Beqa Shark Dive

So on my return to mainland Nadi I have managed to pick up my very first travel bug, it leaves me stricken to the confines of the hostel and its immediate proximity, I only venture out to town in order to stock up on water and to book a very special trip. I soon realised that this hostel is essentially a stop off for travellers before island hopping, people come and go but they don't linger. It is ok though because my special trip will be to a place called Beqa, it has a reputation for it's shark dives. This is perhaps the only thing I actually planned to do before I left the UK; to swim with Bull and Tiger sharks, no cages, just watching them feed.

A few days later I make my way into Nadi feeling tired, I havent eaten too much lately and what I have hasn't stuck, but I get on my bus ok and make my way trailing the coastline, It drops me off on dusty straight and walk a few miles to a big compound, it's spread out with a restaurant area overlooking a slim stretch of beach where a few horses roam. The sea is calm, the skies are cloudy giving the water a muddy quality, a indecisive breeze disturbes the palms and seabirds are calling some way off. I am up at the dawn for my shark dive, I have a shower and get stung by a bee, once at the diveshop I am quickly fitted for equipment and sent onboard the hydrofoil with a dozen other divers. during the voyage a Califonian enquiries about my toenails that are now a mutted red, momentos from Justine and the Kiwi Poo Party, I am not sure if he believes my answer. The boat's engine is cut in the middle of a bay, I am amazed it really isn't that far from shore, the Instructor gives us the most intense safety talk i've had to date, he explains that with the 'big fish' around it is a natural response to get excited, thus depleting air sooner than normal, he informs us there will be a tank tethered below the boat at the safety stop depth however this is a last resort because going for the tank, singles you out and the wooden sticks used to prod over ambitious sharks will only do only so much. If the local tiger shark comes by we are instructed to stay very still hugging the seabed because she likes to glide directly over divers, she likes our bubbles against her belly. This is a scenario where buoyancy control is very important!

We suit up and jump in, the waves bob us about and there is greasy skick on the surface. This the scariest bit, out of my element knowing full well that directly below are apex predators. As we submerge I have problems equalising and trail behind the rest of the group so its a while until I see my first spectre directly in front of me but some way off so I don't appreciate the size of the thing at first, very quickly more and more become visible. I join the rest of the group on a makeshift wall of rocks and coral infront of me is a dustbin that is being circled by large carnivorous fish and sharks, so many bull sharks I give up trying to count them all. But I can now appreciate their size and sheer bulk, the bigger ones are at least 3 meters and so thickset. The dustbin is opened and the instructor feeds the sharks throwing chunks of fish above our heads, jaws open revealing a lot of gum and the multiple rows of teeth, the jaws shut, the sound of bones crunching travels well under the waves. The circling becomes more frantic and some inquisitive individuals are gently tapped with the sticks and I sample the power from their retreating tail snap that forces water in my direction, they are a very intimidating presence and I am awestruck, mesmerised but not nearly as afraid as I had been on the surface unable to see, I do remember grasping a fist sized rock during one particularly close encounter,  I think for support more than anything. The first dive is over too quickly and I am last to leave the wall a couple of silhouettes seem to follow but they shooed away by two guys with sticks bring up the flank.

Back on the boat I can't wait for my next dive, whilst he is trying to tuck into the tea and fruit I quizz the poor instructor on everything he know on the sharks; among other things he tells me that Bull Sharks love the shallows and are opportunistic which means they often share waters with swimmers. That as long as a Tiger Shark is ample food it won't stop growing and the local one is bigger than the boat I am on! He explains how female Tigers produce many eggs but only yield two pups, one from each uterus. This is because the pups develop in the womb with embryonic teeth and cannibalise their brothers and sisters. They need to build up their strength because often during birth the mother will detect her own blood and instinct resulting in mother eating her own pup she has spent months carrying. The second dive dive I am just as enthralled with the experience, we do our safety stop on shallow coral where reef shark patrol when literally an arms length away from me a Pacific Green Eel emerges between rocks, It is huge bigger than me and just as wide and still more of its body is hidden in the coral. It has risen higher than us, the instructor throws a few chunks it's way and the eel's cruel mouth snaps catching the meat in needle teeth. When I return to Nadi I don't have long to wait to be reunited with Andy and Alana, I find Eliza and Amy from the Kiwi group too, we drink and watch the fire dancing  I bore everyone with shark facts.

All Rights Terry Goss

All Rights Michael Patrick O'Neil

The Mamanuca Islands

We had decided to escape the city and have an island hoping adventure; Andy, Alana and myself had managed to negotiate a good price with a animated local travel agent who kept referring to Andy as Mr Downies, and would exclaim 'good boy' whenever we made a decision. The only vice was the boat would be much smaller than what most would be sailing on. At dawn the next morning the skies were clear and we waded into the sea to meet our boat, halfway through our trip the engine cut out so we sat on the bow for a few hours drifting towards the volcanic archipelago looking at the clear waters and occasionally a turtle would surface, we tried to incise them with banana skins bait. Eventually our boat was rescued by another equally small one and we hoped ship with our precious backpacks and some island supplies following.

Our first island was Mana. It was split into a expensive gated resort (complete with landing strip) and the far more fun backpacker part where you could knock coconuts from trees, drink the milk, relax in creaky sandblasted hammocks and swig on Bounty while watching the locals perform fire and knife dances by night. We circled the island perimeter walking over its rocky fringes made slippery by the ocean spray and on the outer most fingers crabs would scuttle at your presence and we startled a banned sea snake who made a hasty retreat. A coral shelf encompassed the entire island and a good way out you could hear the roar of waves erupting against it, a fine mist was pulled from the crest of each wave and taken by the wind. Mana was incredible for snorkelling, if you persisted in the gauntlet of shallow sharp coral you eventually came to more expansive reef shimmering with as many scales and aquatic life as some of the best dive sites. For a while we watched on the edge of the surface as trumpetfish tried to snatch at a school as individuals broke the surface and glided from danger. We were in the water for a long time and Alana tended to stayed closer to the shore whereas Andy and I followed the reefs contours towards where the waves broke on the search for bigger fish.  It was when we were focusing our attentions on a particularly mesmerising porcupine fish when below we saw a long slender shadow glide towards and under our feet. It was a Backtipped reef shark, just over a meter long but stocky and it slipped directly beneath us completely unfazed by our presence and disappeared into a fissure in the reef. During the encounter we had both tried to convey excitement which was essentially muffled high-pitch gargling so pulling our heads from the water both amazed, we communicated this emotion in English, high-fived and duck dived down to try and follow but our big fish had gone.

We had even greater luck on Beachcomber an absolutely minuscule spec of earth that you can walk around in 10 minutes flat, the kind of place postcards are made for and the resort catered equally well for both honeymooners and grubby backpackers with airy timber cabins surrounded by palms and choc full of bunkbeds. We were fed all you could eat buffets throughout the day however I failed to take advantage because there was far too much going on under the sea. Once flippers were snapped on and masks polish with fresh spit we plunged our faces into the water, at first the floor was sandy with stingrays and trumpet fish but further out the coral slowly emerged from the sand until it stepped down a level and it was here on the outer limits between the shallow and deeper water where the reef sharks patrolled. They cruised so close to me I felt a ripple of agitated water made by the caudal fin, so close I could have reached out and grabbed it. Throughout the snorkel we saw about four Whitetips and one Black. I pushed hard to try and follow the Blacktip but it clearly didn't want to be chased and was a sizeable creature so I decided it was best give up. One of the Whitetips did allow me to be its shadow as it prowled the reef, it moved over the reef effortlessly almost lazily but now and then would turn with sudden agility sometimes heading straight for me. It fascinating to see it negotiate the coral searching and I saw it burst for the coral and feed on something with white flesh that crack between its jaws. In the evening we sat in a corner of the main building that had view to the shore whilst a band played, It was a good time to for three friends to talk about nothing. Later we walked around to the island's most isolated point, a fresh wind was stirring the sea and the night had settled and shrouded the island causing the occasional stumble but to look up the night was so bright with stars, they always amaze me, we sat for a while sipping from beer bottles, gazing.  

The next day I felt like Robinson Cruisoe as I stood on the shore and waved goodbye to Alana and Andy, they were continuing their island hopping further North, my funds were all but diminished so I couldn't follow. It was strange to be suddenly alone but in a way liberating, after eating my first solitary meal in seven months I rented a kayak and paddled to a unexplored location, tying one end of a rope round my ankle the other to the kayak and dived in to see what I could find.

By midday I was on my way to Bounty, my final island in the Mamanuca, of course I spent most of my time snorkelling here too, I found that just relaxing and swaying with the motion some wildlife would reveal themselves to you; I saw Green Sea Turtles, Bicolour Surf Parrotfish, Painted Rock Lobster, Titan Triggerfish, Blacksaddle Coral Grouper and even a Lionfish, I had never seen one before and it was a shame there was no one to share the find with. Back on land I got chatting with couple of Israelis and later a girl who was just starting out on her travels, she asked for advice and I gave what I could, it felt like everything had come full circle from that time that seems so long ago when Surinder had given two wide eyed travellers his advice way back in Goa. But on the whole Bounty was a fairly uneventful but reflective time for me. I was acutely aware that this journey was nearing an end. The few nights I stayed I sat in a hammock until nightfall; reading, thinking, writing and watching a bloated sky pregnant with light slowly extinguish.

Nadi

So we had reached Fiji  first few days in Nadi there was a sheet of grey cloud and heavy rain however the evenings still yeiled impressive sunsets. We stayed on the outer rim of the town by the beach, it wasn't the most beautiful location, the waters were murky and the sand a dirty brown. The shore was littered with fish guts, leftovers from the fishermans' catches. In the evening locals rode sandbikes that looked like they had been driven straight out of a Mad Max set. This was an active fishing spot but I would always choose stepping on fish entrails over it becoming a sterile behemoth of a holiday resort as the billboards in the area suggested it could soon be.

 Jumping on an old school bus we made our way to town collecting locals here and there and passing a few seaplanes on the coast. The town had a relaxed atmosphere but was still busy with people, the buildings were painted in bright colours and old school coca cola stencils that were now very washed out. Soon as left the bus we experienced the friendliness the Fijians seem to be well known for, everywhere we went someone would shout "bula!" and everyones overly helpful with everything, It was obvious that this was at least in part because we had cameras on our shoulders and packs on our back but still the majority seemed genuinely warm and welcoming and before we knew it Alana, Andy and myself found ourselves sat crossed legged centred around a large wooden bowl inside a woodcraft shop hosted by two Fijians who looked like they would be good at rugby. We were given Carva in a 'ritual' Its a weird herb strained in water that made your mouth tingle. After refreshments the shopkeeper showed us replicas of the traditional war masks and weapons. There was the numerous types of club made from heavy woods, It appeared they had one for every purpose; the Tebetebe for example has been carved with an angled edge on one side designed to snap the neck, the Totokia on the other hand is implemented for the sole purpose of bludgeoning the skull. These are all genuinely weapons used in the past, perhaps the most macabre of all was the spiky looking tool about carving knife sized. This was for scooping brain out from the skull, it surprised me because I was expecting more of a ice cream scoop shape or maybe just use a shell?

The Beautiful bits

It needs to be said just how beautiful New Zealand truly is, seriously everywhere you look its stunning. so I guess a picture speaks a thousands words.


The Land 

When you walk in this Tongariro National Park you are walking on active volcanoes. How amazing is that! and not just any volcanoes; Mount Ngaruruhoe is Mount Doom! here is a few views from the park

The Coast

The Lakes

The Big Green F*** Bus

Queenstown

Queenstown is a place for the adrenaline junkie. Its sits in the basin of great hills that have been carved by the elements and the scenery is reflected in Lake Wakatipu a 360m deep 290km2 mass of water left by a series of glaciers. We climbed through the forest along some long redundant rusty pipeline to stand at the crown of one of the taller hills, the summit gave perfect views and you could see choppers gliding low hugging the hills, their shadows dancing over the mountainous terrain. There were small skydiving planes soaring higher, in the lake a few sailing boats slice through the mirror like surface.

This place is also renowned for it’s nightlife, so naturally we came across Alana Shoosmith once more. Our evenings we drank from ice glasses in the Icebar, took shots from teapots in worldbar and got thrown off a bucking bronco in Cowboy bar. This was also where our fellowship of backpackers we had spent weeks with would disband and go our own ways, but we went out with a bang.   

The Nevis

I am sat inside a fourwheel drive bus that has seen better days as it rumbles and coughs along the narrow ledge. The overwhelming majority of my fellow passengers look tense and wide eyed. Josh has clamy hands, Amy has tears of fear and I know Andy better than to believe his apparently nonchalant appearance. We reach the summit and for the first time can appreciate the size of the chasm we are about to be bungy jumping into. Dropping 134 meters it’s the world’s second largest true bungy. We lock in our harnesses, (one that was going to be given out is taken back when they notice brown marks on the lower straps).

The jumpzone is suspended on wires over the centre of the gorge, once inside the box you stand on the clear bottom that reminds you what you’re in for, loud music is thumping. The roster of jumpers is pinned to the wall, heaviest go first, 72kg put me towards the end, when your time comes they take you across the barrier towards the big open hole and sit you in something resembling a dentist chair that wobbles and behind your head is the drop. Once the cord is attached you shuffle towards a short plank. and then it is all on you, two minutes to decide whether to drop or not. Some people jump right out, others their knees seem to buckle and fail them and they collapse down.

Believe it or not, all things considered I was calm for this one and just looking forward to the drop, but telling the truth I did get a little unnerved when I saw the first jumper and just how close he came to the ground. When it finally came to my go, sitting in that chair I saw just how thin the cord was and that it was essentially made out of lots of rubber bands twinned together. I moved to the end of the plank and felt the breeze. I stared down at the tips of my converses balanced just over the edge, then shifted focus to the ground below, it is defiantly a mental challenge more than anything else. I looked up towards the mountains in the distanced and jumped for them. The 8.5seconds freefall was over so quick but what a rush. You feel so alive when you think you might die. The first second or so after you have made the decision is the best, because the attachment is around your ankles you don’t feel like you’re attached. That sense of falling is indiscrible but I will try; as you plummet through the air head first the ground rushes up to meet you. Your brain is in overload taking it all in. I remember the boulders and rocks, I remember the detailed patches of moss growing over them and the stream of turbulent cold water that was only knee deep and would do little to break a fall. I was coming closer but the bungy had already kicked in and I was decelerating. On the next few bounces I better took in my surrounding and felt amazing and giddy from the blood pooling in my head. Pulling the leash attached to my ankle I flipped right way up and was hauled back to the platform. On our return to Queenstown we celebrated with Fergbugers.  

   

Franz Josef

Franz Josef is a little town that lies in the shadow of the snow capped Alps. These mountains are only 300 meters above sea level meaning that within the space of a day you can walk on a glacier, journey though temperate rainforest and then go scuba diving in the ocean (definitely going to try that one day). Amy, Eliza, Andy and I stayed in a snug timber cabin. We also soaked in the outdoor hot tub and drank Tui in the bar whilst the log fire thawed our limbs (the south island is very cold).

The next morning was very special, At the crack of dawn we took off by helicopter into the mountains. The journey was amazing and I have decided that helicopters are the coolest form of transport. Once strapped in we pulled down our headsets which did little to drown the noise of the whirring rotorblades but you could hear everything the pilot could. Once the skids left the ground we hovered for a few seconds, tilted and spun in the direction of the Alps. The chopper had a large windscreen so it felt like I was moving in a bubble passing over the dark forest canopies, through wispy clouds and onto the white mountain of snow and ice. After touching down we strapped on our crampons and started the trek; scaling the ice walls, walking through archways sculpted from the ever shifting river of frost; the whole 80 meter deep ice sheet creeps down the mountain a meter or so every day. We explored further into the interior of the glacier carefully avoiding the occasional perilous fissure that bore deep and act as drainage basins, you really don’t want to fall down one of those because they might not be able to get you out. At some points you walked between great ruptures in the ice squeezing along a path that is only as wide as your boots. Here the compaction is so great the glassy ice gives off a bluish hue and the ice is so smooth it is like walking amid two colossal ice cubes. I wanted to see the figure of a caveman or at least a mammoth staring back at me through the frosty window, I had no such luck.

Equipped with a pick axe our guide chiseled a path through the ice maze, he told us to stay close because it is so easy to take a wrong turn and get lost here. Eventually we clambered into the sunlight and were better able to take in the sheer scale of what we stood on. It was an epic slope of ice stretching higher towards the mountain’s summit and out of view. On either side of the glacier and running parallel where jagged ridges, their black rocks stood in stark contrast against the white stuff. Every now and then you would see a helicopter beside the ridgeline banking and yawing up towards the nevus. Whilst we waited for our chopper back to Franz Josef we got to break up plates of ice with the pick axe. The ice sheet had breached from the glacier at an angle and was thick enough to stand on. The first impact connected with a dull resonating sound creating fractures in the ice, the second blow saw a substantial slab split off and many smaller fragments shatter, it’s a very satisfying way to let off steam.

Once back in town our whole bus warmed up in the luxury hot baths with different temperatures all the way up to 42 degrees. Leaving the hot baths steam rose from my shoulders and I looked back at the ice mountains reflecting the in the last light.

Wanaka

The evening of our arrival I went for a run with a few of the lads. We jogged alongside one of Wanaka’s lakes that mirrored the neighboring mountains, after many strides these mountains had turned to silhouettes of sentinels watching over the town and the clouds had turned crimson with the setting sun, It looked like some kind of CGI from a big budget movie.

The next morning it rained hard so we entered Puzzleworld one of the few sights around. It was set up by a slightly eccentric Englishman and had been drawing in curious travelers ever since. Inside there are lots of illusions and oddities such as the room where water appears to cascade upstream and balls roll uphill, a room where the eyes of figures follow you wherever you move and my favourite a room that tricks your eye into seeing a two people of similar size become giant and hobbit, this technique was used by Peter Jackson in The Lord of The Rings, It makes for pretty cool photos.

Poo Party

Our bus continued south through Greymouth and Westport. Flea explained to us that due to these towns remote and isolated location the sparsely populated towns where full of inbreds. To begin with I thought she was joking but as we probed further into town Flea played spot the inbred and with relish pointed out people starring out from their porches. It had all gone a bit Deliverance and I half expected to hear the twang of a banjo showdown. 

On the fringes of town we stayed in shacks owned by New Zealand’s oldest publican. Les is a short grumpy old man with a bushy grey beard, means well but is very set in his ways. Once settled we played touch rugby on the beach until light disappeared and then we started got ready for the evening.

It was our bus’s fancy dress night and you had to go as anything that started with the first letter of your name. We had one hour to unearth our attire from the salvation army’s clothes bins and I was pretty slow off the mark. I considered; Jesus, Jay-Z and Julius Caesar but going for broke deciding on Jasmine from Aladdin (we had watched it a couple of nights ago). To be honest my transformation wasn’t the most convincing and I defiantly didn't pull it off as well as some of the ladyboys in Thailand. I our room we had a bee, a school girl and Josh and Andy became little red riding hood and the wolf which had nothing to do with their names but looked good anyway. We got to the bar early and quenched our thirst with local ales and soon we were in the company of the spice girls, Jessi J, Harry Potter, Corpse Bride, Amy Winehouse, Moses, Russell Brand and a carrot to name a few. It was a night not easily forgotten, especially since Jasmine’s blood red nail varnish stubbornly remains on my toes as the last remnant of the evening.

Abel Tasman Skydive

Crossing a very choppy Cook Strait we had arrived in the South Island and were on course for Kateriteri, that's when Flea received a text asking whether anyone wanted to skydive in the late afternoon.
The rest is a blur, I think it was only about half an hour between realising "shit i'm doing a skydive" and actually being strapped into a harness and walked up to the aircraft. Because we were losing light they wanted to get us up as soon as possible so things on the ground happened too quick to take in; I remember tucking my knees up to my chin so other divers could squeeze in what can only be called a human sardine can. The plane’s propeller let rip and in no time we had taken off. At this point I was actually surprisingly level headed, even with the planes sharp banking as we continued to climb into the thermals.

I was in a dreamlike state admiring the views for the majority of the ascent right up to the point when our pilot muttered something and the doors where thrown open and wind blasted in. It was that wind and that gaping hole in the plane that made everything real again and made me truly understand what I was about to do. We were at 12,000ft and the training skydivers punched fists with me as a final farewell and one by one with no hesitation disappeared, I stayed glued to the opposite side to the door knowing it would be my turn in no time at all. We climbed ever higher and I remember asking my instructor in the most casual way I could to double check I was defiantly attached to him. We were now at such an altitude that oxygen masks were a necessity. I would be jumping at 16,500ft this would allow me 70 seconds of freefall (that is a long time if you sit back and count) and anything higher is generally reserved for the military. All too fast the doors snapped open, I saw Andy sit on the ledge drop and vanish behind the plane. I shuffled over towards that same ledge, my heart was racing, it still makes me tense up writing about it now, my legs where dangling over New Zealand, my jumpsuit rippling in the furious wind. I leaned back, then forward and I was in freefall. 

It is that first drop that is most scary; leaving the safety of something solid and familiar for the unknown. We were plummeting headfirst at the beginning. I remember the wind relentlessly resisting my descent; It pulled at my face and I tasted its moisture less dry air, soon the mushroom chute was deployed leveling us out. At this sort of height there isn’t really any sense scale so you can’t comprehend that you are falling. By now I was feeling absolutely pumped, I was flying, or falling with style! Taking a look around I could actually see the curvature of the Earth, directly below was the South Island’s mountains, the national park and ocean. In the distance I could just about make out the peak of Mount Doom (Mount Ngauruhoe) shrouded by cloud all the way in the north island. The sun was setting over the horizon and projected a river of golden light across a sea of cloud. In the opposite direction the moon had risen early and remained alone in the delicate blue. It was the quickest minute and ten seconds of my life and I was pulled back (with relief) as the parachute opened. My instructor guided us towards the landing zone and after checking if I get motion sickness pulled some G’s by swinging the parachute into tight spirals. We swooped towards the ground and slid along the grass until coming to a halt. This was such a rush and I remained in the clouds for the rest of the night.

River Valley

This was the most remote location on our Kiwi tour. We walked down a valley along a ragged path to which our bus could not follow. As we sank lower the land massed on either side continued to rise and tower over us. Next to the sleepy river responsible for sculpting this gorge was a small timber retreat, within it's walls were roaring log fires, long pine tables, a bar and a glum looking stag mounted above the stairs. Our group stayed in what is affectionately known as 'the orgy room' basically two shelves of anthropological proportions where about 40 of us could snuggle up over two tiers.

It also happened to be Flea's birthday so as soon as we had eaten, Spencer the barman invented a imaginative blend of shots. He was the perfect barman who drank as much as he served with a strict one for you one for me mentality. All throughout the night every drink I consumed was on the house (or on Spencer once his manager found out). Whilst pitchers emptied we danced about with Flea, climbed the rafters of the orgy room and got doused with Coco Cola, courtesy of Spencer who was now more steaming than any of his patrons.

I awoke shivering in my boxers and tried to wrestle some cover from my french neighbor but she was having none of it. I revived myself with a cold shower and decided to explore the great outdoors with Andy, German Katie and Austrian Christina. In order to follow the trail you must cross the river via an seasoned suspended pulley system. The river is calm and wide and also a hero as these same waters helped Frodo and Sam escape from the hoard of Uruk-hai that ultimately led to the destruction of the one ring of power and defeating the dark lord Sauron. Once across and humming the theme tune we pushed on up the steep valley over waterfalls and avoiding tumbling rocks. It is really beautiful here and we would have continued further into the forest but a sign warned us we were now entering hunting grounds and I didn't want to be mistaken for a stag.