Profits Of Doom

Whilst I was tramping in Fiordland I quickly realised that the month I had given myself for New Zealand was nowhere near enough. Certainly not enough to do half as many of the hikes as I would have liked. But, not being the master of my destiny on this occasion, there was little I could do but return quickly to Christchurch, retrieve my belongings, say my last goodbyes to Liam and Eila, and make my way to the North Island.* Although I was reluctant to leave the south so soon I was, at least, glad to experience the genuinely aestival weather of the north that allowed me to finally stow away my jumper.

Two ways of getting to Wellington: the Interislander ferry from the South Island (on the left), or on a huge cruise ship from Australia (on the right).

Little Britain

It's almost impossible to go anywhere further from the UK than New Zealand. This is to be the apex of my journey and from here on I will only be getting closer to home and a return to the "real world". I arrived in Christchurch on a cold, blustery New Years Day. Apparently someone had forgotten to tell them that it was supposed to be summer here in the southern hemisphere. But that didn't faze me too much as it just added to the feeling of being back in the UK. For a long time New Zealand styled itself as the Little Britain of the southern hemisphere, and nowhere is that spirit stronger than in Christchurch. Founded by an alumnus of Christ Church college Oxford the city boasts a very olde English atmosphere, with architecture, boutiques and parks that are reminiscent of the old country. Cricket, afternoon tea and well-tended gardens are very much the order of the day. In fact, for much of its independent history, New Zealand has seen itself as the "Britain of the southern hemisphere" with Christchurch the heart of that Britishness.

Christchurch cathedral, once the symbol of the city, but now nothing more than an empty shell  held up by  scaffolding. Its future, as well as that of the rest of the city centre, is uncertain.

Dangerous Island

Sumatra is a dangerous place. It's not the inhabitants though, but the island itself. Something deep down in Sumatra, more fundamental, geological, doesn't seem to like people. I've already mentioned the Boxing Day earthquake, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. There have been at lest half a dozen serious ones since then claiming a few thousand lives. Slightly further back in time southern Sumatra was host to the largest volcanic eruption of the past 180 years when the Krakatoa (aka Krakatau) volcano erupted violently in 1883. The explosion, which was heard up to 5000km away, became the first worldwide media sensation, claimed the lives of over 36,000 people, plunged the world into an ash-induced winter for several years, and even had a film made about it.

Intricate decorations adorning a traditional Batak house in the Toba area.

The Day The Earth Moved

Up until six and a half years ago Aceh was a name that few people knew. For years the region at the northern tip of Sumatra was a no-go area thanks to the Free Aceh guerrilla insurgency that was seeking independence for the region underpinned by discontent about central government appropriation of Acehnese resources (oil had been found offshore Aceh in the 70's), an influx of outsiders and a desire for a greater role for sharia in local law. The almost three decades of conflict had claimed some 15,000 lives. All that was to change on Boxing Day 2004 when the third largest earthquake ever to be recorded struck off the northwestern coast of Sumatra. The resulting tsunami spread far and wide, causing immense casualties in Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Somalia and even as far as South Africa. The brunt of nature's force, however, was borne by Aceh which experienced some 70% of the total 185,000 casualties and the capital, Banda Aceh, was almost wiped from the map.

The owners of this house probably weren't too pleased to find that someone had parked a boat on their roof despite the very obvious sign.

Float Like A Butterfly And Sting Like A Typhoon

Once I passed the the southern tip of Taiwan I was back in the western plain with its towns and cities that merge into each other. Kaohsiung is the island's second city and main port. If there was anywhere I was going to find a boat out of here it would be there. I wasn't feeling too hopeful though after contacting a shipping agent who specialises freighter travel who told me that due to the corruption and bribery that is endemic in the Philippines freighter companies refuse to take passengers: "in 18 years of Freighter Travel – we have NEVER been able to handle passengers to or from ports in the Philippines." The container port is vast and sprawling and impossible to get into, and there didn't seem to be a recognisable yacht harbour either (the concept of owning your own boat and sailing around, either to neighbouring countries or just within Taiwan, is not one that is much accepted in society and certainly not by the authorities). Instead I went to the customs office, and although the man I talked to was genuinely kind and wanted to help, it was not a situation that they are used to handling and could only give me the numbers of a couple of local yacht manufacturers in the off chance that they may be delivering vessels to the Philippines.

One of my favourite types of street food in Taiwan. The stall has all the ingredients set out in portions. You go around with a little basket and tongs (kindly modelled here by Adele), picking out whatever grabs your fancy (sausage, duck eggs, chicken ass, tofu, fish balls, chicken hearts, noodles, etc.) and then paying per item as they boil it up into a soup for you. Nice!