minutes away from a Christmas-themed jetpack demo! To all your favorite Mariah Carey and Michael Buble hits, three elves wearing hydro jetpacks did stunts in the cove while hyping the crowd. An elf on a water ski did stunts while clinging to the back of a speedboat. Finally Santa went around wearing a Hawaiian shirt and waved at everyone. Warm weather Christmas. Weird.

Stan and I kept walking. He seemed to know the architectural/structural engineering background of most of the buildings in Sydney, so I heard all the backstories. The angst, the issues, and ultimately the successes. We came to a brand new fishmarket with a huge and impressive timber glulam canopy. It was super impressive in its scale, but unfortunately it hadn't opened yet so we couldn't go in. So we hit a pub (The Lord Wolseley Inn) to cool down. Again.

After circling back around to Darling Harbour we had some gyozas and perched ourselves up on a bridge over the cove. A brief spate of rain and an uptick in wind cooled the air dramatically. After sunset, we were perfectly positioned for a repeat of the jetpacks (with roman candles!) and finally an awesome fireworks show. I dropped Stan at the bus and went for a Christmas market wander. At long last I caught the ferry back across the Harbour, went into my Airbnb, and crashed. My total damage? 15 miles.

THE NEXT MORNING I was up with the chickens. BRIDGE DAY! I caught the first ferry across (technically to the Barangaroo dock) and walked up into the Rocks to BridgeClimb Sydney. BridgeClimb opened in 1998 and has allowed people to climb the Harbour Bridge ever since. As a structural engineer, this was right up my alley. 

Since I had booked this well-before Stan knew he'd be in town, I did this alone. I arrived around 9:30 and after a briefing, my group of 8 started its prep. Unlike Melbourne airport, security here was super strict. Nothing loose could be taken on the bridge. No phones, no earrings, no wristbands, no wallets, nothing. We were all breathalyzed to make sure we hadn't been drinking. We all had to wear fantastic space-age blue and grey jumpsuits. We were given various other items: a hat, climbing harness with come-along, pack with built-in rain jacket, a water bottle that had been tethered to a holster, a lanyard for attaching glasses, and a headset with radio. Literally everything was clipped onto our harnesses. Having left behind everything but glasses in a locker, we still had to go through a metal detector. I set it off. Goodness knows with what.

Feeling like a space shuttle crew, we were ready to go. We walked through a stone portal high above the Rocks and slid our come-alongs onto a braided steel cable. For the next 3 hours, we'd be attached at the hip.

The portal door exited to a catwalk below the deck of the bridge. Look at a photo of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. At its center you have the two massive arches that support the roadway via suspension struts. on the sides of the arches are massive stone pylons that frame the channel. Outside the pylons, there is what we call approach bridge - many bridges have one or more approach spans leading up to the main span. It's easy to miss these, but they're often huge in their own right.

In this case, there were five or six approach spans maybe 20-30 m (60-90 ft) high over the pedestrian area. The catwalk was tucked up under the deck, but still ran through what we call K-frame or V-frame structure. As we pushed along our come-alongs, our guide started introducing us to the bridge and envrionment. This lasted for the first few hundred feet.

When we reached the stone pylon, I noticed that the center area under the road was hollow. We climbed a couple flights of stairs to bring us closer to (but still under) the road deck. Going around the edge of the right pylon, we were now technically in the main span. 

Look closely at that image of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and you'll notice that the top chord of the truss doesn't touch the pylon. Instead, a vertical king post connects the top chord to the bottom chord. Thus, literally all of the work of resisting the thrust of the bridge is being done by a single pin where the bottom chord meets the base of the pylon.

So the pylons are just for show: a depression-era extravagance to boost the spirits of Australians.

The bridge was completed in 1932 after eight years of construction. It originally carried six lanes of traffic, two rail lines, and two tram lines. Much later, the tram lines were replaced by two additional traffic lanes. While the idea for the crossing had gone back well into the 19th century, it was only in the 20th century that the technology was capable of constructing it. Remember, the Brooklyn Bridge was the longest bridge in the world when it was completed in the early 1880s. The George Washington Bridge and Golden Gate Bridge were completed in the 1930s as well. So with those suspension bridges, this truss bridge was right at home.

The way the bridge was constructed was fascinating. They started the construction from each end of the arch and worked upward toward the middle. A crane followed the top chord of the bridge, lifting components into place. The south leg of the arch was a few weeks ahead of the north leg. This allowed the builder to use steel ropes attached to the leading edges to fine tune the arch alignment as they went.

Returning to the king posts - the tops of the king posts, where they meet the top chord, were originally anchored back into the rock. This prevented the arches from collapsing into the harbor during construction until the two sides met in the middle. Then those king post anchors were removed. The deck and pylons were constructed last. Since I was curious, I asked: today one of the pylons has a control tower with CCTV. One has a museum, and two have ventilation equipment for exhausting the much newer Sydney Harbour Tunnel.

Leaving the pylon behind us, we clambered along the catwalk amongst the framing. The catwalk is on the outside of the fascia beam, meaning we had spectacular views of the Opera House, Circular Quay, and the Harbour. When we reached the massive bottom chord, we took a crossover underneath the fascia girder and climbed some stairs through the deck onto the arch of the chord. For a moment, traffic was whizzing by on both sides in lanes 7 and 8.

We started to climb the lower arch of the truss. The steps were surprisingly shallow, so the walking was easy. Also, the chord was maybe 10 ft wide and the stair case only 3 ft wide - so there was absolutely no fear or risk of falling. All this time, we pushed our come-alongs next to us, painstakingly navigating them over joints and around corners in the cabling. As we climbed, the views became better and better. Our guide pointed out LED lighting and spotlights hat have already been installed for New Years Eve. We even passed two lighting technicians doing their thing.

Near the apex of the lower arch, we crossed a catwalk over the roadway and the trains to the west fascia of the structure. From there we went up a staircase of 83 stairs, bringing us to the top of the top chord of the bridge. At that point, we stood next to a huge flagpole bearing the flag of Australia's indigenous community. The guide had pointed out some sections of scaffolding along the way - the State is slowly painting the entire structure over seven years.

(The guide said this was for the bridge's upcoming 100th anniversary, but frankly I think it was good and necessary routine maintenance. There were quite a few areas where the existing paint had peeled back and the steel had started to rust. Overall the structure was, I thought, in quite good condition - but the fresh paint will significantly extend its service life and obviously make it look good too.)

We immediately started to descend on the top chord of the northwest corner, heading downward toward Luna Park. Even though we descended quite far from the apex to the top of the kingpost, a photo of the bridge will show that we were still very very high up. If you can imagine it, the bridge was built entirely by workers with no safety harnesses or PPE. They rode the cranes and did all the riveting at elevation. They estimate that of 6 million rivets in the structure, 5 million were installed at ground level and 1 million were installed while perched precariously over the water. The white hot rivets were tossed from a baker to a catcher with a pail of sand. The riveter then pounded them into place. Apparently they estimate that some 10,000 rivets were probably dropped into the harbor. I'm surprised it wasn't more - I wouldn't want to catch white hot rivets while balancing in the ripping wind so high up in the air!

Upon reaching the kingpost, we again crossed over the roadway. This catwalk is called George Street after one of the busiest roads in the old city - it was so nicknamed by the construction workers who used this as one of just a couple ways to cross from one fascia to the other. Looking along the roadway, you could see the gently sloping arch of the road, which was extremely busy with all forms of traffic.

Now at the northeast kingpost, we began climbing the top chord back to the apex of the structure. These were decidedly the best views yet since we were facing the Opera House and Circular Quay. Up and up we went. The wind was so strong, it blew off my hat twice - no matter since it was clipped to my harness. We were all having a spectacular time.

At the apex of the top chord on the east side, we stood next to the second flagpole, bearing the Australian flag. Here we stood and rested, gazing over the incredible views. Our guide pointed out Fort Denison, which had been a tiny rocky outcrop in the middle of the original harbor. At various points, incoming convicts were put here for processessing. At one point in the 1800s, a person convicted of murder was sent to Sydney. He then murdered one of the other convicts, so the government decided to make an example of him. He was sentenced to hang in chains on Fort Denison (which wasn't yet a fort) - they hung him out there and left his body there for four years as a warning to all incoming people that the government meant business. Much later, in the early 20th century, two American warships slipped into the harbour one night, undetected. Allies, yes, but when the Australians woke up in surprise to two unanticipated warships, they realized they were vastly under-protected. So they built the fort and stationed cannon for protection.

Anyway, there we were, 134 m (400 ft) over the water. 75 m (225 ft) over the roadway. The flags were fully unfurled in the billowing wind and we felt on top of the world.

As we crossed over the roadway a third time, we passed a 7 ft tall red beacon. The overall center of the bridge. We looked down at the road so far below. And boy did it seem a long way down to the lane numbers 4 and 5 below. I was loving every second of it.

Seeing as we were stuck in the same order thanks to our come-alongs, I got to know the adjacent people a bit. In front of me were Dani and Dan from the UK (lol, much was made of having Dani, Dan, and Dan at the front of the group) and behind me was Aldo from NSW. Further back were Sandy and Kim from NY/Miami respectively and another couple whose names I didn't remember. Interestingly, everyone was extremely gung-ho for the trip. No one had even the slightest apprehension about climbing. This was great as it meant we all cruised along. Dan was a professional horse rider, in terms of competition, teaching, and shows. Aldo was an electrical engineer. They were both pretty interesting and it was nice chatting in between the guide, Mike's, commentary. As the resident structural engineer, I ended up asking lots of structural questions - but I also held back a bit and tried to avoid being "that guy". As far as I know, no one minded. Also, when it seemed appropriate, I'd point out things to Dan and Aldo. I think they enjoyed that too. 

Crossing the apex, we returned down the 83 stairs we had climbed. This brought us down to the apex of the lower chord. From there we headed south, descending along the western face. When we reached the deck, we again crossed below the fascia beam. Looking down through the grating, there was nothing but air and the open grating between me and the water. Just as we passed, a subway train zoomed by right next to us. Imagine having the wheels of a train at 40 mph (70 kph) at a distance of 5 ft from your face! Thankfully it was shielded, but we definitely felt the vibrations of the train in the bridge all around us. I was pretty surprised that we weren't forced to wear hard hats and safety glasses.

We again followed the catwalk back along the bottom of the deck to the kingpost, passed the pylon, and then along the approach spans to the portal where we had entered. Even though this experience was as-anticipated, it was still unbelievable. I have nothing but respect for the ironworkers who built these incredible structures back in the day and I'm grateful that NSW has allowed tourists to have this amazing experience. 

I think back to my behind-the-scenes tour of the George Washington Bridge as an undergrad, which was every bit as amazing. And yet, these opportunities are very few and far between. Unless you go through SPRAT climbing training and dedicate your career to inspection, it's very hard to get to climb such epic structures. What an experience.

Do we think this post is too long yet? Nah, I'm going to carry on. Go get a drink if you need one. I have one.

Stan met me in the BridgeClimb foyer. We had just a couple hours before he had to head to the airport, so we did what we do best: we walked. We went through the weekend market in the streets of the Rocks, passing under the bridge's approach spans at street level. I grabbed a tasty chicken and chorizo paella from one vendor while Stan went for a pastry. From there we walked counter clockwise around the promentory following the water. After going past a couple wharves (and grabbing coffee and a brownie), we walked along the Barangaroo Reserve, a park that was highly manicured but designed to look somewhat natural. Lots of orange, weathered rocks. Very nice. Following the water, we headed almost as far as the Darling Harbour, but we turned left and up into the heart of the city. This time I dropped Stan at the Wynyard station where he headed for the airport.

As for me, I headed for Circular Quay. The weather today was much much cooler - overcast, windy, and about 22 C (74 F). I caught a ferry to Cockatoo Island, which had been Australia's primary shipbuilding island for a long time. Today deserted barring a campground, screaming seagulls and a clinking aluminum soda can tumbleweed gave the island an entirely eerie atmosphere. Battleship-sized buildings sat totally empty, with a faint greenish light peering through corrugated plastic sheeting. The wind outside was vivacious, giving these silent spaces a horrid persona. Worse, only a couple other people were walking around - but I was sure grateful for them. I did a fairly quick lap before catching the ferry back to the city.

To finish out the day, I headed to a hotel in the Rocks. My colleague had recommended that I check out the Glenmore, a hotel-pub with a great rooftop view. Notwithstanding the cold windy weather, the roof was packed with an event when I arrived, so I took a beer down a level and camped out in an empty club room with some cricket on TV. The room was really cool actually: plush blue carpet, leather sofas and chairs, and a big round table before a fireplace topped with a stag's head. *takes interior design notes*. A view of the opera house out the window had been blocked, but seeing the cruise of the day depart, I decided I'd pop up to the rooftop again. Feeling enchanted with the view, I ordered a plate of grilled barrimundi over roasted curried potatoes and another beer and feasted, very content.

That night, in the dark, I crossed the bridge again, by foot - this time using the public sidewalk. Overhead, the truss stoically stood proud against the night sky. In the distance, on the steps of the Opera House, a concert got underway - none other than Parcels, whom I'd seen in Melbourne a couple nights before. I stopped at regular intervals to take it all in. What a night! And there, flying around, were those giant black flying things! Several of them, each flying solo through the night. I had a thought....

Did you guess what they were?

No? Well I'm going with flying foxes - a species of giant bat. Barely flapping, mostly gliding - with the iconic bat-shaped wing flaps. They were huge! But there, with Parcels and the view and the bridge and the night, they were perfect.

***

The final day of Sydney and my trip promised to be an excellent one. Thanks to ongoing jetlag, I again woke up early without an alarm and caught the ferry in to Circular Quay. When you think of Australia, you undoubtedly think of two structures - so today was my day for the Opera House. Grabbing a somewhat average flat white and pain au chocolat from the Opera Bar, I queued for the first tour of the day. 

We had a really excellent guide so here are a few quick-hit facts from the tour:

• The Opera House was conceived out of a design competition with 220 global entries by a little-known architect named Jorn Utzon. 
• The problem is that while the design was iconic, no one knew how it could be built. Engineers and Utzon grappled with it for ages; it ultimately took 16 years to build and was shockingly over-budget.
• For all that, it was entirely paid for out of donations and fundraising. No tax money was spent.
• The key to the engineering was that the shells were sections taken from the surface of a sphere with slices made through it. The shells of the structure were cast painstakingly and then post-tensioned to bring them to the right curvature.
• Construction was in three phases: the pedestal/foundations, the shells, and then the two performance halls, which are independent structures inside the shells. The foundations house 14 stories worth of parking deck and loading dock, which are totally hidden from the surface.
• All of the constructruction materials are from Australia except the structural glass - the first of its kind in the world - and the tiles on the shell. The tiles are of two types (matte and gloss) to get just the right amount of reflection when you're looking at it. They're also used for projection (the projector is across the Quay up in the Rocks.

This is going to sound funny, but if you ignore the shells and go into the guts of the building, it's strongly reminiscent of the Washington Metro. Dimly back-lit concrete beams with bronze finishes. The signage consists of the same bronze light boxes with white font. Very surreal.

Funny enough, Utzon never saw the end of the project. One MP - who it later turned out had falsified his education credentials and was booted from office - went on the warpath against the late/overbudget opera. Utzon had a contract where he'd get paid only upon completion and only if he didn't resign, so the MP, Hughes, cut off funding for his team instead. After a while, this black mail forced Utzon to resign. The shells were mostly complete, but he took the blueprints for the concert spaces back to Denmark.

A new architect was forced to complete the project for one-third the budget in Utzon's style and it opened in 1973. While the shells were marvelled as a masterful work of art, the opera hall and concert hall were immediately panned for their terrible sound quality because it had been done on the cheap. Fast forward 25 years and the government was desperate to bring Utzon back on the job to fix the interior. Utzon agreed, only if he was paid what he was originally due - with 25 years of interest. Also, he was too old to travel, so he sent his son to Australia and they coordinated from afar. The updates were made piecemeal and finally finished in 2023. Finally, 66 years after the start of the project, it was complete and it was a marvel! Australia's iconic Opera House, the youngest UNESCO World Heritage Site.

I'll just say here that I decided to book a ticket to Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet for later that evening. The perfect end to a magnificent trip, enchanted by his gorgeous score in the incredible Sydney Opera House.

As for the daytime though, I opted for another walk! This time it was the must-see Bondi Beach to Coogee walk along four miles of Pacific coastline. I got there and returned by bus, another testament to the city's great transit services. The walk was spectacular, partly because it was a sunny, warm day. Winding amongst the inlets, I was again reminded of Sydney's decidedly beach-centric culture. I was just about the only person in hiking attire. Waves crashed in brilliant white foam on the orangey rocks in some places; in others, surfers rode the waves up and down the beaches. 

***

Sydney is definitely a beautiful city with iconic views. I certainly had some marquee moments thanks to the city's main attractions. The iconic activities are great and what's not to love about heading to the opera or climbing bridges? There's always the beach and it seems like you've got to get a boat if you live here.

But Melbourne has my heart. I loved the cafe culture and everyday charm of the city. You can enjoy walking the streets every day, ducking in and out of the arcades and dining on great Pacific cuisine. Outside the city there are all kinds of untapped natural resources.

Still, Sydney has to tease: as I got up this morning before sunrise, I left my airbnb to brilliant reds and oranges on the horizon. A cruise ship was coming into port just as the sun peaked it's head through the distant cloud.  Absolutely stunning. 

With that, it's just the trip home! I have one more blog in me with final thoughts and a summary of my trip. Thanks for making it this far!

Melbs Part II

 Wednesday 3rd December

By this point in the trip, Granola had intended to be back to their normal routine. But what is normal anyway? Stan and Pola had intended to compete in a massive dancesport competition in Melbourne over the coming weekend, but it came to light that they had actually missed the sign up. Ultimately it worked out well-ish, because Stan was invited to go to Sydney on short notice for a leadership thing for work. So he was already gone before I got up in the morning. Stan is also a structural engineer, and he's been working on a big project in Melbourne. Over my two weeks with the gang, I heard many stories of his successes and challenges (especially challenges) which resonated with my own structural engineering experience. 

Why do we do this profession, which brings perpetual stress, loads of liability, long hours, and lower pay than most engineering fields (not to mention other forms of consulting)? I'd like to think it's the satisfaction of the public service. It is undeniably satisfying building the constructed environment around us, but - I guess like everything in life - it does take a toll. It's hard for me to convey this reality to my non-structural engineering family and friends. But I find it telling that that two people in different forms of structural engineering for different companies on opposite ends of the world grapple with the same stresses day in and day out. Oof, what a world!

Pola, for her part, had continued her cold. She took Monday off with a chesty cough, but finally by Wednesday was starting to come around. I also had had the cold over the weekend. Mine seemed a lot better than hers though - and mine was limited to all the congestion. I went through a fair few tissues in NZ and Melbourne. We shared a box of nice soothing lotion-infused New Zealand Kleenex. They were soft and thick, very pleasant for all your congestive experiences.

Grace had intended to have a full week of normal work too. On Saturday coming off the boat, she was feeling a little uneasy with some abdominal pain. Sunday and Monday had been fineish (recall, we even went dancing), and Tuesday she had welcomed a friend of hers from the UK to Melbourne. But Wednesday was not a good day for her. Somewhere along the line she must have picked up something bacterial that took a long time to incubate because she spent the day at home, quite unwell. I can only imagine it must have come from the Routeburn Track, but it's hard to pin down since we boiled all our water and we all ate and drank the same stuff. Pola and I had been fine (except the cold) and Stan had said he felt slightly uneasy at one point, but nothing further materialized. Anyway, I felt terrible for Grace as the Mueller Hut was the most difficult hike she'd ever done by quite a margin and the Routeburn was her first backpacking trip. I wanted everything to go well and this wasn't what I had in mind.

Thankfully she had loved the hiking and she was very gracious about the illness. 

So Wednesday was a day mostly on my own. I took a slow start to the day, taking advantage of everyone being at work. Indeed, I say slow, but truth be told I never fully acclimated to the time zones. Every morning I'd wake up in the 5:30-7:00 timeframe and hopelessly roll over until about 7:30. Of course the evenings were full of fun and activities (with the occasional blog) so I was going to bed between 23:00 and 1:00. Where did I pay the price? Between 14:00 and 18:00 every day, which felt like overnight in the East Coast. In the National Gallery of Victoria I had been extremely tired walking around and, having a seat in one of the galleries, I almost dozed off. On the trail and later in Sydney, I certainly dragged through the hot afternoons outdoors. Usually a bit of food or dinner would power me through the evenings, but then I would totally crash when I hit the pillow. It's not an exaggeration to say I was falling asleep in seconds.

So when I say I had a slow start to the morning, what I mean is that I woke up at 7 and then lazed in bed until 9:30 when I "finally" got out the door. Carpe Diem, as they say.

(***pfffff. I'm writing this from the plane between Sydney and Fiji and I just took my first sip of a dreadful coffee. I've been spoiled over the last week....Can I ever drink coffee again?***)

Speaking of coffee, I left Stan and Pola's and headed straight for Duke's in the CBD. I again passed the Shrine of Remembrance and headed through the park, enjoying the palms, eucalyptus, ficus, pines, and all the wonderful birds (and noisy miners). Crossing the Yarra River at the Flinders Street Station meant I was only steps away from this delicious coffee. I complemented my flat white with a flaky ham and cheese croissant and wedged myself in amongst the throng of businesswomen and men who, even at 10 am, were packed into the cafe. 

The day was stunning, heading towards 29C (84F) and sunny. I let my sunny disposition lead me in an ambling manner towards the northeast corner of the CBD rectangle where I stumbled upon the towering St Patrick's Cathedral. The inside was bathed in a golden yellow light that warmly illuminated beautiful tile and mosaic floors. Walking around in silent reverence, I was amazed how open this cathedral felt. It seemed to me like St. Patrick's was much more light in structure than most or all of the similar cathedrals I had visited in Europe. The columns partitioned the nave into the customary left, center, and right areas along the congregation, but their slenderness allowed for amazing views diagonally across the nave and alter. The choir loft behind the altar was slightly elevated such that its floor was at shoulder level. So when you stood at the very head of the cathedral's cross behind the choir (sorry for my weak cathedral terminology), you could see along the floor of the choir, past the altar, all the way down the nave to the entrance - with a great stained glass rose window overhead. Most cathedrals have many obstructions, be they columns or pedestals, icons or monuments, pews or organs, but this was fantastically open and airy. I suspect that where European gothic cathedrals relied mainly on empirical design, Melbourne's neo-gothic cathedral was a product of modern engineering science; it truly benefits for being less overly-conservative.

From the cathedral, I walked a couple blocks to Melbourne's Royal Exhibition Hall. You will recall in a previous post where I discussed the city tidying up its act in the late 1800s. Well Melbourne hosted two world exhibitions in 1880 and 1888, for which it constructed a monumental Victorian exhibition hall. The outside of the massive rectangular structure is cream colored with Victorian-style embellishments on the two-story facade. But the structure is dominated by an octahedral dome in its center, supporting a slate-grey roof and proud Australian flag. Sadly they were preparing an event so I couldn't go inside, but I understand that it has beautiful wood floors and an open multi-story interior. I guess I'll have to go back. 

I briefly wandered around the flowery gardens that surrounded the building on my way to the adjacent Melbourne Museum. While primarily featuring natural history exhibits, I had two cultural exhibits in mind for my visit: permanent exhibits on indigenous Australians and the history of Melbourne. I covered a lot of this previously, so I won't go into detail again, but I valued having the opportunity to learn more about the history and traditions of this region. I especially appreciated learning about the aborigines and I used the opportunity to reflect on modern culture. Say what you will about the complex issues and the rightfulness or not of Europeans settling in this part of the world, the aborigines have a lot to teach us about revering the world around us. We should always remember to respect and revere other cultures, the environment, and the seemingly commonplace aspects of our lives. We must not take life or traditions for granted as we need to look to our past to plan for our future. And, furthermore, in a world full of mechanization and automation, most of us have sadly lost touch with what the natural world is constantly telling us. We would do well to observe nature more closely - we're a part of it and it has told us much in the last 200,000 years!

Speaking of nature, I couldn't help myself but to pass through one natural exhibit on my way out: the world's most complete triceratops fossil! Found in Montana, it's 85% complete. Growing up, I was such a dinosaur enthusiast. So seeing this was a real treat.

By now it was late afternoon. I stopped at the Cafe Tomi on my way north for a flat white and an incredible mushroom and cream cheese danish while the cafe spun a John Coltrane vinyl. But before too long I was on the move again. I walked and walked and walked, heading to Flemington to see my Keble friends Sam and Kylie. They've been living here pretty much since Oxford. I hadn't seen them since a wedding in Ottawa in 2018, so it was wonderful to catch up. In addition to debating the nature of Melbourne, we talked friends, economics, international politics, and life in general. It was so lovely to catch up with them!

Not wishing to repeat the 7.5 mile walk I'd taken from South Melbourne to Flemington, I caught the train back to Flinders Street Station. Waiting for the train, a big black thing with a massive wingspan glided overhead in the dusk. What on earth!? I guess a late night shorebird (It wasn't; you have between now and my Sydney post to figure out what type of bird it was).

At Flinders Street, I found the CBD to be in high form. It was around 21:30 and the city was abuzz with holiday spirit. I walked along the water, taking in the lights and sights. It felt like Atlantic City boardwalk in June, but looked like Christmas on the Thames. The spirit was festive and there was much revelling. At last I made my way south away from the river. Unfortunately I also accidentally made my way away from Pola and Stan's place, so I took a very long detour to get home. It was nearly 23:00 and after a quick recap with Pola, I crashed...

Thursday 4th December

It was up and Adam on Thursday, another beautiful day. I walked into CBD with Pola, who was kind enough to show me her company's amazing 32nd floor observation patio. CBD and South Melbourne was laid out before us and we could see many of the landmarks I had visited along with Port Philip Bay nearby. The Bay always looked so placid and beautiful.

I left her company and headed east along Collins Street, the artery of downtown Melbourne. I cut through an arcade to Flinders Street and kept following the river to Melbourne's sports zone. Melbourne is like Boston of the southern hemisphere: it's a massive sports city with a variety of premiere teams and events. On the river there was rowing taking place and I already talked about the Melbourne Grand Prix track. In addition, Melbourne is home to the Australian Open of tennis, the Aussie Rules Football Grand Final, major rugby, and the famous Ashes cricket tournament between England and Australia. If you love sport in Australia, Melbourne is the place to be.

Most of these things take place in Melbourne's sport complex, and the focal point of the complex is the 110,000-seat Melbourne Cricket Grounds, one of the most famous stadiums in the entire world. Fans from around the world dream of seeing cricket in these venerated grounds, although people have also flocked to the MCG for concerts featuring the globe's most famous artists like Taylor Swift.

I, too, flocked to the stadium for a cricket match: Day 1 of the Sheffield Shield match between Victoria and Western Australia. As the start of a minor day in a minor regional match in the middle of a weekday, it was no surprise to me that there were only about 1000 fans in attendance. We were cordoned off to the lowest level of the field, about 90 degrees worth of the oval. Even still, each fan had rows to themselves if they were so inclined. For the start of the match, I sat behind the wicket so I could see the bowlers coming towards me and throwing away from me. There was no ceremony at the start, no pomp or circumstance. No announcements, nothing. All of a sudden, 15 men dressed in all white made a slow walk from the edge of the oval to the center. Two carried bats and had helmets on. Two had funny wide-brimmed straw hats. The rest had normal hats. On closer inspection (and thanks to the scoreboard), I ascertained that Victoria were fielding first. 

And now, a quick cricket primer. The Sheffield Shield is a national tournament amongst Australia's six states and territories. I believe it's a double round robin format. Each match takes place over four consecutive full days with each team receiving 2 innings. An inning consists of 10 wickets (outs, in baseball parlance) with each player getting to bat for as long as it takes for them to get out. It's a little confusing, but I think in this format the innings can also end if 96 "overs" are bowled or other reasons (weather, forfeiture). The play progresses across units known as overs, where one over is 6 balls (pitches) thrown by one "bowler" (pitcher). Like baseball, the batter tries to hit the ball to score runs. But unlike baseball, the bases - of which there are two - are always loaded by default and the batter is never obliged to run when they hit it. Generally, when the batter hits the ball, he and his partner will only run (switch sides) if they think they'll be safe. Thus, the sport is extremely batter friendly and it's quite hard to get wickets (outs). 

With limited time in Melbourne, I only stayed to watch a couple hours. In that time, WA scored 3-67 in 28.4 overs. This means that Victoria achieved 3 wickets (2 caught out, 1 "leg-before-wicket") while WA scored 67 runs. The 28.4 overs indicate that 168 balls had been bowled. Perry, McClure, and Elliott bowled most of the overs for Vic and I think they did a fine job. Several days later I tuned in to see the final score: Victoria had 255 and won by 6 wickets. What this means is that in their second innings, Victoria caught up to Western Australia after only 4 wickets and had 6 wickets to spare. It would be like saying that if Boston had a walk off victory against the Yankees with one out in the bottom of the 9th, the score might be 5, winning by 2 outs. I thoroughly enjoyed my cricket experience at "The G" and hope I get to go see a full match some day.

It was around 13:00 and I went to a nearby cafe to meet Grace and her friend for lunch. Grace had recovered (enough) from her sofa day and so she and her friend were on their way out of town to do the Great Ocean Road and Grampian Mountains for a few days. It was lovely getting to cross paths with her one last time before my own flight - when you go nine years between visits with your friend, you cherish every moment. I also cherished my iced moccha with its surprise scoop of ice cream. 

That afternoon was spent at Pola's doing laundry and getting organized, for the next day was flight day. After work, however, Pola had invited me to dinner and a concert with her parents. Pola's parents live in the vicinity so they met up with us at a nearby restaurant, Peko Peko, serving Taiwanese faire. This was fun for me because the spot is one of Stan and Pola's favorites; Grace and Pola's parents had all been there on multiple occasions too. We shared perfectly cooked crispy calamari, beef and broccoli, chicken and vegetables, and spicy dumplings. I especially enjoyed the dumplings, but everything was delicious. 

It was also great getting to know Pola's parents, who are very cool. Active outdoors people and keen travelers, we talked a lot about hiking and travel from dining through our walk to the concert, and back.

The concert was held at the Myer Music Bowl, which is very reminiscent of DC's Wolf Trap Farm Park. We had lawn seating, so we sat on the steep slopes on a blanket while the crowd gathered. The opening act did their thing and then, as sun had set, finally Parcels took the stage. Let me tell you, this concert was amazing. Parcels describe themselves as electropop, but I would describe them has having a bit of a 60s to 70s funk vibe with their ensemble consisting of synthesizer, guitar, bass, and drumset. And while the synth was central to their sound, what really made the music was the incredible four- and five-part harmony. Weaving in and out of harmonic unison, they created a tightly knit fabric of vocals that blended fabulously with their mechanically rhythmic instrumentation. The night was beautiful and with views looking on to the Melbourne skyline, we enjoyed a lovely concert.

Friday 5th December

Alas, Friday. Getaway day. Also business day! Being in a global company does afford some nice opportunities. We have a structural team in Melbourne, so I could not pass up the chance to stop in and meet a couple members of the group. First, I met one colleague (technically now a former colleague) at Charter House Coffee on Flinders Lane. I again sprung for the flat white and a ham and cheese croissant, the best way to start the day in Melbourne. I had never met Chantalle in person, but we'd worked quite regularly over the last couple years in an early career group - she was my successor as the global early careers lead for our practice. So meeting up was great as we got to compare notes on the benefits and drawbacks of structural engineering as an industry. Incidentally, she's now changed industries entirely, and loves the reasonable work load and reduced stress. 

From there, I headed to my company's office in the Docklands part of CBD. This is the most modern part of Melbourne's city center and the buildings there practically still have the new car smell. Stan even worked on a structure in this neighborhood, so that was cool. I enjoyed meeting my colleagues in the office, getting a tour, sharing a little presentation, and then going out for lunch. It was all PTO time for me, but when you live across the world from your colleagues, you have to take the time to meet face-to-face when you can. Body language is more powerful than video chat and meeting face-to-face offers unparalleled benefits. I was super grateful to the team for letting me drop in! The people are always a key benefit of the business and it's fantastic putting faces to names.

I moseyed around town just a bit longer, soaking up the ambiance. Pola messaged that she'd join me and take me past the South Melbourne market on the way to the station. So we stopped by home to grab the car and my stuff and off we went. The market was interesting - a lot like Oxford's covered market. Since it was the end of the day, not much was going on though and, besides, I was on the clock.

With that, Pola dropped me Southern Cross. I hopped on a SkyBus and rode to the airport. Granola treated me so well in Melbourne. As I mentioned up front, so many people told me that Sydney was their preferred city and that Melbourne was just 'fine'. But as I headed to the airport, I reflected on how great a time I had there. I feel like there was a bunch more to explore there - especially on the outskirts of town - and that it was such a great city to live in. From beautiful public spaces to an excellent food scene, to multi-cultural diversity and loads of cultural events, this city is certainly amongst my favorites globally. I can't wait to go back!

Melbs Part I

 *cracks knuckles*

Right, that's enough fluffy philosophizing. Let's actually talk about all the good stuff that I got up to in Melbourne! Hopefully the last post will prove to be useful context for the next few posts about Australia's two largest cities.

Sunday 30th November

It turns out that Queenstown, New Zealand has a tiny airport. We arrived early enough to return our car and walked from the car rental lot to the terminal, a whopping distance of a couple hundred yards. If that. After breezing through Jetstar check-in and security, we had a fair bit of time to kill before our noon flight. I had introduced Grace and Pola to Hearts the day before, so we played a couple hands. I got massacred.

The flight was quick (3 hours) and smooth. While writing a blog, they came around and served food. Beef pies!! You don't see meat pies at all in America, so I've been very happy to get my fill of these goodies at every opportunity this trip. I also enjoyed a Solo, an Australian lemon soda that rivals New Zealand's (quite sugary) L&P. 

When we landed in Australia, we all went through customs together. Thanks to an aggressive scrub before flying, no hiking boots were subjected to biosecurity inspection. I hopped into an Uber with Stan and Pola while Grace caught her own back home. I was quite sad about dividing the team at this juncture. We'd had such great bonding in NZ and it was unfortunate that while I was still on holiday, all three of them would be returning to work.

Driving the half hour from the airport to South Melbourne was a shock. The largest road I'd taken since Boston had been 4 lanes at the Christchurch airport. But now we were on a massive 12 lane highway heading into the city. The road was also lined with funny arid flora - tall, scraggly trees with pom-style poofs of leaves. Smooth bark. Very scraggly. Unlike New Zealand's familiar ferns and beech forests, this new flora was fascinating.

We threw down our stuff, started laundry, and then hit the city. In that short afternoon, we wandered through Melbourne's grand Shrine of Remembrance park and the adjacent Royal Botanical Garden. That's where I learned that everything was a eucalyptus tree (it's not, but it seems like it) and witnessed a ridulous plethora of bin chickens (Australian Ibis) and swamphens. Parrots and lorikeets flew all around the strange garden too, using colorful language to match their colorful apperance. Unfortunately some intermittent rain threatened to intensify and we took cover just before getting dumped on. A nearby wedding on the banks of a pond wasn't so lucky.

We headed back to Stan and Pola's to move the laundry and pick up a car. They drove me around Albert Park - home to Melbourne's Formula 1 track before we went to Chevapi Grill in South Melbourne for dinner. The two-story Victorian/modern architecture perplexed me because I couldn't decide to what extent the neighborhood was gentrified. But, anyway, these thoughts left me when we tucked into a Balkan beef burger with delicious polenta fries (a Melbourne staple) and baked white beans. After some grocery shopping we retired home to watch a ridiculous Australian sitcom called Kath & Kim before bed.

Monday 1st December

It was the beginning of advent, not that you would know it from the temperatures. I commuted with Stan to CBD on foot, a short walk where I caught my first glimpses of the city. He and I both went to work. Unlike his work, my job was to explore the city. This started with checking out the Victorian Flinders Street Station, with its beautiful rounded entrance - surprisingly similar to Boston's South Station - and ornate cream exterior. 

Feeling a bit lost in the midst of the morning rush, I headed around the corner to a small parallel street and ducked into the first decent cafe I saw: Dukes cafe. It was full of locals and - although intimidated - I ordered a flat white and sat down. A tourist in tourist's clothing. My flat white arrived in a generous ceramic coffee cup. The coffee was topped with the customary foam feature an impressive spade-shaped pattern. I took a sip. Whoa. So that's what coffee is supposed to taste like. The complexity of the beans popped and morphed in my mouth. The froth was so creamy and delicious. It was easily the best coffee I'd ever tasted, by such a long margin. 

Once I took the opportunity to bump into a waitress and nearly send someone else's coffee flying (still so embarrassed), I set out again, ready to really tackle my task. Melbourne is known for laneways and arcades - tiny alleys bisecting the long blocks and featuring cute, small shops, patisseries, chocolateries, and others. I turned into the central, most famous arcades - which are called Block Arcade and Royal Arcade - to look around. Many of the shops were closed due to it being Monday, but this allowed me uninterrupted opportunity to examine the fancy stained glass roofs and other Victorian details.

Continuing to head away from Flinders Street and the river, I came to the State Library of Victoria. The building itself is cool because it has a huge four-story hexagonal reading room but I also examined some exibits on the role of books in different aspects of society.

The library also had an exhibit on Ned Kelly, a bushranger from the late 1800s. The bushrangers were essentially outlaws, stealing from the government and staying on the lam. Ned had an iconic metal suit that very nearly resembled the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The slit in the helmet was especially excellent, offering an extremely frightening spectre to all opponents. With armor down to his knees, Ned Kelly successfully rebounded from several bullet hits in police shootouts, which left mighty dents in the outfit. Finally, the police shot him in the lower legs and that was that. Ned was an Irish immigrant and after issuing a few statements to the people and the court about how much prejudice he had received, tons of people sided with him. Still, he lost the court battle and was sentenced. Ironically, his suit of armor is now on display in a library established by the judge of his trial.

Leaving the library (and making a quick stop at Melbourne Central mall), I hopped on a tram to leave CBD and hit the National Gallery of Victoria. Many consider this to be Australia's premiere art museum. In the museum cafe I enjoyed a delicious burrata salad and a glass of wine before hitting all the amazing Medieval and Renaissance art.

When I was done, I walked back into CBD and saw a couple of the same arcades again before heading to Pola and Grace's workplace. Grace met me in the lobby and we hopped in her car bound for an evening of Westie in FitzRoy, a neighborhood northeast of CBD. FitzRoy looks a lot like South Melbourne (dilapidated Victorian upstair facades over weirdly modern street-level storefronts) but we barely had time to look. Diving into a restaurant, we speedily ate an order of polenta fries and took a wood-fired pizza to go. We were only a couple minutes late to West Coast Swing where we had a couple great classes and enjoyed a really fun social. They have an excellent community here in Melbourne and the dancing was really fun.

Tuesday 2nd December

Stan was kind enough to take off the Tuesday so we could do a little road trip. With so many nearby options (Great Ocean Road, Philip Island, Grampian Mountains), it was hard to decide. Ultimately, however, it was going to be the peninsula for its versatility.

But first we needed breakfast. There's a famous croissanterie in Melbourne called Lune. The pastry chef there had been going through a bit of a mental health battle in the 2010s and decided to go to Paris to learn patisserie. She succeeded and today Lune's croissants are the best in town. Deliciously filled (or plain!), the croissants explode on contact, just as intended. Everything there looked awesome but I went with two classics: plain and almond. Yes, I stuffed myself on two croissants. When in Rome...

If you look at a satellite view of Melbourne, you could be mistaken into thinking that it sits at the back of a cute little bay. That's at least the mistake I made before arriving there. Instead, Port Philip Bay is a gargantuan waterbody with a 265 km (165 mi) circumference. Stan and I decided to hit the east leg of the bay, and we were in the car quite a while to get out to the interesting bits. Don't forget everything you see is "Melbourne" - just not "Melbourne CBD". 

Our first real stop was The Briars Wildlife Sanctuary in Mount Martha. It seemed a shame to come to Australia and not see any core wildlife, so was hoped to find some in the sanctuary. Also, Stan's other goal was to share with me what "the bush" is like. 

Check and check.

The bush is fascinating. Scraggly mid-size trees are scattered through a grassy "forest floor". I hesitate to call it forest though, as the trees are sparse enough that you're bound to get burnt if you aren't careful. Stan was quick to point out that in the bush, you'll often find patches with long-dead trees that haven't decayed one iota. Isn't that weird? They're still as solid as the day they died. Just grey and lifeless. Admittedly, there is forest in Australia and the trees do get taller. But much of the wilderness consists of thin bush and lots of grass. Plenty of eucalyptus too.

On the fauna side of house, we saw so much. I haven't fully catalogued it all yet, but we saw kangaroos (which are apparently like rats), a wallaby, emus, and boatloads of parrots, wrens, cockatoos, ravens, laughing miners, ducks, a heron, and so on. At some point the noise from the parrots was such that I couldn't focus on the diversity of individual smaller birds. It was a sensory overload! The parrots and lorikeets - with their intensely bright colored plumage - were really amazing. But the biggest win was seeing the emus. We were walking along the trail when I saw two bison-like mounds moving in some tall grass. Looking more closely revealed that they were the huge bodies of the emus rather than some North American beast. Stan pointed out that emus cause the greateast threat of injury of any animal in Australia; I guess it must be a combination of severity and likelihood, like any great risk matrix. It's supposedly easy to see them, but they're very tempramental.

Unfortunately we did not see koalas (even though they had recently been seen in the park). Nor did we see kookaburras, but we heard 3-4 of them further off in the bush. What a sound! So ridiculous.

Moving on, Stan and I stopped in the area of Rye (remember, still Melbourne) to grab a quick bite. He had chili eggs while I had something generic. The cafe we chose was in eyesight of the brilliant blue water of the placid bay and we saw a pelican fly overhead.

After eating we continued to Point Nepean National Park. This park consists of the tip of the peninsula, the end of the bay where it meets the mighty Pacific. Mostly sand with dense bush, people can follow a single asphalt road through the small park to a fort at its tip. Swallows flitted above the trees and out over the water as we walked. Where the road narrowed, Stan and I could see that the bay side was super quiet while the ocean side was wild with waves and tumult. Both sides were beautiful as crystal water refracted gorgeous stand and craggy limestone rocks beneath.

A sign warned that a Prime Minister went missing, presumed dead, while surfing here in the 1960s.

The several-kilometer road undulated up and down a few knobs on its route to the very tip. At the end, the deserted fort was well-overgrown with shrubs and trees, a post-apocalyptic reminder of a former conflict. The fort had been built during the World Wars to protect Melbourne against foreign attack. Much of the fort was built into the stone of the knob and one could go to several different above- and below-ground levels. Down by the water, the beach was stunning! Yet signs admonished visitors to stay on the trail as unexploded ordinance could still be lurking. It all seemed a bit silly though; Australia is so far away from other countries that these weapons are basically pointless.

In fact, Stan found the guns had only been fired twice in combat: immediately after the war commensed, a German ship that had moored in Port Philip Bay was denied exit by the firing of the two guns. It promptly turned around and was captured.

That evening, we got back from our long drive just in time for dinner. Stan and I headed to a sushi place in Bentleigh (they have amazing Asian food here in Australia) before he showed me his ballroom studio. We also went to Brighton Beach, home of the famous multi-colored beach shacks for an impressive skyline view of Melbourne pre-sunset. Relocating slightly up the road to St Kilda's beach, we admired the sunset over the bay. Ideally, we would have also seen a large band of penguins come to roost just after sunset (as they do literally every day, go figure), but new ticketing and gating procedures prevented us from getting close. Thankfully one or two ostracised penguins stayed on the colony outskirts where we could catch a fleeting view in the gorgeous dusk.

What a great day for bush, wildlife, and sunsets. Melbourne was off to a fine start.

Nap time for me, more to follow soon.

What is Melbourne?

This is not an answer in the trivia game show Jeopardy. No, this is a real question.

What is Melbourne?

Having been here for 5 days, my conclusion is that Melbourne is a parallel universe. It feels familiar rather than foreign. Everyday, common, normal. And yet it's not. Everything here is twisted, unique. Fresh. Unexplored.

So, let's explore what it is. Here I'll note that I've only been here a few days, so that hardly qualifies me to be an informed cultural commentator. Nonetheless, I've made a few observations and it's fun to draw comparisions.

Let's start with the geography. The modern city of Melbourne is a rectangle under 15 sq mi along the Yarra River, near to where it empties into Port Phillip Bay. The rectangle is such a regular grid of blocks that it's as if someone cookie-cut a section of New York's midtown and plopped it in Australia. The long blocks are parallel to the river with Flinders St separated from the river only by a set of railroad tracks. This rectangle is what everyone refers to as CBD: Central Business District. Population less than 200k. But when people talk about Melbourne, they aren't talking about CBD - they're talking about Greater Melbourne, which consists of CBD, the inner suburbs, and the outer suburbs. Greater Melbourne has a population of 5.4 million (Compare: London, 9 million; Washington DC 6 million) against an area of 4000 sq mi (London, 600 sq mi; Washington DC 5500 sq mi - and no, I did not miss a zero). So as you can see, the density of Melbourne is not very much. And when density is low, you have sprawling suburbs. More on this later. Greater Melbourne is stretched around the surprisingly gigantic Port Phillip Bay. The bay comes to an extremely narrow outlet of just a couple miles yet it takes something like 6 hours to drive the circumference. Remember how Milford Sound maxed out at 300 m deep? The max depth of Port Phillip Bay is 24 m, with an average depth of 8 m (25 ft). Extremely shallow and very well protected from the pacific.

History. Aboriginal Australians have been on this continent for thousands of years. They are organized into hundreds of "Countries", with a capital C, across the land. The British landed in modern day Sydney in 1788; this date is marked as "Australia Day" or "Invasion Day" with many many proponents of both. But this blog isn't about Sydney.

In 1835, Englishman John Batman arrived in modern day Melbourne (CBD) having come from Tazmania. He landed there and set up shop against the will of the British government in Sydney. I'm fuzzy on the specifics, but it seems like the Kulin nation was immediately impacted: Woiworung Country and Boonwurrung Country amongst others. The aborigines would attempt to barter and accommodate, but they were essentially cheated out of their homeland. Obviously these two facts (Sydney's disapproval and the displacement of the aborigines) are independent, but you can nonetheless see that Batman made a lot of enemies in a hurry.

Within six months of landing, Batman created a "treaty" deed that exchanged half a million acres of fertile pasture land for 40 pairs of blankets, 42 tomahawks, 130 knives, 62 pairs of scissors, 40 looking glasses, 250 handkerchiefs, 18 shirts, 4 jackets, 4 suits, and 150 lb flour. Needless to say, calling it a treaty was highly dubious.

People (and sheep) started flocking to Melbourne. Without Sydney's or London's support, the burgeoning government was somewhat on its own. It was like the wild west, but it nonetheless laid out the grid for CBD and successfully enticed potential settlers. In 1851, the real rush was on when gold was descovered nearby. At that point the British government chartered Victoria (Melbourne) as its own independent colony, separate from New South Wales (Sydney). And yet, the influx of settlers was on; they came from Germany, China, the US, and elsewhere. Chaos ensued. The population boomed, but everyone went to work in the mines, leaving a vacuum of tradesmen. Merchants went broke. Squalor and debauchery pervaded. Obviously, the aborigines suffered.

Ultimately gold made Melbourne in to a rich, splendid, and multicultural city. Social change came about in the late 1800s along with massive expansion to create the inner suburbs. To this day, much of the architecture in CBD and the inner suburbs is Victorian. You see a lot of the glazed brown tiles like you do in the London Tube. You also see the frilly Victorian building facades. The suburbs consist of predominantly two-story row buildings where the upper levels - broadly graffitied and cracked/crumbling plaster - feature elaborate formwork painted in cream and ochre pastel with frilly cast-iron window/porch railings. The bottom level - having gone through iterations of gentrification - are all modern store fronts. More on that later too.

But to summarize the remainder of our history, Australia federated all its colonies into one autonomous (but not independent) country in 1901. It would institute a white Australian act that effectively banned new minority immigration and essentially aimed to breed out the aborigines. As the 20th century progressed, war forced it to participate in far distant conflicts and, ultimately, modernize. Military bases along the ridiculously long coast aimed to protect the interior from the threat of the Nazis (More on that later - see a theme?). Abandoned inner suburbs became trendy as public transit boomed. Australia finally gained independence from Britain only in the 1980s. You will see that today Melbourne enjoys the benefits of being a cosmopolitan, multi-cultural, and generally progressive city built on gold and the benefits of being at the edge of the earth and still part of the British Empire. Yet beneath it all, it clearly grapples with how to appropriately address the atrocities of the not so distant past.

But what is Melbourne? It's not good enough to look at it's Victorian architecture and call it a product of the British. Americans and Chinese started arriving almost as soon as the city was founded and Australia has long looked to these non-European regions for cultural inspiration. Today the CBD is architecturally very Victorian, yes. But it's lined with fancy cafes serving top notch coffee and pastries (which, by the way, are more European rather than British), giving off vibes of being in Vienna or Paris rather than London. The streets are packed with a diversity of east and southeast Asians and the city boasts incredible sushi, ramen, Vietnamese, and other asian foods. And - not withstanding the superb public transit - Melbourne is very much an American-style car culture. The sprawling suburbs enable, nay, encourage it. Having a car is practically mandatory for getting out of the city and the many car parks are indicative of a culture where the car is king... even if they do drive on the left. [Aside, to the anglophiles out there, I will acknowledge that in Britain there's no clear standard as to which side of the sidewalk ('pavement') to walk on. But in Melbourne you would be a fool to try and walk on the right. I ran afoul of this many times. What a fool!]

The fact that I'm even writing a blog entitled "What is Melbourne?' is testament to how many times this Victorian city surprised and perplexed me. It's true that the ornate 150 year old architecture ranges from the decrepit to the magnificently maintained Flinders Street train station, but Melbourne today also shows off a flock of fascinating skyscrapers in the CBD and inner suburbs such as you'd see in many of the world's largest power cities like Shanghai or the London financial district. Some of these even feature guilded elements, a gaudy not-so-subtle testament to it's mining past.

One day, I had the opportunity to catch up with Sam and Kylie from my Keble days. One of Sam's first questions was whether I viewed Melbourne as more British or more American, a question that had already vexed British members of his book club. To them, the city isn't British. To me, the city isn't American. I think none of us would say what it is; but it's easy to say what it is not.

The residents of Melbourne take pride in this city. Five days a week, you are intimidated by the fine business fashion you see on the streets of the CBD. Ties and tailored shirts and blazers are common here, a sharp contrast to pre-covid America, let alone post. People are out and about; having coffee with colleagues or clients is expected rather than optional. I went in a variety of cafes in Melbourne and they were often packed with locals, business people in their 20s to 50s. 

They take great pride in their coffee culture here. The locals know all the roasters and are particular about only drinking coffee that was roasted within the last couple weeks. It was far and away the best coffee I've ever had anywhere; complex and multi-faceted, creamy and smooth. The latte art was obviously lovely, but they needn't rely on the art to prove their point. By the way, even if you're not drinking coffee, it's best to come in informed. I had a matcha that was equally spectacular - thick and creamy with the art. Chai comes in terms of powdered or leaf, spiced or not. I think it's not uncommon to turn one's nose up at powdered chai. Only the best in Melbourne. Oh, and yes, if you're drinking regular tea, expect to have a laundry list of options you've never heard of before. Russian Caravan? Australian Afternoon? Daintree Black? There is no shortage of fine drinking here.

Also, I found out, by accident of course, that in this parallel universe if you order iced coffee (or iced mocca), your coffee comes with a scoop of ice cream. What madness is this? Not that I complained.

The streets are busy with people, cars and trams. While I was in town, they opened a new metro line to complement their existing network. Their parks are meticulous and the streets are clean. Major cultural institutions like museums and the sports complex are easily within walking distance of CBD. The only bummer is the Yarra is a bit of a muddy mess, but the bay is definitely beautiful. 

The streets around CBD are decorated for Christmas; the 20C (75F) nights allow festive revellers to enjoy the ambiance. That is, depending if you can get behind all the cozy symbols when it's blazing hot out. At least when New York and Boston are -10C (14F) the hot chocolate is a matter of survival. So what is this alternate reality with Christmas on the beach?

Since Day One of this trip, the fauna have impressed - especially the diversity of birds. That continued here in Melbourne, where penguins gather in the same place at sunset everyday to watch the skyline fade into the dark. Still I will not attempt a full summary in this blog (more later). Rather, it was the flora that impressed. Fiji's flora was predictably tropical. New Zealand's flora was beautiful but unexpectedly straightforward. But what is Melbourne? In this city you get palms, pines, and all manner of Eucalyptus. In fact, it would appear that everything is eucalyptus since it has 700 species. When you walk down a street and catch a sweet whiff of this ancient tree (shrub?), you can't help but ask what fictional paradise you landed in. The trees all look weird, but they don't look wrong; only strange. Maybe it's the thin, smooth bark? Or the poms of foliage? But why do they look different than the northern hemisphere? After all, we have plenty of smooth-barked trees up north. It's hard to pin down what makes it different here in Melbourne, but it's definitely an alternate reality.

I think this gives you a great glimpse of what Melbourne is like. Before coming on the trip, a lot of people talke about how uninspiring Melbourne was compared to Sydney. To that, I would say au contraire! Perhaps this city lacks tons of major tourist attractions and spectacular views, but for that it is an impressively liveable city. The everyday experience of Melburnians is refined and steeped in modern tradition. Whether you're interested in the arts or parks or walks or sports or culture or folklore, there is so much to do here on a day to day basis that I think it's hard not to fall in love with this city. Indeed, do not look for the iconic, uniquely Melburnian elements because everything here seems somehow like you've seen it before. But you haven't. Because it's arguably the best of all worlds, a twisted parallel universe that pulls the best day-to-day elements of all the other places you've been into a wonderfully cosmopolitan city here at the edge of the earth.

So what is Melbourne? Who even knows, but I love it.

Road Tripping

One fantastic aspect of the New Zealand portion of this journey has been the road tripping. In this post I will describe a couple of our road journeys, so buckle up.

When we left Aoraki, we drove out to the nearby town of Twizel for a brunch meetup with two of Grace's friends who conveniently happened to be in the same area as we were. We met up at Mint Folk & Co., a lovely brunch spot in this small community shopping center. I went for an egg benedict with bacon on sourdough, accompanied by a flat white. We enjoyed hearing about Grace's friends' travels, which also included stints in Fiji and Australia; it was a pleasure to meet them and enjoy a nice breakfast together. They were on their way into Aoraki, so we talked about some of the cool things we had done and seen.

Also, this is where I first chatted with my gang about nice coffee. You see, drinks culture is very serious in Melbourne, where they live; I had heard much from a lot of people in Boston that I would need to lean into the cafe culture on my trip. So as I enjoyed my beautifully decorated flat white in a rounded porcelain cup, I was curious how they rated the coffee. The concensus? Very nice, but not as nice as their Melbourne favorites. To this uneducated coffee drinker, I thought it was a bit weaker than the coffees I'd had at home in the northeast and earlier on the trip, so I was confused as to what made this superior. What really makes a great coffee? According to my friends, it's a question of not burning the beans - which is different than the boldness or weakness of the cup itself. I remained unconvinced.

After a quick post office pit stop - including the friendliest postmaster I'd ever encountered (he went well out of the way to make sure my mail had the right touch for my recipients in the "Great North America") - we hit the road for the drive south.

It's hard to portray the various terrain we saw. From amber fields to green pastures; rolling hills to flat landscape, the drive evolved from one landscape to the next. There was a winding mountain pass with sweeping views and we descended to a ravine with a historic suspension bridge where bungee jumping was supposedly invented. We decided to pit stop in Wanaka, a bustling lakeside town with a famous tree offshore in the lake. We sampled "Patagonia" ice cream which tasted sublime, even if it didn't entirely remind me of my trip to Patagonia. Luxurious chocolate was a theme here, but I was also amazed with their homemade waffle cones.

Hopping back in the car, we finished our leg into beautiful Queenstown. This mountain town has a population of only around 30,000, but the tourists must significantly multiply that. It's located on Lake Wakatipu, a bright turquoise lake fed by the glaciers of the Southern Alps. Per Wikipedia, the lake is 50 miles long and a couple miles wide, forming a huge S shape. From Queenstown, you would be forgiven for thinking that the lake was actually a bay or fjord, such was its size and mysterious shape. 

The town is positioned against one of the big central bends of the S, in a location that has a natural inlet - very convenient for sheltering the few boats that run on the lake (including an old-fashioned steamer). It is on a hill slope that is only gentle relative to the surrounding mountains and the town center is dominated by a mostly pedestrianized shopping and dining area that's absolutely fantastic for visitors. Along the water, you can enjoy a small beach or simply take in a great sunset. We had ramen and went for a little walk before packing for our backpacking trip.

On the back end of the Routeburn (see last post), we had a hotel in Queenstown for two nights to recoup. We devoured the aforementioned Fergburgers on the stunning waterfront. I had also recalled hearing about "New Zealand-style ice cream" but unfortunately we didn't immediately find an option for this "real fruit ice cream" before being lured into yet another Patagonia ice cream branch. Yeah, ok, the chocolate and hazlenut-dipped cone with dulce de leche ice cream was too compelling to turn down.

On our last full day in New Zealand we had a big road trip in store. In all my research, everyone online said that Milford Sound was a must-see destination, a fjord on the coast of the South Island. What you have to understand, though, is that Milford Sound the town has almost no facilities. The road to Milford Sound is a roundabout 4-hour drive from Queenstown, passing through the smaller lakeside town of Te Anau halfway. Think of it as a clockwise drive around a significant chunk of lake, farms, and impenetrable mountains.

To make matters worse, there's irony: the one-way Routeburn Track is a miniscule 33 km (19 mi) in length, spanning the Divide. Its exit is a short handful of miles (maybe 10-15 mi) from Milford Sound. And yet, the drive from the Routeburn Track trailhead to its exit is a ridiculous 4.5 hours (324 kilometers). Stan did some research and discovered that through the years, many options have been presented for connecting Queenstown to Milford Sound. One credible option that was legitimately explored went like this:

- In Queenstown, take a ferry across the lake

- Transfer to a special all-terrain crawler to take you into the mountains

- Transfer to a monorail to propel you the bulk of the distance through the mountains

- Transfer to a bus at the Routeburn Track exit; the bus takes you through a tunnel (more on that in a moment)

In other words, Milford Sound is really hard to get to. Was it really worth an 8-hour round trip and $750 NZD in boat tickets on a day threatening lengthy downpours?

Short answer: absolutely.

So where we set off going north along Lake Wakatipu to get to the Routeburn trailhead, we setoff going south/west along the lake at 6:45 am for our long road trip. The views over the lake were great and there were nice rainbows as the sun penetrated the morning rain and clouds. We left the lake and drove past field after field of livestock, with some crop farming as well. When we reached Te Anau, we stopped for a quick pastry and coffee breakfast; Grace and I split a frittada, a breakfast pie (that was supposed to be a non-breakfast pie), and a hearty scone. But mainly we kept driving.

Three hours into this drive, we entered Mount Aspiring National Park, shortly before reaching the Routeburn Track exit. The Park road was entirely forested but as we drove into the deep valleys, we were met with strong rains and mist. The forecast was for 100 mm of rain (that we didn't think to check before booking our boat, oops!). Gaining elevation, we noticed that the valley walls were closing in. The mountains had no gaps; shear walls tumbled into the valley. The walls were riddled with "rivulets" of water. Of course, I'm sure each rivulet was, in reality, a torrent dwarfed by the scale of the landscape. 

At some point we pulled out from the trees and, looking ahead, the valley came to a dead end. The silvery gray mountain walls surrounded us. A traffic light and changeable message sign stood guard in front of a hole: the Homer Tunnel.

Completed in 1953, the Homer Tunnel was intended to be a 1.2 km (0.75 mi) two-lane tunnel. Indeed, it took them 30 years to build and at first it was started by five men with pick axes. The prospect of carving this thing with pickaxes is ridiculous however; the entire tunnel is through solid rock and explosives were quickly employed. Today, the completed tunnel implements alternating one-lane, one-way traffic. I honestly can't imagine how tight it would be to permit two lanes as it was pretty tight with just one lane.

Emerging from the tunnel revealed a spectacle straight from Jurassic Park. Vertical horseshoe-shaped cliffs issued hundreds of waterfalls from an enshrouded ridgeline. As we wound our way down switchbacks, we continually marvelled at the incredible spectacle. It's no wonder this drive is regarded as one of the best in the world; the sight was so impressive.

The road eventually straightened out as it entered the treeline. The showers continued, even as we rolled into the tiny town of Milford Sound. We could hardly see anything in the sound, as the mist was thick; even walking from the parking to the ferry terminal, we were all pretty wet from the rain. 

Though only a few kilometers wide, the sound (aka Piopiotahi) is almost 15 km (10 mi) long and has a maximum depth of almost 300 m (1000 ft). So the ferry set out along the western rim and would go as far as the outlet at the Pacific before following the eastern rim back to town.

The tea and biscuits in the heated interior would be put to good use as the only places to take photos were from the exposed roof, the exposed bow, and a covered outdoor area at the stern. As the catamaran left port, we quickly explored the small boat to scope out all the options. It was rainy, windy, and cold but as we cruised, the rain would subside and amazingly the clouds lifted a bit.

Our captain pointed out that when you visit Milford Sound - one of the wettest locations on earth - there are only two types of weather. Sunny with no waterfalls, or rainy with waterfalls. We had tons of waterfalls. Again, the cord-like streaming rivulets were on every single rock face on both sides of the mighty fjord. That isn't an exaggeration. Several wider, giant waterfalls raged from hidden overhead origins. Some waterfalls crashed into the fjord. Others were overpowered by the wind and were blown apart into drifts of water vapor. These were pushed back up and over the top of the waterfall, before finally dissipating into thin air.

And yet, the record 24-hour rainfall is a whopping 1.2 m (4 ft). A lot more than the 100 mm creating this day's spectacle.

At one point, Grace and I headed to the bow of the boat early in the journey. We were approaching a gushing waterfall. What we didn't realize is that the captain is able to pilot the boat almost all the way up to the rock face due to the steepness of the cliffs plummeting into the Sound. So as we and some other passengers enjoyed the views, the captain steered the catamaran directly toward the waterfall. The power of the water coming off the falls was literally breathtaking in its force; wave after wave of water buffeted us with its own wind. Our raincoats and pants were drenched; you couldn't even face the waterfall owing to the intensity of the spray. Such is the epic force of nature!

Thank goodness I had left my camera with Stan and Pola!

As we came back down the eastern rim (after enjoying the soaking spray of a second waterfall), we pulled into a small cove. Per the captain, it's the only place in the fjord you could go ashore - or even use an anchor. In the back of the cove, the captain pointed out three small fjordland penguins! They are quite rare at this time of year, usually having aleady migrated south for the summer. But here they were with their snazzy yellow "eyebrows", enjoying a great day at the beach in the rain. What a life.

It's impossible to portray in text how amazing the fjord was, with its "weeping" mountains and black waters. The 90 minute cruise was gone in a flash but the indelible memories will continue forever. Honestly, I would love to do it again in the rain, well-dressed, in order to capture the full force and majesty of this incredible geologic feature in all its glory. 

A weka bird met us at our car to bid us farewell after a quick stroll around the ferry landing. We drove back to the tunnel and as we waited, a small flock of Kea were wandering amongst (/on top of) the queue of cars, curiously looking into everyone's windows. Does this land ever cease to amaze?

The next day we would depart New Zealand, the magnifcent land of glaciers, fjords, waterfalls, and earthquakes. So after our four-hour drive home, we sat around at our Queenstown hotel eating leftover backpacking food (tuna on sourdough anyone?) and New Zealand snacks, admiring the sunset behind the Remarkables and Lake Wakatipu. I was curious what everyone's favorite thing was. For Stan, it was climbing the Harris Saddle on the Routeburn track. For Grace, it was Milford Sound. Pola loved the Tasman Glacier. And for me, it was cresting the knob going up to the Mueller Hut. Something for everyone. It's a shame we only covered a small smidgen of New Zealand in our week here. One senses it was just the tip of the iceberg. But I'm so happy to have done it - and that I could do it with such great friends. Hopefully I'll be able to come back again soon and see more.

Next time, I turn my attention to Melbourne, Australia, a city with a population equal to the entire population of New Zealand. And now for something completely different, as they say...

The Routeburn Track

 If you will allow me to digress from the usual chronological flow of my blog (actually, you have no choice, sorry), I will skip slightly ahead to our second great block of adventure: the Routeburn Track. I'll return to the journey from Aoraki/Mt Cook in my next post and tie it in with a recap on Queenstown and Milford Sound.

We woke up at the confusingly named Melbourne Lodge Hotel in Queenstown, New Zealand. The previous night we had repacked our bags for backpacking and so, after popping to a grocery store and finally acquiring the elusive powdered milk for Granola's granola, we saddled up and headed north out of Queenstown.

We had an hour drive to the trailhead for the Routeburn Track. The road followed along the edge of Lake Wakatipu, the serpentine, glacial lake on which Queenstown is located. The translucent turquoise water showed stunningly beautiful whitecaps in the wind. Overhead we had sun, but misty clouds lay ahead in the distant mountains. After passing the northern tip of the lake, we entered a wide and rocky river basin down which the Dart River ambled. Looking across these flats to the mountains on the other side was exciting because this was the filming location for Isengard in the Lord of the Rings films. You could picture Saruman's tower domineering over the landscape; the ents emerging from Fangorn forest and tearing down a dam to flood the plain. Only today there are no remnants of the filming from 25 years ago; Google Maps includes a landmark called Isengard Lookout, but not even a single placard marks the space today.

We parked the car at the trailhead, which had a beautiful pavillion with signboards advocating for the protection of New Zealand's endangered species. There are no native small mammals on the South Island, so introduced species of rats, stoats, possums, and cats wreak havoc on the island's native birds. As a result, around 8 or 10 bird species are threatened or endangered, including birds like the aforementioned Kea, the Whio (a blue duck), the Morepork (an owl species), along with well-known species like the Kiwi and Kaka. Throughout our trip we heard several presentations and read many signs regarding efforts to control preditor populations. The DOC has thousands of traps set throughout the national parks and checks them on a monthly basis. It's great to see how serious New Zealand is about protecting its native fauna and I hope their efforts prove successful.

Setting out from the trailhead, we immediately realized that this would be a much different environment than we had experienced in Aoraki. Rather than the dry semi-arid grasses of the Hooker Glacier valley, we found ourselves in a lush temperate rainforest. Tall beeches created a high canopy over a densely ferny understory. Every surface was covered in olive-green moss, from the tree trunks to the ground. As a very mature forest, blow-downs and shattered tree trunks filled the forest, but nothing here was freshly fallen; everything was rotting and covered in moss.

The Routeburn Track is what they call a Great Walk in New Zealand, one of several multi-day backpacking tracks through the Southern Alps. In total, this end-to-end track is a couple dozen kilometers and I believe it usually takes 3 days to complete. The trail roughly followed the Routeburn, a mighty glacial river, on its way up into the high peaks. There it followed a ridge up to The Divide of New Zealand before descending down into the Milford Sound valley. More on that in the next blog. There are 3 or 4 huts along the route where backpackers can overnight. We had unfortunately been unsuccessful in booking huts along the entire route and therefore our plan was not to do the entire Routeburn Track. Instead, we would backpack in to the Routeburn Flats hut where we would spend two nights before exiting the way we entered. We would day-hike from our outpost, covering a bit more of the Routeburn Track.

Everything in the rainforest was damp or dripping. The mist and rain we anticipated on the way in wasn't too bad, but nonetheless the wetness abounded in the forest. The track went up gently and wound through the forest until we came around a corner and were met with the first of several wonderfully wobbly suspension bridges. At each bridge, the raging and tumbling Routeburn gushed with foamy white water, bashing and tumbling violently down the forested gully. Each bridge offered me a chance to relive my doctorate as our heavy packs easily excited the structures vertically and laterally.

Before too long the narrow gully started to open up. We were on the left bank heading upstream, still in the woods, but on the right the river flattened out in a wide flood plain. A steep but short conical mountain could be seen across the flats; in this plain, the main branch of the Routeburn intersected with the North Branch prior to funneling out the way we had ascended. This was the Routeburn Flats and we arrived at the hut bearing its name.

Imagine the conical mountain at the center of the flats, flanked on the north by the North Branch and on the west by the main river. The flats were huge, yet roughly horseshoe shaped, wrapping around this conical mountain. The flats had no trees; only vast swaths of grass on the perfectly flat terrain. This was in sharp contrast to the steep, forested walls of the valley on the outside and the conical mountain on the inside.

The Routeburn Flats hut was situated just on the edge of the flats, tucked into the trees. I would say the hut was maybe just a meter or two above the level of the swiftly flowing Routeburn. The hut featured three buildings. One, a three-hole latrine with flush toilets (luxury!!). The next was the main quarters with a sheltered outdoor area for day hikers, a kitchen with steel sinks and gas stoves (luxury!!!!), a common dining room with old-fasioned iron fireplace, and two bunk rooms with cushy mattresses (luxury!!!!!!). Finally, a small building served as quarters for a full-time DOC warden (Mitch) who looked after the site and gave us lovely endangered species talks.

On one such talk, Mitch informed us that the huts used to have lead nails. The DOC discovered that the Kea population was contracting lead poisoning and, after minimal investigation, it was found that the parrots had been pulling the nails out of the roof panels. Not only was this detrimental to the parrots, but it had been causing leaks in huts throughout New Zealand....

The walk in had not been arduous by any definition (admittedly I haven't consulted my crew for their concurrence on this statement), but we settled in and made ourselves at home. We enjoyed some tea, snacks (coconut date balls, chili almonds, and Whittaker's NZ chocolate slab), and photography, opting to enjoy a casual long evening looking out the hut window rather than pursuing additional walks. With card games, crosswords, amazing window views, and fellow hikers to entertain us, the time passed quickly. Dinner evolved into nighttime and soon it was off to bed.

Where the evening had brought beautiful skies, the night brought rain. I awoke in the middle of the night to lightning and thunder powerful enough to shake my bunk. Stan and I had independently wondered if it was an avalanche or earthquake - but ultimately we decided thunder was the only cause. But thunder was the least of the impacts. With approximately 70 mm (3 in) of rain overnight, the idyllic Routeburn overtopped its banks; the Flats were awash with angry flood waters. Thankfully the hut was well out of the way, but it became obvious why the flats were as flat as they were: so much sediment coming down from the high peaks being deposited at this bottleneck in the river. The forces of nature are truly inspiring.

It came to light that poor Pola was on day one of illness, so Stan, Grace, and I would day hike while she "manned the fort". It was really sad that she couldn't join us, but there are certainly worse places to be holed up with a cold than the scenic Routeburn Flats hut.

The three of us set out after a massive granola and powdered milk breakfast. We were head to toe in waterproofs as the day promised to hit the dreaded trifecta of cold, windy, and rainy weather. In the steady rain, we headed west along the banks of the Routeburn, climbing through the forest and occasionally crossing the river by more suspension bridges. A few kilometers in, we reached the Routeburn Falls hut, a veritable hut complex next to an incredible surging waterfall. Climbing up and over the waterfall, we exited the forest in favor of a rugged yellow-brown marshy grassland. "Hills" on both sides and in front of us bounded the river valley, which twisted out of view to the right. We continued near to the still-surging Routeburn, but we wondered where all this water was coming from since we could see the ridge above us.

The trail sloped up along the walls of the rounded valley and unfortunately it had become a stream in its own right. Along the way, I noticed we were walking on some of the most interesting rocks and minerals. First we had a stretch of delightfully light green granular rock, which Stan and I agreed was likely due to copper content. Then we entered into a stretch of tantalizingly deep purple rock, similar to the color of Amythyst, but opaque. These rocks occasionally had marble seams. Also there were some sections with quartz. Finally, higher still, we found shiny grey rocks which were almost metallic in nature. As you can tell, I have yet to do the back research on all this great geology, but when I do, I'll add a brief addendum to the bottom of the post.

We have no doubt that the color of the rocks and minerals were improved by the wet conditions. It had continued to spit rain and in some sections we were met with showers. As we gained elevation, the wind picked up; I found myself persistently adding and removing a winter hat and my raincoat hood in various combinations, attempting to balance body temperature, outdoor temperature, and the inconsistent rain.

But for all that, we were having fun as we gained remarkable views. Below us we could finally see the winding oxbow path of the Routeburn through this upper valley. And ahead, we finally found the source of this mighty river: Harris Lake. Our trail did not go to the shores of Harris Lake, but above it, along some bluffs. What was interesting is that this glacial-fed lake sat at approximately El. 1000 m (3000 ft), well above the upper Routeburn valley (maybe El. 900 m) or the Routeburn Flats (El. 700 m). Similar to the Sealey Tarn, this Lake had been captured by a long, narrow outcrop, which limited the outflow of the lake to a very narrow funnel. But unlike the Tarn, which had a tiny surface area, Harris Lake was truly expansive. If we had to guess, Stan and I would say it was probably on the order of a half mile long by maybe a quarter mile wide. Under the dramatically cloudy skies in this damp yellow-brown terrain, the lake took on a dark, turbulent slate-grey appearance: mysterious and tempestuous.

Following the bluffs high above the lake was a windy endeavour, but rounding the corner, we had reached Harris Saddle. We walked up to an enclosed day shelter and, going inside, we were immediately met with a grim collection cold, soaked, and dejected backpackers. Indeed, we were fairly wet and cold too, but thankfully the fact that we were day hiking had kept our spirits high. Most of these poor backpackers had spent their way picking their way along the far side of the ridge, being buffeted by the wind, and walking entirely in cloud. No views, no warmth, no fun.

Indeed, it was warmer in the hut than outside, but it was certainly not warm. Sitting there eating lunch made us all cold and the humidity from all the steaming hikers made everything sticky. We didn't stay long.

On the bright side, when we set out again, the rain had largely stopped. We walked about a half kilometer along the ridge just to get a taste (cloudy, rugged, grassy) before turning back the way we had come. The trail back to the Routeburn Flats hut was largely uneventful aside from taking some selfies with my favorite rocks. Of course, uneventful does not mean uninspiring.

That evening, we again enjoyed dehydrated hiker meals. I had some carbonara thing augmented with more Whittaker's chocolate slab and other snacky treats. We worked on - and failed at - a crossword puzzle by candlelight. As we prepared to turn in, I went out to the toilets. On my way back, I heard a squawking in a tree just in front of me. Turning on my light, I looked up at the low branches and there were not one but two tiny Morepork owls! I suspect I accidentally blinded them but they were very patient as I took a few photos. I was super happy to see two of this amazing and uncommon bird hanging out at our hut!

The morning of the third day was getaway day. My boots were still soaked through so I deployed my hiking sandals to great effect, sloshing through every puddle and stream in utter defiance. Spirits were again high and we had a lovely walk back through the rainforest. We took a little side nature trail and saw some fantails flitting from tree to tree, fanning their tails in a showy black and white display. We enjoyed the sights and scenes, but most importantly we enjoyed being in each others' company. 

That night, as I started to come down with the same cold, we picked up venison and beef burgers from Fergburger in Queenstown and we took them to a permanently moored bar boat on the water. The scene was utterly splendid with the late day sun hitting the bright light-blue water, the undulating Remarkables mountain range providing a perfect backdrop. We also went to Patagonia Ice Cream and I enjoyed a dulce de leche scoop on top of a kind of carmel/chocolate swirl scoop in a chocolate dipped waffle cone.

This is the life!