The Days of the Jaguar

Monday 15 August – Sylvia

We had an extremely early start with a 5am pick up from the hotel this morning. All went fairly smoothly with our flights from Rio to Brasilia and on to Cuiaba, where we were met by our guide for the next few days, Lucy.

Cuiaba is a small dusty city of roughly 600 thousand people out in the middle of Brazil. We headed out of town on the main highway that runs from Sao Paulo in Brazil all the way to Lima in Peru. After some time we turned off, heading to Pocone, the gateway to the Pantanal, where we stopped for a Brazilian style buffet lunch – think a very rough version of a Brazilian Churasco restaurant. The signs depicting male and female toilets were fairly self-explanatory.

We then left the sealed road behind and started the roughly three hour drive on the Trans-Pantaneira Highway to South Wild Pantanal Lodge where we will stay for the night. This area is a large flood plain and many of the bridges are being repaired and/or rebuilt but the road is generally in good condition. It is fairly flat and scrubby, punctuated with the occasional bright yellow or pink tree. We also pass several large, well-kept farms. Despite the traffic being fairly sparse, it is enough to paint the foliage up to 5m on either side of the road with a thick coat of fine, dull, brown dust.

We stopped often to look at a wide variety of birds as well as green iguana, capybara, pampas deer, marsh deer and South American coati. An over-abundance of caiman wallowed within striking distance of several very game birds, occasionally creating a bit of a ruckus. The large jabiru stork is impressive as is the rhea but I think our favourite birds were the roseate spoonbills, the female a dusky pink and the male pink with scarlet on his wings.

Sunbittern

Tiger Heron (juvenile)

Ringed Kingfisher

Guira Cuckoo

Wattled Jacana

Caiman

Roseate Spoonbill (female)

Jabiru Stork, Egrets, Roseate Spoonbill (male)

Jabiru Stork

Greater Rhea

At the lodge there are young jabiru storks in a nest right nearby. We also saw toco toucans in a tree right outside our door and capybara grazing on the lawn.

Toco Toucan

Chestnut Eared Aracari

After a few brief moments to unpack we headed off for a walk and then a wait in a hide, hoping to see ocelot. We spotted a couple of howler monkeys high in a nearby tree and several more birds but unfortunately the ocelot didn’t show today.

Tuesday 16 August

We hit the road on the back of a truck with seats for game watching for our three-plus hour journey to the Cuiaba River. We stopped numerous times to look at wildlife. At this time of year, with the hot season approaching, waterways are drying up so the game congregate in the pools that are left. Caiman congregated in their hundreds in some pools sharing the water with birds and fish.

The road was dirt with rickety wooden bridges in various stares of repair.

We stopped at one point to look at a bird and heard loud screaming. Looking through the scrub into a pool Giant Otters were making this noise.

A pair ok Hyacinth Macaws were kissing in a tree.

Just up the road a very rare tayra shot across the road.

Later a neotropical river otter crossed the road.

We saw many different birds.

Ringed Kingfisher

Yellow-billed Cardinal

Wood Stork

Black-Crowned Night Heron

Anhinga

Monk Parakeet

Arriving at Port Jofre, we boarded a small boat with Lucy, our guide, and Juninio, the boatman. Thirty minutes up the river we arrived at the Jaguar Suites, our floating lodge for the next few days.

After lunch and a short rest we again boarded our small boat heading up river. Caiman lined the river bank and floated along mid-river with just their eyes and head protruding; as the boat got really close they slipped quietly away.

We rounded corner to see three boats stopped and all cameras aimed toward the right bank. Geoff, a 10 year old Jaguar, had been spotted. As we watched he hunted the river bank. (All jaguars’ spots are different and in order to track and monitor the jaguar are named – roughly 150 individuals have been identified in this area over the last 10+ years).

More boats arrived, one with a big camera and another with seats and camera mounts for the long lenses.

Soon there were seventeen boats waiting for Geoff to make a kill as he hunted the shoreline. There were several attempts where we heard a loud splash and thrashing around in the long river grass. Each time the caiman or capybaras escaped. At one point Geoff stood poised on the rivers edge for sometime, then bounded across the shallows onto a caiman. When the water subsided the caiman was gone

We left the other boats to it and cruised on around the maze of rivers. We passed hundreds of caiman and the odd capybara at the water’s edge.

We then came across another boat with cameras pointed to the bank. On the bank lay Bianca, our second jaguar sighting today.

We moved on around the river through a side water full of caiman, then out to the main river channel.

Soon the driver spotted two more jaguar.The light was fading as we moved closer. The mother (we think) on the right moved off. The cub sat there and with the aid of the flash we got some good shots. The cub had a wound just above its back leg, we are told probably a Bot Fly infection.

As we headed back along the river a fiery red sun was setting

Back at the Lodge there was great excitement. After a study of our photos it was decided that we had spotted a never seen before jaguar. This apparently gives us naming rights.

Wednesday 17 August – Sylvia

The mornings start early here. We were off after breakfast for our first 4-hour boat jaunt by 7am. We spotted the hapless Geoff not far from camp, still trying unsuccessfully to hunt. He must be getting hungry by now. After trying on one river bank, he decided he might have more luck on the other side and proceeded to swim across the river right in front of us. Jaguars are clearly strong swimmers as despite the current and the onlookers he made it across in no time.

We headed on down the river passing all the usual suspects. We came across a very noisy Giant Otter. Growing up to 2m in length, they live in family groups and communicate a lot. This one had become separated from the rest of his small group and kept up a horrible squealing noise until he was reunited with them.

As we were heading back we came across a couple of Brown Capuchins in a tree. They are certainly cute although apparently also quite vicious.

Jeff was still hunting as we passed by on our way back for lunch, and still being watched by numerous boats. I really hope he catches something while we are all having our lunch break.

Heading back out on the water at 2pm we came across a much larger family of nine Giant Otters, fishing in the reeds along the side of the river. They make quite a sound crunching through the armoured catfish and are really fun to watch as they are very active and interactive with each other. They often pop their heads up to take a good look at us but seem totally unperturbed by our presence.

Our route this afternoon took us down several smaller, narrower waterways. Several times we hit the bottom as the water got shallower eventually having to turn around and back-track. Caiman continue to be a ubiquitous presence and we saw several large families of Cabybara including a large group swimming.

I can only guess the Jeff was successful in his hunting and was happily chowing down as there was no sign of him, or any other jaguar, this afternoon.

After some discussion today Roger and I finally agreed on names for the previously unnamed jaguar we found yesterday. There are quite a few rules – simple names that the guides can say, need to reference gender (so need to provide both a male and female name until gender can be determined) etc. Given that this trip started out as an add-on to watching Kirstie at the Olympics we felt it only fitting that if the cub is a female it should be called Kirstie, however the local boatmen had difficulty with that so we landed on Beka. And if it is a male we have decided to call it Roger – he is not quite sure how he feels about the idea of having “a large pussy named after him”!

Thursday 18 August

Bang on 7am Lucy, our guide, Juninio, our driver, and Suzanne, who is the resident biologist, were waiting in the boat.

The South Wild Jaguar Suites floating lodge is situated just up the Piquiri River. We headed down to the junction of the Cuiaba River turning right up stream. First stop was to take a look at Mick Jaguar sitting on the river bank. With a bunch of observer boats looking on he soon wandered into the jungle, I presume looking for Jerry Jaguar.

A few hundred meters up river, Geoff the Jaguar was strutting his stuff up the river bank. After a brief stop we carried on up the river taking in the scenery. There are lots or red flowered trees in which fire ants live symbiotically.

We passed some skimmer birds with chicks, which they rapidly tried to hide in the sand as we approached.

We cut down a small channel until we bottomed out before heading back. Mid-morning we hit caiman alley, as we have started to call it.

We spotted a green iguana on the bank. With its long tail and bright colours it stood out.

It was here I had the chance to have a close encounter with a caiman. The driver had brought the boat up to the bank so I could photograph the iguana. The boat drifted along a bit and a caiman laying on the bank edge just stayed put, apart from giving a hiss when we were less than a meter away he stayed put. They reckon there are about ten million of these in the Pantantal; the population has recovered since the banning of all hunting of any game in Brazil in 1967. Prior to that a million or so a year went into hand bags and shoes.

With this guy being so close I was able to see him/her clearly. Apparently you have to stick your fingers in its slits to find its sex organ and define the sex – we decided he/she may not like that. The teeth are designed just to catch from front or side, food is not really chewed but swallowed whole or in large chunks. It was good to to see the thick scales on body and feet close up.

Unlike a crocodile these guys get up high on all four legs and walk rather than waddle.

Cruising back down the river we spotted a roadside hawk who looked on curiously as I took his pic.

Cocoi herons space themselves at almost regular intervals along the river bank as though keeping watch.

We arrive back at the lodge at 11am and head out again at 2pm. I asked if it were possible to go for a stroll in the jungle. “No chance” was the answer “too many Jaguars”. The swimming question was one I didn’t need to ask. Caiman don’t generally attack people but you might step on one, then there are piranha, not to mention the sharp teeth of the giant otter. The lodge and the boat are the only safe places to be.

We took a cruise up the Piquiri river. Apart from a bunch of vultures on the first corner and the odd capybara there wasn’t much doing.

We headed back down and up the Cuiaba. A few kms up there was a bunch of boats watching Jaguar Maxime who was asleep back in the bush. Eventually he got up and wandered off into the jungle. The boats spread out up and down the river. Eventually we were flat out down stream turning up into the Three Brothers River.

A couple of kms up the river the boats were congregating again. Maxime had walked cross-country a few hundred meters. We had traveled several kilometres by river to reach the same spot. These rivers really snake their way through the land. Maxime lay down behind some vines on the river bank for all to see.

As the boats rocked up we were amused by the variety of anchors. In actual fact we did not see one real anchor. The most common were engine crank shafts; the others all varied. There were many more.

Maxime gave a good yawn then got up and moved upstream a hundred or so meters. Anchors were raised the boats moved anchors dropped again.

There were two boats from the National Geographic on the scene, one with a remote controlled video camera mounted in such a way that as the boat rocked the camera stayed still. The camera man told us they had been on the river for two weeks and were staying until the end of September filming jaguar. Another boat had a big remote controlled camera on an arm counterbalanced with gym weights.

Maxime moved a couple more times before the light started to fade and it was time to head back to the lodge. When these last pictures were taken he was only 25 yards away, not at all bothered by all the onlookers.

Friday 19 August – Sylvia

The morning here started a bit overcast but otherwise pleasant. A leisurely boat ride this morning took us past giant otter, several families of capybara, caiman and plenty of bird life. At one stage we came across the flotilla of boats that indicate a jaguar is nearby but we had missed it as it had just disappeared back into the scrub.

We wound our way down a different river system and came out at a large property with a very well-kept homestead including several residences for the workers; apparently it belongs to some wealthy bigwig farmer from near here.

This afternoon we headed off up the Piquiri River and soon bumped into another family of giant otter. After watching them we continued on and came across a large troop of brown capuchins. They had been drinking at the river but rapidly scarpered up the trees as we neared.

We turned back, heading for the Cuiaba River and came across the most amazing sighting – a huge yellow anaconda was on a sand bar, heading slowly towards the water. A sunbittern was displaying and clicking its beak, clearly agitated by the snake’s presence. This seemed a bit like taking a pocket-knife to a gunfight. Sunbitterns are amazing birds and twitchers try for years to get photos of them displaying and here we were with one and an anaconda to boot (at least 2m long). Lucy has been guiding here for 4 years and this was only her second anaconda. Eventually the anaconda made it past the bird to the water and we thought it was all over but then the bittern headed up to a bush and continued clacking its beak. With the binoculars we could see a second anaconda in the bushes trying to make its way to the water, but the bird was too much for it and it retreated into the bush. In this case it seems the pocket-knife won!

We headed off up the Cuiaba River where a jaguar and two cubs had been spotted but again arrived too late. After meandering our way around a few smaller rivers, with plenty of caiman and different birds we headed back. Rounding a bend we saw all the boats lined up again and between them and us a jaguar swimming across the river. We only had a brief viewing as it disappeared into scrub again once it reached the other side but it was a fitting end to a fantastic afternoon.

Orange Backed Troupial

Black Collared Hawk

Saturday 20 August

At seven am, bags packed and in the boat, we went for our final trip up river.

Ringed Kingfisher

Caiman were mainly in the water with just eyes protruding and slipping beneath the surface as we approached. A bunch of otters played alongside the riverbank screaming at each other when one got separated.

Soon we headed down stream to Porto Jofre to meet the truck. There are is quite a bit of activity here with several house boats, hotels and even an air strip.

A few hundred meters down the road some people had spotted a Jaguar across the river. The boatman was called on the radio and picked us up at a little jetty. We raced across the river by which time the Jaguar was gone.

Back on the truck some hyacinth macaws did a fly past as if to send us off.

A tiger rat snake lay on the road, a caracara standing near by as though challenging the snake.

We drove 150km across the flats recrossing the rickety bridges, slowing and often waiting for the dust to settle as oncoming vehicles passed us.

It’s hard to believe that by February this scrubby hinterland will be submerged in water, most of the road impassable.

Some locals were netting small fish in a pool, apparently used as bait to catch larger fish.

We stopped to look at, and photograph more birds.

Southern Lapwing

Capped Heron

Monk Parakeet

Black Crowned Night Heron Juvenile)

Neotropic Cormorant

Campo Flicker

Neotropic Cormorant

Rufous Hornero

Three and a half hours later we arrived back at the South Wild Pantanal Lodge to be greeted by capybaras grazing on the lawn.

After lunch we took a slow stroll with Lucy alongside the river and into the forest. It was great to be able to stretch our legs after four days in and on a boat. We spotted a tegu lizard who did his best to hide in the undergrowth.

Lucy pointed out various insects and plants including a close look at some carrot-scented termites who had built their mound in a tree.

At around 5pm we settled into a hide. Lucy had gone back to the camp to get water leaving Sylvia and i waiting just in case an ocelot appeared. A few minutes we later saw the shape of an agouti through the scrub coming along the track. It stopped and froze just before the clearing, then took off in fright. A minute of so later the first ocelot appeared.

It was soon scared off by people coming along the track but later reappeared to be scared off again by Lucy and some other people coming to the hide.

Some raw chicken was put out and soon another ocelot appeared, had a feed and retreated to the scrub.

Now dark, a light was turned on and a third one appeared, not even deterred by the flash of cameras.

It is very rare for people to see these cats in the wild; South Wild has done a great job in habituating these elusive animals.

An Olympic Bike Race in Rio

Friday 12 August

We opted for a late start having not settled in to the hotel Fasano until 2am. We took a stroll down Ipanema Beach and around the corner to the Sheraton Hotel where we had to pick up our Olympic cycling tickets. The NZ Olympics lounge has a set up there where family members of athletes, or in our case athletes that were in the running but didn’t quite get there.

Rio, with its granite mountains rising almost vertically in various shapes up to 700m and its long white sand beaches, makes for a spectacular scene.

There are lots of police and military people on the streets. Security is taken really seriously during the games. We have to go through a metal detector and bags through X-ray every time we enter our hotel. Makes one wonder if Bin Laden had shares in the company that makes these things.

The beach is quiet today as strong winds and rain have kept the crowds away.

Later in the afternoon Ilana, a local woman who we had met in NZ last year, comes to join us at the hotel. We head up to the roof top bar with views up and down Ipanema Beach and out to sea. It’s a nice place to spend the evening.

Saturday 13 August – Sylvia

Rio looked even better this morning under a cloudless blue sky. After a leisurely start we wandered along the other end of Ipanema beach. At the far end we came across an outdoor gym area where a number of topless local men worked out with concrete weights.

We wandered further around to Copacabana – more scantily clad people in all shapes and sizes thronged the beach. We visited the Copacabana Fort, completed in 1914 to defend Rio. They had some pretty large canons and we were able to walk through underneath to see all the mechanics of how they worked. It was deactivated in 1987 and is now home to the Army Historical Museum.

It was then time to head to the Olympic Park area to watch the NZ women’s team pursuit team in their bronze medal race. Despite all the noise in the media we have been extremely impressed with Rio’s execution of the games. Our trip to the Olympic Stadium area was very efficient. First by underground metro and then BRT (bus rapid transit). Everything ran like clockwork. We didn’t even have to queue at security at the games venue itself. There must be thousands of people employed to support the games, from the significant police and military presence, who all seem very friendly, to the people at the games area whose job seems to be to get everyone excited to be here. Some of the infrastructure has not yet been completed in a permanent form – the overbridge from the BRT to the Olympic Park and the top seating area in the velodrome were both temporary scaffolding constructions but both worked well.

In reality, watching the cycling at the Olympic Games was really no different to watching any other cycling we have been to, albeit we did see a fairly exciting gold medal race in the women’s team pursuit with Great Britain breaking the world record by over 2 seconds. Unfortunately NZ were beaten by Canada for bronze.

We reversed our route back to the hotel. You get a sense of how big Rio is. Despite everything running smoothly and efficiently it still took about an hour and a half of travelling each way.

Back at the hotel we enjoyed some of Mariana and Michael’s cheese (from Buenos Aires), massages and a couple drinks on the rooftop bar before calling it a day.

Sunday 14 August

Our guide, Rita, picked us up at 1030 and we headed to the oldest railway line in Brazil. Built in 1884 this funicular runs up the 700m high granite outcrop to the Corcovado. Rio seems to be really good at moving people. Every seat is filled in the two carriages and the next load is waiting in a room near by. Twenty minutes or so later we are at the top. The area around the statue is packed with people, some lying down on mats to get a picture of the statue. Finished in 1931 at 31 meters high it’s quite a spectacle.

The views from here are even more spectacular. There is a bit of smog around in spite if it being a clear blue sky day. Condors soared in front of us floating on the rising air.

We trained back to the bottom and then drove along a ridge line with views out over parts of the city. They really know how to stack houses in around here. Favelas (illegally built houses) are plentiful here stacked together usually on the side of a mountain.

We took a stroll down the Convent stairway at Santa Teresa, created and still a work in progress by Selaron, a Chilean bloke who came there and started sticking up a few mosaic tiles and by the looks of it has got quite carried away.

From a derelict house that had speakers blurting out a weird noise we looked down on an old aqueduct, now used as a railway bridge, and a pyramid shaped cathedral.

We then headed for the cable car up to Sugarloaf, a 400m high hill. Above the base of the cable car three climbers were ascending the rock face.

There were large but fast moving queues at the cable car. The first took us to up to the first hill, once again with great views around the city. The next car took us to Sugarloaf, with more spectacular views over the many beaches. Olympic yachting was taking place out at sea

We were lucky to have our guide Rita as we would have certainly not seen all this in a day on our own. The distances here are quite deceptive with everywhere being further than it looks. Rita was also able to bypass some of the massive queues.

Mico monkeys played in a tree as we were about to catch the cable car down.

An Accidental Encounter in the Villas in Buenos Aires

Monday 8 August

Crossing the coast into Chile revealed beautiful green paddocks rising up into grassy hills. With the snow capped Andes in the distance and clear blue sky’s it’s quite stunning.

Smog surrounded Santiago as the Boeing 787 landed, applying full brakes, I presume to get an early exit from the runway. We walked off the plane, down a few corridors and straight onto the waiting Boeing 767 for our flight to Buenos Aires. The trip across the Andes was stunning to say the least. These snow covered mountains extend to the north and south, on this clear day beyond the horizons.

The trip from the airport to the hotel took us through an interesting part of town with what seem to be standard unfinished houses on one side of the road and ten to fifteen story old apartments on the other. The thirty kilometre trip took aver an hour.

The Four Seasons Hotel is quite flash. The room has doors that open up into the bathroom.

We took a stroll down to the El Mirasol restaurant for a very tasty eye fillet steak. This place with acoustic tiles on the ceiling and lots of waiters always at the ready is a great place to enjoy an Argentinian steak.

Tuesday 9 August

Sylvia headed off to work. I took a stroll heading northwest through the town. As I left the hotel there was a heavy police and military presence with guys donning body armour. I asked a porter what was going down. “The Australians are coming” was the answer.

Not far up the road is La Recoleta. This is a cemetery full of tombs. It’s quite unique as with many of the tombs one can look through the windows or in some cases just bars and see the coffins inside. Some are in disrepair. It was looking in one of these I realised that they go down below the ground with six or eight coffins stacked on top of each other with a steep stairway leading down to the bottom. Originated in November 1822 as the city’s first public cemetery, the fifty two thousand square metre site has 4800 tombs. Evita Peron lies here along with many famous people.

Next was a brief stop at a large columned building with a grand foyer that turned out to be the university. ” No photos allowed”, I was told by a friendly security guard after taking a couple.

Across the road is the Museo National de Bellas Artes, with art ranging from naked people to things I did not understand. One room had a large rug on the floor with some broken lights on it like they had fallen from the ceiling. The next had photos of people with dots over their faces and a couple of ladders in the centre of the room. I wandered in thinking “well that’s art”. A guy stopped me and said its not open yet we are setting it up. Oops those ladders were serving a purpose!!

The roads here are really wide with up to six lanes going in one direction.

Heading northwest iI wandered through continuous parks for several kilometres, passing a Zoo, a Planaterio, tennis courts, several small lakes, and a large officious brick building with an outer wrought iron and an inner brick fence that looked like a military complex but turned out to be the sewerage treatment plant.

As I passed the second statue of a horse-mounted hero, who had obviously at some point had a hand in either conquering or saving this land, I wondered how the statue makers are going to get on portraying our current prime minister, in my opinion probably the best we have ever had. He rode into town in a BMW.

As I crossed the rail overbridge an aircraft flew low overhead on approach to land at the airport almost in the centre of town. A little to the east on the water front is Parque De La Memoria. I think a memorial to those who lost there lives to various bad regimes who have ruled here in the past. A statue stands in the water not far from the shore to represent those whose bodies were dumped here. After a coffee and a glass of wine at a Bahamas over looking the River Plate I followed the shoreline back towards the city.

Fishing is popular here with dozens of people lined up along the sea wall casting into the sea. Some rods have bells on them to alert the sometimes sleeping owners that something is on the line. I never did see anyone catch anything. Food carts along the way seemed to be doing good business.

As I got closer to the city it became more industrial. Men worked on the footpath installing fibre-optic cable which they pulled through by hand using a nylon line. As I closed on the port area some guys had a footpath BBQ going with a rather large chunk of meat on it.

Large trucks rumbled down the road and the footpath became nonexistent. I had to get either over, under or round the end of the railway lines to get back to the hotel. I headed down an industrial road towards the rail line. After rounding a few corners I was suddenly in the villas (slums) as they are called here (pronounced veejas). Buildings are literally stacked up under the motorway, built of various materials amongst a maze of wires to distribute the stolen electricity to the shacks, many built with stolen materials on stolen land. They were quite intriguing.

Kids played and looked up in amazement as a gringo wandered into there domain. Dogs growled and barked but not just at me. The map had indicated what looked like a path up onto the motorway and over the railway lines. This was not to be. Committed now, the what had been narrow concrete lanes now turned to mud. Young men hung around gazing at and discussing this stupid gringo with flash camera in hand. It was not the time or place to stop and put the camera in my pack. Committed and with a purpose I pushed on. Each group that looked at me received a big smile and a loud “ola”, one of my five Spanish words. Some tried to engage with me but I waved and pushed on. The sun was behind me so I stayed in the sunlight to watch any shadows closing on me. Soon a single shadow was closing so I stepped aside turned and put my hand out to shake this young man’s hand. Taken aback he shook my hand then walked alongside me attempting to engage in conversation. Soon there was an alley on the left. I indicated I was going that way and he carried on after spotting the three cops there.

Passing the cops I turned left into a dead-end alley. Two old guys looked at me with surprise as I stuffed my camera into my back pack. We had a conversation without understanding a word each other said but I was sure they were telling me I shouldn’t be there. An old guy and three young blokes rounded the corner into the alley indicating I should come with them. I looked at the two old guys who nodded their heads. I followed as they led the way back to the police.

Two policemen and a policewoman escorted me the rest of the way down the mud alley to the main road. As we parted and I shook their hands thanking then using the remainder of my Spanish words one said pointing back down the ally “very dangerous”. At the end of the day no matter where in the world one goes most people are pretty good.

On arriving back at the hotel the app in my phone said I had walked 28ks for the day.

At 830pm Michael and Mariana picked us up and took to Rio de la Plata. This was the old port area which has been transformed into restaurants and bars. We had first met last year in Salvador so it was great to catch up and share a meal together. They have started making cheese on Michael’s mothers farm where they go in the weekends.

Wednesday 10 August

I took a stroll down to Rio de la Plato, where we had dinner last night, and booked a ferry to Colonia, across the river in Uruguay. With some time to spare I strolled down the canal. The ever present Buenos Aries smog hung in the background. Puente de la Mujer (Woman’s Bridge) is a hive of activity with police blocking both ends. Apparently Greenpeace are quite strung up over some issue and have attached themselves to the rigging and are trying to unveil a banner. This is a really neat area with nice looking apartment blocks on the east side and the old port buildings turned into restaurants and offices on the west. The old restored cranes watch over the area.

I was looking forward to the trip across the River Plate, famous for a great naval battle in December 1939 in which the HMNZS Achilles, along with two British Ships, helped disable the German battle ship Admiral Graf Spee, which was later scuttled off Uruguay. Unfortunately the ferry was strictly stay inside only with very dirty windows.

An hour later I stepped onto Uruguayan soil. Colonia is a pleasant clean town with a wide main street. I strolled through the town onto a hill overlooking the Rivera, a resort area.

Strolling across the back of town I came across the local army base. While I was taking a couple of photos a rather well fed corporal invited me in for a look. In the compound a company of new soldiers were learning to march.

I had time for a beer at a bar in the main street before it was time to catch the ferry back. An hour and a half on the ground in Uruguay hardly counts as a visit.

Thursday 11 August

Ave 9 de Julio is a huge boulevard that runs through the centre of town. Several kilometres long, it has a dedicated bus road down the middle with almost nonstop bus shelters. There is a big memorial in the middle. Evia Perion features on a building at the end. Dog walking is a big deal here – packs of up to ten dogs of all different breeds are connected on leads surrounding the handler. There was even a dog run in a local park.

It’s protest day today and many unions are out with drums, banners and fire crackers trying to get their point across.

At the end of the boulevard I turned right and strolled through various parts of the town eventually reaching La Boca and El Caminito. Situated on the edge of the canal, this area is quite attractive with colourful buildings and markets.

Camera safely in my pack I strolled back up the edge of the canal which looked a bit rough. A motorway bridge here was designed so the whole centre span lifts up to let ships through. There is another big structure next to it but I am not sure what that is for.

A bit further on there were a few new Villas built under the motorway.

Eventually I arrived at the Pink Palace where the president hangs out but which is more famous for the speech Eva Peron gave from the balcony in October 1951 to a million people. I’m not quite sure how they packed them in as the square is not exactly huge. The police had erected steel barricades around the palace as the protesters were here in force.

From there a stroll through the narrow streets of down town took me through a park back to the hotel.

I stopped in at a local restaurant where the outside seats were all taken. I asked a chap occupying a table if he minded if I joined him. “As long as you don’t mind cigar smoke” he said as he puffed on his Cohiba. “Not at all” I replied as I sat down taking a Montecristo from my pack. Miguel was soon joined by Marcelo and Antonio. We had a great chat about the city and country.

Argentina has had a bit of a rough run for the last hundred years with lots of bad or corrupt leaders. Inflation in over the past year has been over 40% but is slowly coming down. In the past famous for its beef exports, soya beans came on the scene and with direct drilling took over the cattle market. Fences were removed as farmers switched to soya. Recently that market dropped and with fences gone it is making it hard to switch back to beef.

All too soon the afternoon was over and I was meeting Sylvia at the airport for our flight to Rio.

The Annual Jaunt to the South Island

Glentanner Station, Mt Cook, New Zealand

Every year I have the privilege of spending a few weeks down south at Glentanner Station. Owned by Ross and Helen, the station runs around ten thousand merino sheep and a few steers. It also encompasses Glentanner Park, a tourist centre with accommodation, and the Helicopter Line flights into the surrounding mountains.

Driving up the side of Lake Pukaki on Monday evening I was, as always, taken aback by the scenery, in my opinion the best in the world. The blue-green colour in the lake running east into the golden tussock to the north, and to the west the snow capped mountains of the southern alps.

It’s always great to catch up with Ross and Helen – we chatted away the evening over a glass or two of nice red wine. I am here to help reduce the prolific rabbit population and at the same time hone in some long range shooting skills.

On Tuesday morning I set up some targets with the 7000ft Mt Mary rising up behind the targets. Rifle zeroed, I was then able to put the Kestrel Ballistics programme to use. The rifle is zeroed at 100 yds. After the bullet passes that point the programme calculates the bullet drop, which is around 15 inches at 300 yards and 36 inches at 400 yards. To hit rabbits at ranges from two to four hundred yards the calculations have to be very precise. With the aid of a pair of good binoculars, complete with a range finder and a good telescopic site on the rifle, ( was able to engage rabbits effectively out to 380 yards in the surrounding paddocks.

The next morning Richard, one of the Helicopter Line pilots invited me along to give a hand putting up some solar panels. We flew to Tekapo Military camp where we picked up the three technicians and their equipment. We then flew up onto Mt Stevens. At just under 8000ft it was a little chilly with stunning views out over the McKenzie Country with its bright blue lakes and golden brown tundra. To the west and north are snow capped mountains including Mt Cook at 12349ft NZ’s highest mountain.

After dropping us off he went and picked up the steel frame returning with it slung under the helo. After dropping off the load the helo was parked on the ridge just below us. Richard was giving us a hand when one of the guys looked up to see the rotor blades staring to turn on the helo (not a good sign). Richard raced down with one of the guys and tied the blades down. The wind was picking up and white clouds rolling in over the Alps. We had to abandon the job. The guys went back and finished it the next day.

Later in the day I gave Ross a hand to shear four big old merino rams. I dragged them out of the pen and Ross did the shearing. At ten years old they had reached their use by date. The next evening we butchered two each so the meat could be fed to the dogs.

There is always lots to do at Glentanner. They feed out hay everyday here during the winter and every second day down at the other farm at the bottom of Lake Pukaki, a 40k drive from here. Over the next few days I get to load up and deliver firewood to the camp ground, help Ross cut down some trees and replace a couple of broken skylights on the woolshed.

I head down to the other farm with Ross and go looking for rabbits while he feeds out. Ross’s son Mark, his wife Kate and theriethree children are building a new house at the bottom farm. With stunning north-facing views up Lake Pukaki to Mt Cook, the Alps to the west, and over the flats with Lake Benmore in the distance to the south. The new house, with solar panels, batteries and a generator, will not be connected to the electricity grid.

On Saturday Ross and I drove the three hours to Christchurch checking out a gun show in the afternoon. In the evening we met Ross’s son George and his mates for his stag party. I will have to leave the night’s activity to your imagination.

Another day the hay feeder at the bottom farm broke down so I took the Glentanner one down so Mark could finish feeding out. I delivered the broken one to the engineers in Twizel for repairs.

Helen, after a busy day running the park or tending to the lovely gardens surrounding the homestead, always prepares a great dinner. We spend the evenings in front of the fire chatting and enjoying a glass or three of red wine.

Suddenly twelve days have passed, 248 rabbits have died (a tiny dint in the population here) and it’s time to leave.

A Glimpse of the West Coast

Driving south through Omarama and over the Lindis Pass to Queenstown, I did something I had been meaning to do for years. I stopped many times and took photos of the stunning scenery. Driving down from the Pass alongside the Lindis River the land opens out into a large valley then flats leading through Tarras to lake Dunstan. This has been sheep country for over nearly a hundred and fifty years. A café at Tarras has a picture of wool being carted out on bullock trains. The lower flat land near the lake is now irrigated and running dairy cows. The beauty of this land is further enhanced by the way the scenery changes so quickly.

Passing down the east side then across Lake Dunstan at Cromwell, it’s then into the rugged Kawarau River canyon. Cromwell, once famous for its cherries and other stone fruit now has added grapes to its repertoire. As the Kawarau Gorge opens out at the Queenstown end, the once barren land is now covered with grape vines producing some of the world’s finest pinot noir.

At the Queenstown airport I picked up my good friend Steve for our road trip up the west coast and back to Auckland. We spent the night in Queenstown catching up over a nice meal.

Saturday morning we headed for Wanaka over the Crown Range only to be turned back as we did not have chains. Detouring through Cromwell we stopped at Hawea where the road to the west coast begins. The guy at the petrol station told us the road may open soon. We pushed west along the south side of lake Hawea. As we got to the west end of the lake we spotted a pickup stuck in the mud near the lake edge.

The land enhanced by the rain and sleet dominates the scene with its hard rugged beauty. Soon we are heading up the northwest end of lake Wanaka which runs up into the Makarora river. We stop in at a rugged roadside café. The grumpy proprietor tells us the pass is closed but should open soon. We order breakfast and sit by the log fire. We discuss with amusement a couple of the café signs: “Shoplifters will be shot” and “if you think you can do it better buy the place”.

After an hour or so the Haast Pass opens and we continue west, driving through the snow covered bush rising up to cliffs with waterfalls thundering down, sometimes hundreds of meters. Over the Pass the road runs alongside the Haast river; with its blue green water and large boulders it has a rugged power about it.

Reaching the West Coast and the town of Haast we head south to Jackson’s bay. Snow lies on the roadside at sea level. A large slip almost blocks our way. A boat sits up among some houses. Very small fishing boats are moored close to the wharf. This is as far south as the coast road goes.

Back up the road a little we find a shingle road and follow it southeast. In good condition, this shingle road has been upgraded so tourists can drive through some beautiful bush alongside the Jackson River. The road heads over a range and down into the cascade, with vast views out over plains to the sea. This is cattle country and has been for some hundred years plus. At the bottom of the hill there is a locked gate; it’s the end of the road for us tourist types.

We headed back up the coast to Franz Josef in time to visit the reflective Lake Matheson before dark.

Sunday morning we head up the Franz Josef River to see the Glacier. Things gave changed around here since my last visit in 2003. DOC (Department Of Conservation) has built a nice car park and a wide smooth track up to the glacier. The only problem is the Glacier has buggered off up around the corner. The closest we can get is nearly a kilometre away. Last time I was here one could stand by the ice river and look up at the glacier. Lots more snow is needed up high to push it back down the valley again. In spite of that the scenery is stunning with cliffs, mountains and waterfalls to gaze up at.

We head north stopping at some of the small towns along the way. Once heavily forested, large areas now graze dairy cows. We check out the rugged beach and town of Hokitika and the wharf areas on the rivers at Greymouth and Westport.

The prevailing southwesterly wind is pretty obvious from the shape of the trees along the sea-shore, that look like they’ve had a styled cut at an Auckland salon as they bend over to the northeast.

The Pancake Rocks (Punakaiki) was another stunning place where DOC have created a sealed path through the shrubbery to the coast.

North of Westport is the Dennison Incline. This place has intrigued me for many years. Opened in 1879 with a mine behind the main buildings from which a chain of 12 ton coal wagons were lowered down the incline at a rate of 14 per hour on cables with water filled pistons used as brakes. Fresh water had to be injected into these on each stroke as the friction was so great that the water would boil. The incline dropped 510m over 1.7 klm. Near the beginning it looks in excess of 45 degrees. The mine behind was eventually turned into a tunnel to access coal seams further back. The incline was closed in 1967 having transported some 12 million tons of coal. The only way up to the site until the 1950’s was to walk or ride a returning wagon.

It was nearly dark when we headed north up the coast. Arriving about eight at Little Wanganui we headed into the pub. A line of red band gumboots stood on the door step. I felt quite at home as I lined mine up beside them. After booking a room we were soon leaning on the bar chatting to publican Wayne. We enjoyed a great meal of big bangers and mash. One of the locals came over and joined us; Tony was soon joined by Jeremy, an adventurous young farmer’s son who was well traveled. Apparently they had had a bit do here last night – Jeremy had left his car here and arrived on his tractor tonight so didn’t stay too late. Tony wandered of too, saying before we left that we should pop in and see his tractor collection in the morning.

As we left in the morning Jeremy’s tractor was still parked outside the pub. They get so much rain around here they refer to the vast native forests as rain forest. We headed into Tony’s. Behind his new house were two big sheds. Tony had sold his farm recently and taken up collecting Massey Ferguson tractors and a lot of other vehicles. Everything was immaculate, the shed clean, tidy and well laid out.

We checked out the river mouth, once a thriving port. After the 1929 earthquake this part of the country was cut off by road for two years. Back to Westport then up through Murchison along the Buller River. In places here the road is chiseled into overhanging rock.

We stopped at NZ’s longest swing bridge, an old gold mining area. Here you can stand next to a fault line and see where the ground on one side of the fault rose up over four meters during an earthquake. The river at times rises with signs showing it rising up to 20 meters during floods.

We stopped in Nelson to see an old friend and mentor of mine. Rusty was the Regimental Sergeant Major of an army unit I belonged to as a young soldier. He is a man of great wisdom and foresight whom I learnt a lot from and have been lucky enough to stay in touch with.

Last light was upon us as we rounded the last part of Queen Charlotte Sound into Picton.

As we departed Picton the next morning on the ferry for Wellington we spent time reflecting on the the stunning sights and great time we had both had rediscovering the West Coast of the South Island.

The underground world of Hertogenbosch

Monday 27 June 2016

The trip to the airport for the 0650 flight to Brussels was a lot slower and more scenic than the one into Prague.

The taxi trip into town from the Brussels airport was a slow one. Once we got off the motorway the traffic was often stationary. We checked into the Sofitel in the city centre and then Sylvia headed of to Mars Petcare Head office for a day of meetings. I headed off to Zuids Station to buy tomorrows tickets to Holland.

Arriving on the metro platform and studying the map, a local lady offered some help. I pointed where i wanted to go, a train pulled in and she indicated to me to get on. Three stops later she got off holding up her hand for me to stay. She smiled and held up three fingers, i presumed indicating three more stops. It didn’t feel quite right. A study of the map and station names and I soon realized I was going well away from where I wanted to be. I am sure the lady’s intentions were well meaning.

At Zuids Station I stood in the queue at the ticket office and when my number came up on the board got a really helpful guy who even explained which platforms to catch the train from. The price too was about half of what I would have paid on line!! In spite of soldiers patrolling the station with assault rifles, lots of security guards and even sniffer dogs people look very relaxed here.

I take a stroll down Rue Blaes to Place Du Jeu De Balle, a large square full of rather washed-out market stalls in the now heavy rain.

Conveniently located next the the square was a Belgium beer bar. A hot soup, bread and of course sampling some of the beer was a great way to wait for the rain to stop.

I wandered through some rather bland streets with lots of construction going on.

Then all of a sudden there was a group of people taking photos. I had arrived at Manneken Pis, the famous Belgian statue of a boy pissing in the fountain. Lots of shops have sprung up around this bad boy.

A little further down the street is Grote Markt, a square surrounded by old palace type buildings. Many chocolate shops filled the available retail space in the square. I just had to try out this famous Belgium Chocolate. Very tasty it was.

A quick tour of the local cathedral revealed lots of stained glass windows.

Next I came across the local palace, with a lone trooper out the front of the large building.

Further down the road I came across a large building under repair with a large dome on top. It looked like some sort of cathedral.

Two soldiers stood outside. I made my way in and was directed through the airport style security. It was indeed a grand building with lots of large stairways, halls and passageways. I strolled around in awe of this magnificent building. There were few people about, some sitting at desks in the main hall. Strolling through corridors and looking through the odd open door into an empty room I realised it was the courthouse. The few people I came across seemed not bothered by my courisoty .

Tuesday 28 June 2016

Sylvia headed off for another day of meetings. I headed to the Zuids Station to catch the 0945 train to ‘S Hertogenbosch’. As we leave Brussels I am, as always, intrigued by the size of the railway sidings and the number of spare trains parked up – do they ever get used?

It’s a two hour-trip, changing trains at Roosendaal as we enter the Netherlands. Its flat all the way with neat farms alongside the track.

Arriving in ‘S Hertogenbosch I was stunned by the beauty of the town. The streets are mainly paved or cobbled; old brick buildings some bulging at the sides are in pristine condition.

People are well dressed as they sit at the bars around the town some eating others just enjoying a lunch time drink. There is a full on market in the square. In one corner there is an empty site where recently a bulging building collapsed – fortunately no one was hurt.

Like Amsterdam bikes are a prominent mode of transport with lots of cycleways around the town.

I head to a hotel to find it fully booked. The helpful person behind the desk gets on the phone, finds me a place on the edge of town and organises me a taxi to get there. I am here to meet Rob (a guy I first met in Vegas four years ago) and his wife Femke. Rob meets me as planned at the station and we head to a local bar for a catch up as we hadn’t caught up since last year.

Then we head to their house on the edge of town. Femke had prepared a great meal of salmon, asparagus, a very tasty anchovy sauce, along with a salad. We had a great evening chatting about our lives and travels. It is the people one meets while traveling that really puts the icing on the cake of travel.

Wednesday 29 June

At Rob’s suggestion I decided to see the underneath of the town, indeed a unique experience. This place was first established in 1185. In English the name translates to “the Dukes Forest”

This area was once basically a mound in a swamp. Canals were built as a moat to defend the city in the 1200’s. It was destroyed by fire and rebuilt during that period. In the 1400’s the city was expanded and more fortifications built. It survived the 80 year war and later a 30 year war. It was finally conquered by Frederik Henderik of Orange in 1629. He diverted the rivers by constructing a forty-kilometre dyke and then pumped out the water by mills. After a siege of three months, the city had to surrender.

In more recent years the city has been expanded and the canals built over. Over the period from 1960 to 1980 some 40 million Euros were spent strengthening and raising the canal walls. Now many houses and buildings in general are built over the canals. Hence one can now do an under city tour. The tour is only in Dutch. I was lucky to have on board the boat a lady and her son who were able to translate for me.

After the tour I took a stroll to the cathedral. Bosch a famous local artist died 509 years ago in August so a scaffold has been erected alongside the cathedral. For 7 euros one can walk up and around the top of the building.

A quick look inside and a it was time to catch the train to the airport in Amsterdam.

Its been another few fantastic days away. I am heading home a day early to go to a party in Auckland. Sylvia still has work to do in Brussels so will follow tomorrow. Thanks Rob and Femke it was great to see you guys.

A Weekend in Prague

Saturday 25 June 2016

Hotel Alchymist has etched into the door step 1517. With arched ceilings and gilded furniture it’s pretty nice. It has chandeliers in every room and in the basement is a bubbling pool and massage rooms.

After a hearty breakfast we strolled around the corner and up the steps to the Prague Castle. The view over the city from here is stunning. Some three hundred spires around the town pierce the hazy sky. It’s pretty evident that the camera is for a good workout today. We stroll around the castle gazing at the variety of structures, some totally different than others, but all seem to blend together in a powerful statement of magnificence.

From the castle we strolled into the old town. Old trams in great condition rattled down the streets. Vintage style cars ferried tourists around.

Everywhere you look it is clean, tidy and the buildings are in pristine condition. In the Old Town Square we sat in a cafe and watched the Astronomical Clock do its stuff. Built way back in 1410, the king of the time liked it so much he had the eyes removed from the guy that built it to prevent him building something better for someone else. Thousands of people pack the square. We discovered that many of the buildings in this square were built in the twentieth century but in a style keeping with the rest of the town.

We wandered the streets in awe of what we saw.

Coming across the dancing buildings we spotted people on the roof. “There must be a bar up there” so up we went. As we admired the view down river some of the largest rain drops we have felt began to strike. We just made it into the covered area before getting drenched.

When the rain stopped we wandered back down the river and across the Charles Bridge (built in 1357) back to the hotel.

We were 20 meters from the hotel when the rain hit again followed by large hail stones which pounded there way across town.

We enjoyed the complimentary wine and cheese in the hotel before heading downstairs to the impressive spa area for massages – the strong Indonesian masseuse pounded my body back into shape

Sunday 26 June

We strolled back up to the Prague castle and bought tickets to go inside a number of the buildings. The first records of civilisation in this area date from between 3600 and 2500 BC. The castle area started to be built in the 8th century with the first stone buildings erected in the mid-1100’s. The castle area covers 70,000 square metres, making it the largest ancient castle in the world. It is dominated by the St Vitus cathedral. It has housed kings from a number of different dynasties and is currently the official residence of the President of the Czech Republic.

Our tickets gave us access to the old palace, several museums and of course the cathedral. One area show-cased numerous suits of armour, weapons and the torture chamber and prison area, which displayed several horrific looking implements. In one area people wore traditional dress and demonstrated several different medieval skills including black smithing, leather work and armour making.

After exploring the castle we decided to take a three hour private Segway tour around the city. Roger was only on the Segway for two minutes before our guide pronounced herself scared. It was a great way to get a good overview of the city. One of the more amusing sites was the ‘Pissing fountain’. Sculpted by David Cerny it apparently depicts the government pissing on the country. We passed several more of his works including some faceless babies crawling up the space tower, apparently the ninth ugliest building in the world.

Our guide was a bit of a hoot, entertaining us with tidbits of history tinged with her irreverent sense of humour. Roger had somehow managed to run his battery flat about 2.5 hours in, and just as we arrived at the beer garden near the Monastery (which we had been told sold the best beer in Prague). It was a good place to wait for a replacement battery to arrive so we could finish the trip back to the hotel.

Back to Barcelona

Tuesday/Wednesday 21 & 22 June 2016

With the unusual feeling that I had managed to everything done we were again off to the airport, this time with Sylvia’s son Nathaniel who happened to be departing around the same time for the US to further his PhD studies at UCLA.

We are on the Emirates Boeing 777 200 seventeen hour flight to Dubai. These guys do it bloody well. Somehow when I get on an Air NZ flight they go on about the awards they have won. Their crew generally try hard but the rest of their outfit do everything they can to piss people off. The Emirates crew are gushing smiles and enthusiasm. The new release movies are actually new. The food is great and the service excellent. Four hours sleep and five movies later (the best being Whisky Foxtrot Tango and 13 Hours). We landed in Dubai for the 45 minute taxi to the gate. I felt a bit cheated as the comfortable flight had been under 17 hours.

We cruised into the lounge to find they still have a smoking area, not a little glass room like you see in most airports but part of the lounge. A couple of hours later and we were on the A380 to Barcelona.

As we taxied out to take off I looked out the window to see another A380 taxiing alongside us. Apart from being pressurised at 6000ft the best feature about this plane is it has a bar at the back of business class. The last time I stood at a bar on an aeroplane was on a Continental DC10 in the eighties on a flight from LA to Houston. I enjoyed a few drinks with Kelly the attendant who skillfully ensured no one went thirsty. She informed us she is off to climb Kilimanjaro later this year. A few drinks at the bar and a couple of movies and the seven hour flight was over.

We are staying in an area called Fira about ten kilometres from the city centre. We checked in to the rather different Renaissance Hotel. With its outside painted with plants, white sterile room and fern shaped windows it was a little unusual.

Sylvia had to go to a dinner meeting at a hotel down the road. I took a cab with her and strolled back. I decided to take a quick look in the Ikea store across the road from our hotel. It was far from a quick look, the store is huge and set up so you have to walk the whole thing to get out.

A visit to the roof top bar of the hotel revealed a swimming pool and great views over the city.

Thursday 23 June 2016

Sylvia headed off for a day of to a day of meetings. I strolled through a few streets and up towards Montjuic. This area houses the stadiums built for the 1992 Olympics. All seem to be still in pristine condition. The park also contains a large monument overlooking the city.

I had looked on Google and seen what appeared from the air to be lots of small apartments symmetrically laid out. It turned out to be a cemetery, similar to those I had seen in Peru three years ago. Thousands of people are interred here. Each block is six graves high with glass fronts and mobile ladders around to enable people to climb up and place flowers for their loved ones.

A stroll up onto the ridge revealed stunning views over the port and out to the Mediterranean. Lots of large ships waited at sea to enter the port.

At the top of the ridge is Montjuic Castle. Situated on a cliff several hundred meters above the sea it has commanding views up and down the coast and over the docks and city centre. Back as far as 1000AD a lighthouse stood on this feature. The first fort was built in the mid 1600s. Modified at the end of that century it became a castle. In the mid 1700s it was demolished and a new flasher castle built, which is what we see today.

Pre the days of missiles or heavy artillery it would have been very hard to defeat. In the mid 1800s it shelled the city to quash an uprising by the peasants. Old and new guns still dominate the cliff top.

In the castle part there is a museum walking one through the history of the fort.

On the lawn of the well kept moat archers practiced with there bows on this stunning blue skied Mediterranean day.

Down the hill a little as the Port Vell Aerial Tramway. Opened in 1931 this has one car each cable. Leaving the cliff it takes you out across the port. The views are fantastic. Gaudi’s Cathedral and the Bullet are prominent as they protrude above the surrounding buildings.

A lift ride to the ground and I was at the beach. I found a beach bar with shade – it’s 36º and the beach is packed. There are chairs and umbrellas for rent on the white sand with the clear blue sea in the background. People lie back and relax in the reclining beach chairs. Many of the woman lie topless or play games on the sand.

The heavily tattooed Italian barmaid tells me how she works here in the summer and travels in the winter to South America. She would love to travel to NZ but its just too expensive and far away.

I take the cable car back up the hill and stroll back around the side, dropping into the intensive housing area. Six-storey apartments line the beautiful streets lined with trees with many little town squares. Shops and banks line the streets.

Further up the road there is a large stadium and more stunning buildings. I wonder why we can’t achieve this in the new housing areas we are developing in Auckland. Surely our politicians must travel and see such places.

Arriving back at our hotel Sylvia and I sit at the rooftop bar taking in the beauty of the city and discussing her busy day.

Friday 24 June

I took the metro into the city for a visit to the Maritime Museum. This is a ship yard dating back to the back to the 1700s. It has miniature ship displays. The main exhibit housed in this grand structure is a replica of the Royal Galley of St John of Austria, built to celebrate the fourth centenary of the battle of Lequnato. The original vessel was built in the dockyards in 1571. It would take the whole NZ Rowing team plus some to propel it.

There is also a replica of the submarine Leciteno originally built in 1859.

A short stroll back to the subway and with a little difficulty i managed to get the right train back to Fira. The subways here are super clean and efficient.

Being a holiday there were no taxis available so we caught the underground train to the airport. With no doors between the carriages one could see the train bend around corners.

Arriving in Prague we jumped the fastest taxi we had ever travelled in. Seat reclined so he could just reach the steering wheel we headed down the motorway at 160kph. Pulling into the street of the Alchymist Hotel we were stopped by police. The driver reluctantly got out to open the bonnet and boot as a guy scanned the underside of the car with a mirror. The hotel turned out to be next to the US embassy.

At the end of a rope in Takaka

Sylvia – 17-19 June 2016

We have often talked about how we should also blog about our travels in New Zealand and having just returned from a quick weekend visit to Takaka I was again struck by the incredible beauty of this country and decided to actually do it!

I left Roger in Auckland for the weekend as he had a big dinner to attend on Friday night (and well into the wee hours of Saturday morning by the sounds of it…).

It was a stunning day with not a cloud in the sky so the flight into Nelson offered up fantastic views of Golden Bay, Farewell Spit and the Marlborough Sounds. By the time I had snaked my way over the 25km long Takaka Hill and arrived in the little piece of paradise that is the Golden Bay area I had already fully unwound from the week.

My daughter, Beka, and her partner, Tom are currently living in their bus, Bronson, with their two dogs, Ruby and Daisy. Beka is studying art and spends four hours or so a day painting and drawing. The rest of the time they are rock-climbing and exploring the beauty of New Zealand. This was my opportunity to do a bit of the same, albeit staying in a warm motel rather than the bus.

Saturday dawned another brilliant day. I drove out to Pohara where Beka and Tom had camped for the night and after catching up and admiring Beka’s art we headed to Cathedral Rock where I was encouraged to do my first climb of the day. This was so much better than climbing in the Blue Mountains. The rock is limestone, so much smoother, the crag was in the sun, so mice and warm, and there were phenomenal views back over Golden Bay. I get so much encouragement from Beka and Tom, even when I scrabble and yell “help!”. Eventually I made it to the top of Tales from the Sea!

The little black dot is me….

Beka on Ambrosia about 5 years ago (I can't carry a camera with me)

Beka on the climb about 5 years ago (I can’t carry a camera with me)

There is no climbing for the kids near Pohara so we headed to Payne’s Ford nearer to Takaka where they were able to work some of their projects. Beka was climbing Dancing on a Skewer and Tom was working on a first ascent. Unfortunately shady and colder but still a lovely spot. I always get a kick out of watching them climb. Beka set up another short climb (Green Day) for me in that area and even allowed me to belay her which was a privilege. We packed up just on dark and headed into town for a delicious meal at one of the local cafes.

On Sunday morning we drove out to Minthorpe. The brooding sky added to the atmosphere as we wandered first along the beach and then back through the forest to the car. All too soon it was time to head back over that hill to Nelson for my flight home. In many ways I am glad that hill exists – it probably keeps to a minimum the number of people who visit this little piece of paradise. It is certainly well worth it for any who do.

A Long Shot in Texas

Week Commencing Monday 30 May

Chris dropped me off at Tampa where I started the journey to Amarillo via Dallas. At Dallas there was a line-up of small E80 twin tail engine jets that feed the small cities. Arriving in Amarillo I discovered it is not only famous for the song, but is also the home town of Colonel Rick Husband, Mission Commander of the Space Shuttle Columba which disintegrated on re-entry in February 2003. His statue stands with pride in the terminal building.

Hiring a car I headed northeast. The land here is flat – in fact dead-flat. A few miles out of town I stopped the car and got out to look around. One can see the horizon in every direction. The last time I saw this was in the Kalahari Desert in Botswana.

A train rolled down the track towards me, stacked two storeys with containers. It was so long I couldn’t see the other end. I am not a train spotter but I couldn’t resist filming this one going past. Speeding along at around sixty miles per hour it took over one and a half minutes to pass by. That’s a mile and a half of train!

Everything is big around here. Huge green paddocks stretch out on each side of the road. I was expecting a desert but saw instead large, green, fertile pastures, some with irrigation. Hundreds of wind turbines cluttered the land twenty miles out of town.

An hour or so up the road the land started to gain a bit of form with some small hills and gullies. This is oil, gas and cattle country.

I am privileged to have been invited up here by Todd, the founder and chief instructor of Accuracy 1st. Todd is a specialist in long range rifle shooting. In conjunction with Kestrel Wind meters he has helped to develop a ballistic programme to calculate how to make long shots.

I pull off the main road onto a dirt road and the GPS soon tells me I have arrived – paddocks all around not a house in site. Heading down a hill I come to a ford. Wading in to check the depth of the brown water it’s pretty clear this little ford will not make it through. Back up the road I find a house and am greeted by Todd’s wife Shannon.

Their son Will runs me up to the 360 degree range. On the ground are a group of US army marksmen who are here training. The firing points are on a hill top which allows the team to move to different positions and calculate the wind at different angles. The close targets from 200m to 4 or sometimes 500m are a 12″ steel disc, beyond that out to 2000m they are generally a 12″ disc with a square steep plate about 16″ wide below them. When hit a rewarding ding travels back to the shooter. Long rang shooting is a combination of science and skill.

Quite quickly the day is over and I head into the local town of Canadian and book into a hotel for the week.

The next morning we settled into a house down the road from the ranges for lectures by Todd. Kestrel wind meters in hand Todd takes us through the process of entering the data. He knows this instrument so well that he doesn’t even need one in his hand to talk us through it.

It goes like this “arrow down to gun, press the centre button, arrow down three, press centre button, down two” etc. It’s hard to keep up.

He talks about truing the gun. For a 7.62 rifle: zero at 100m then another zero at 700 before the bullet goes transonic – make adjustments. Another zero is done at 1100m. By making adjustments to the zero the kestrel adjusts the ballistics to the flight of the bullet (algorithm) so that the bullet path is accurate in 10m intervals to over 1000m.

We head out to another range and put into practice what we have learnt. We shoot targets from 300m working our way out to just over 1000m. The la Rue 7.62 semi auto rifle Todd has loaned me has a 3 to 25 power Nightforce Scope on it with a trimmer three reticule (cross hair). This has graduated lines running down and out to the sides to assist in calculating the wind.

At one stage we are buzzed by a very fast aeroplane. Sometime later Eddie, the pilot, complete with Stetson, turns up at the range.

That night back in town I front up at the Stumbling Goat Saloon for dinner. Steve the barman tells me that pizza is half price tonight. “I think I will order a small one” I say. “No no” he says, “you’ll need a big one”. A big one I ordered. When it arrived it was huge! I looked at the 130kg plus Steve and realised why he had recommended the big one.

Back to the lecture room the next day, as it rained all day, learning how to judge range to the target by sizing objects on the scope reticule. Todd is a master at arithmetic, instructing us in how to calculate wind speed at an angle using short formulae. Then it’s back out to do some more practice.

That night I headed to the supermarket to buy some beer for the team. “Excuse me where is the beer department?” “We don’t have one came the reply!!” “What?” “Yea man, Hemphill is a dry county, you could drive 20 miles up to the next county and get some but they are closed!”

I headed across to the Goat and ordered a drink. I commented to the barman about the dry county. “Yea and it’s going to stay that way because the mayor owns this place so it works well for him”.

The next day we sat out the rain in lectures heading out mid-afternoon to practice. There are lots of experts passing through here testing out and getting Todd’s advice on developing their new technology. We got to try out some pretty cool stuff, after which I got invited to a BBQ at the training centre to meet a whole bunch of people up there testing different shooting aid devices.

Friday morning we did a shoot with no aids having to judge the range off the reticule (milling) and trying to work out the wind from the mirage and movement of grass etc. I need lots more practice at that.

All too soon it was time to drive back to Amarillo. It had been a great week. A big thank you to Todd and Shannon for their hospitality, and to the US Army marksmen for welcoming me into their group while sharing lots of their skills and humour.

It seemed like in no time at all, after the flight over miles of flat country, Sylvia was there to meet me at the airport gate in Houston to catch our flight back to NZ.

A weekend in Tampa

27-30 May 2016.

Landing early Friday evening out of Nashville, Chris picked us up at the airport. Old mate Chris is over here from NZ doing a stint for the NZ Defense force with his wife Nadine and their two children Jacob and Lucy.

Nadine prepared some fantastic evening snacks over which we chatted for some time. The girls headed off to bed about 11. Having not caught up for a while Chris and I headed for the deck for a cigar and a chat – the next thing we knew it was 4am!

The next morning we had a guided tour of Tampa, exploring the piers and big houses along the shore front.

In the afternoon we headed across one of the three Tampa Bay bridges to a great café on the shore front. They had a small area in the water roped off where the kids could bathe under the watchful eyes of their parents. Miami vice type boats cruised past, most with one or two bikini clad woman on board with the guys in t-shirts and shorts.

On Sunday we took a drive a couple of hours up north to the Weeki Wachi Springs. Nadine had organised the hire of a couple of Canadian canoes. This place was well organised and soon they had us in the river and paddling our way down stream amongst the many other people in canoes, kayaks, or just floaties. The water was crystal clear as the river weaved its way through the jungle.

The trip was around five miles. As we got a couple of miles down stream we passed large houses set back from the river in the bush. There was a chance here of spotting a Manatee; these are sometimes referred to as a sea cow. As we paddled our way past some small houses set on the river someone called us over to point out a Manatee feeding against the bank. We watched as, she and her calf sucked up the weed growing on the rivers edge with their soft mouths.

Reaching Roger Park and the end of our journey we paddled across to a local bar for a late lunch. Back in Tampa we dropped Sylvia at the airport for her flight to Nashville. I left the following morning after enjoying another pleasant evening in Tampa.