the Drifter Diariess Blog on RealTravel

Vancouver journal: The BC Life

Wed, 30 May 2007 10:33:40 GMT

Time passed, fish swam, the ferry cruised, I slept and grew a beard that an Alaskan would have been proud of.

Then I arrived. Stumbling on solid ground, I shrank under Vancouver's looming skyscrapers shrinking under Vancover's looming-er mountainscapes capped with snow. My contact was Joe, son of freind of family who fix roof and windows good and go by name of 'Ladderman.'

Joe turned out to be a bit of an inspiration to a dirty urchin of a traveller like me. Round-the-world trips and excellent adventures were a tried and tested past-time to his fast-paced life. India, ...

Juneau journal: Silent Hill

Wed, 09 May 2007 16:05:20 GMT

I wake up on the ferry at one in the morning. Dreams melt.

My bed is a disgustingly brightly lit lounge with nasty brown seats that seek to jab and poke any vain hopes of comfort. My blanket is my rain coat worn backwards with the hood pulled up over my face like a fool. And that is all.

We have docked into Juneau, Alaska's grand capital. A Silent Hill.

Outside is rain, snow, trees and feeble lights in the darkness. Monsters.

Very nice.

I go back asleep.

Skagway journal: The Hitchikers Guide

Wed, 09 May 2007 14:03:13 GMT

Put yourself in my stinking battered shoes for two moments will you?

You're in the snowy wastelands of North Canada. You have made it here through your own feeble expenditure and superbly disorganised travel planning skills, intelligently arriving in the arctic during the winter season when everything is brilliantly closed and everyone is fantastically hibernating with an adequate stash of liquor, salted meat and crosswords to brave the season.

But, but, but you've made it this far; give yourself a pat on the back son.

Now, you have a ferry to catch. It is from Skagway, ...

Whitehorse journal: Golden teeth. Spanish Dentist. Wolf Apprentice.

Mon, 07 May 2007 18:10:34 GMT

Damnit i was hungry.

But the historic boom-town city of Fairbanks was a thin and wheezing old man rocking slowly backwards and forwards in a creaking chair. His house was empty, his cupboards bear. When he was younger he was gifted with a lovely set of golden teeth. "Aren't they lovely?" people said, and indeed, they were. But alack, in a foolish act to better show their omnipotent loveliness, Fairbanks extracted his golden teeth with modern tools and put them on display. It was fine for a while but this prank, like the man, became old with time- if he does not use his golden teeth to ...

Fairbanks journal: The Soul Train

Thu, 03 May 2007 22:04:50 GMT

Alaska isn't called the last frontier for nothing buddy.

To prove it I hopped on the train from Anchorage to Fairbanks, a grizzled by-gone gold-rush fever city inside the arctic circle and one hell of a ways north. Alaska Railroad was my transporter, keeping everything old school with a nostalgic steam train and the trimmed moustaches of ridiculously overdressed staff.

"AAAaaaall aboOOOARD!"

Nicely donned in my typical tourist 'Alaska' t-shirt i was ready to take in the rugged wilderness splayed out on a comfy leather seat; the pains of travelling cheap.

We set ...

India journal: Indian Summer

Thu, 03 May 2007 01:18:42 GMT

On the 11 April, I, Sir William Hadley, of the aforementioned travelling duo, departed for India. Sandwiched in my itinerary between New Zealand and New York, it will be a very different experience. I am excited, apprehensive, bewildered and hopeful. From the frozen barrier of the mountainous Himalayas to the sweltering tropical south, the vast sprawl of cities to the rural rice paddies, the sacred river Ganges to the dry Thar desert, the beautiful and extravagant palaces of the many Rajahs to the foul and teeming slums of Delhi, temples jostle with malls, tourists with beggars, businessmen ...

Munnar journal: Run to the hills Part II

Thu, 03 May 2007 00:57:12 GMT

For a short intermission from relaxing, one night we decide to explore the nearby mountians. Southern ones this time. Munnar is a 5 hour bus journey from Cochin, extreme boredom, deadly driving and hard seats.

The town itself is a dump, a mess of cheap hotels and restaurants, over a river of raw sewage. This however is not why we came. The surrounding area is wonderful, high hills covered with lush green tea plantations as far as the eye can see. We hired a jeep for the day, drove through these picturesque scenes to swim in another waterfall.

The nightlife consists of a liquor ...

New Delhi journal: Long train home

Wed, 02 May 2007 06:20:22 GMT

Time time to head back north. I decide in the morning, arrive at the railwaystation 5 minutes before the train leaves, and get on with 1 minute to spare. which is unwise. Only managed to get a general ticket which means I am in third class, standing in a cattle truck with treble the amount of people supposed to be in there. The dusty fans scraping metallically overhead only spread the sweat about. I head for aircon, padded seats and beds, but am unceremoniously ejected from each. End up sleeping in a corner on the floor with other beggars, sadhus and deadbeats like myself. The journey is over ...

Thrissur journal: Pooram Palava

Tue, 01 May 2007 06:49:12 GMT

The Pooram festival in Kerala is hyped up a lot, to say the least, the largest of it's kind in India. Thousands of people head for the town for Thrissur to witness renowned drumming orchestras, dance troupes, elephant shows and fireworks. A hired taxi ride away, roadtrippin with beers and blunts in the back was the perfect start.

We arrived in the middle of a market street, fuit stalls next to underwear, chai wallahs and sarong touts. The place was heaving, thronged, packed with people. We created quite a stir. Let me describe our travelling quartet: myself, a pale young englishman, Nat ...

Cochin journal: Chillin in Cochin

Tue, 01 May 2007 06:11:53 GMT

Sunning by a posh hotel pool, waited on hand and foot with cool beer and pakora. I feel out of place, but damn it's good.

Kashi Cafe, the epitome of european sophistication, displaced with a flavour of india. Jazz, art and coffee.

Sunset over huge swinging fishing nets.

An eclectic bunch of funny travellers from all corners of the world, gathered with the purpose of amazing experiences, mind expansion, intense discussion and good times. Also, special tea.

Visually stunning Kathakali performances. Amazing drumshowmanship. Incredible face wobbling and shouting. I didn't ...

Quilon journal: Just Cruising

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 05:33:16 GMT

Kollam to Allepey, cruising the backwaters of Kerala. The journey takes all day, through rivers, lakes and canals, surrounded by palm forests, dense jungle and obscure villages. Screeches of unseen animals, eagles sweeping overhead, and children splashing in the water add to the atmosphere. Nothing to do but lie in the tropical sun, sip cool drinks and doze.

Today a general strike was observed across the southern country due to the assassination of an eminant local MP, possibly by rightwing extremist party BJP. At the the hotel, my host is a lecturer in indian philosophy and political ...

Varkala journal: life's a ..

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 05:17:42 GMT

The flight from Delhi to kerala is like a bus, stopping at about 6 different points to pick up passengers. Organising a train ticket and negotiating the bus station is migraine inducing, I get on some form of transport that will take me gof knows where. Luckily it is Varkala. A small beach village based around the top of a cliff, red rocks, white sands and crashing waves below. A small row of hostels, huts, restaurants and bars supports the beach bum community. I immediately associate with a bunch of likeminded travelling ruffians; eat, drink, tell stories and get twisted till dawn.

Kasol journal: A Himalayan excursion

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 04:30:48 GMT

Parvati Valley, Himachal Pradesh. A narrow stone track winds precipitously up the mountainside. Bouncing around in the back of a 4x4, clutching my life in my hands, very tightly. Buses and bikes, cars and cows, all fighting for space, to a cacophonous soundtrack of blaring horns.

Perched on the hills are strange villages populated by Tibetan looking types tending goats, overrun by lost hippies and stoned travelers. The surroundings are amazing, alpine forests encircled by craggy snow encrusted peaks and laced with tumbling glacial waterfalls.

We are accosted by Luciano, a burnt out ...

Anchorage journal: Inside the Outside

Sat, 21 Apr 2007 01:33:07 GMT

Alaskans are a different breed of American.

I witnessed this through two prime examples...

When i got on that fated, fat plane from Auckland to LA, i was struck by the overhelming cache of stereotypical Americans squeezed into their seats and pissed off and loud. Bum Bags, short shorts and t-shirts with catchy slogans like "Fuck Off."

They were the exact image of the American inside your head. The ones we all love to hate. Nothing added or taken away. Truly Crazy stuff.

So there i was; frazzled and weak to the point of accepting that this was America and these were ...

Anchorage journal: Welcome to Coldness

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 03:47:45 GMT

That Argentinian back in the New Zealand hostel asked me a very important question once:

"Alaska?" said he. "Why the fuck are you going to Alaska man?"

"..." My answer.

But sometimes, things are best kept OPEN. A trip free to interpretation and general free-ness. Ah freedom.

The worn grey wrinkles and grooves upon the faces of millenia old mountains beckoned me forth with bitter cold whispers of wind. Onwards, to the icy wastelands of Alaska.

Quiteness. Coldness. Solitude. Open-ness. Freedom. Meditativeness. Oneness of Mind. But mostly, exculsively, Coldness.

Los Angeles journal: Big Wednesday

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 03:19:06 GMT

Wednesday April 18th at 5.45pm was goodbye New Zealand time.

Wednesday April 18th at 9.30am was hello Los Angeles time.

And Wednesday April 18th at 9.45pm was welcome to the end of the world, time.

Your most simple run of the mill sequence of flight connections ever. How the bollocking high priest of buggery could it all go wrong...?

But first: New Zealand, an epilogue.

New Zealand was like a traditonal mince pie; beautifully formed on the outside but when you take a bite, a cacophony of ingredients, textures and taste that is wrong and ultimatley way too fucking ...

United States journal: The Big Freeze

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 03:07:15 GMT

Q: "Why the fuck are you going to Alaska man?"

A: "..."

Tauranga journal: Dolphinus Dissapointus

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 00:17:17 GMT

People come to New Zealand for adventure.

It's the land of "extreme."

Bungie Jumping, Skydiving, Zorbing, White water rafting, Wine tasting and Cheese chasing...

A list of things that also generally appear on your average New Zealand hospital bill.

This being the case, (as well as my legendarily daredevil persona), i emabrked on the No.1 event of my "extreme" top 10.

The water is cold, the westuits are tight and the boat rocks a bit on the waves.

Dolphin Swimming.

Hold on to your hats.

We chugged off on the boat- a hefty load consisting of Swiss ...

New Delhi journal: Delhi

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 00:57:17 GMT

I am staying in Gurgaon Haryana, just outside Delhi, with two very good friends Michael and Barb.

Their home is in a nice housing area, with leafy streets, grassy areas, small shopping and eating centres close by. Relatively speaking. Walking outside in the morning and evening is pleasant, almost temperate. But stepping out of the air-conditioned haven of the house in the day, the heat hits you in the face like a wave, a rushing, stifling, solid mass. 40 degrees centigrade in the shade. The oppressive pall of Delhi smog covers the sky, looking like a thunder storm building weight.

Mount Maunganui journal: The view from the top

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 21:24:37 GMT

It was one of those days when you feel guilty for doing nothing only after you had spent the whole day doing nothing.

The cure: a climb to the top of Mount Maunganui.

We wanted to chase the fleeing sun so we darted up the rocky crags with the poise and grace of mountain goats. Wearing blindfolds.

All sorts were out that evening, crawling from whatever damp hole, or hostel, they humbly lived.

Hikers mincing down the trail, Joggers mincing up it and Ramblers generally mincing.

They either said 'good evening' or looked at you with the looming trepidation that their ...

Mumbai (Bombay) journal: Mumbai Nights

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 03:44:01 GMT

I started my journey the night before in a New Zealand airport. One hour of sleep put me in a good mood for the following day. I fly to Sydney, Darwin, Mumbai then Delhi, over 24 hours of aeroplanic hell, only a bit less interesting.

Behind me a pair of red-faced Aussies drink Scotch and shout. All the latest Hollywood blockbusters play simultaenously on hundreds of tiny screens surrounding me. For the majority of the time I sit next to a friendly Indian woman who tells me about her family, her job, her life. I then discover she is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day ...

Tauranga journal: Dig those crazy jazz cats!

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 19:58:36 GMT

As if by the will of miracular forces and groovy spirits we happened into the town of Tauranga on the Easter Weekend of it's yearly jazz festival.

www.jazz.org.nz

Grrreat.

The streets were shut off and establishments surged with hip beatnicks, old hippies and even older hippie replacements, uniting under one music of many sounds. Ah jazz.

The players too, were young and old, bringing the new stuff to the old school and the old school to the high school, or just doing their own special thing with a nice range of golden brass, wooden bass and pounding drums.

It was ...

Abel Tasman National Park journal: I claim this here land

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 23:01:08 GMT

New Zealand's huge national park of Abel Tasman reportedly recieves more visitors per year than New Zealands own population four times over. Or something like that.

More than one reason to cruise its forested islands by two-man sea kayak wouldn't you say so? Indeed.

So we did. My Attourney and I.

A quick training session with a gnarly surfer dude acting out how to recover from a capsised boat while looking like a damn fool, and then we were away. Donned in waterproof "skirts" we looked like damn fools anyway.

We always look like damn fools.

The waters were calm ...

Havelock journal: Captain Claytons freindly fishing club band

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 22:17:46 GMT

6 sharp.

We were risen early and suddenly by the unstoppable alarm clock that is George Hancock and a pillow to the face.

Time to go fishing.

Warm clothing, ice box (for beer then fish storage), many plastic carrier bags of munchies. Good to go.

Lonely mist dragons clung spindly to bristling wet forest canopies.

The road was yawning wide and open.

The Captain was a Character.

Gruff. Coarse. A face carved from concrete with a rusted chisel.

"Are You Don's lot?"

Yes, we were.

"Pile on the boat."

Nothing else to say.

The ...

Sydney journal: bad baggage

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 03:26:51 GMT

We were late- that much I knew.

A stewardess calmly told us on our way into Sydney that we had been changed to a flight at 11.30 am instead on 9.50am.

Cool. Easy. No Problem.

Nice and organised like.

We got off the plane at 9.50am.

There were speakers all over the airport speaking.

'Hadley.' They said. 'Hey.' They said.

'Get on the plane.' Basically.

We calmly walked to the travel desk to ask our questions.

'Yeah, we've just arrived about 5 minutes ago.' I said. 'They told us we had been transferred to a later flight.' I was worried about ...

Ayutthaya journal: the youth of today...

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 03:08:11 GMT

We visited the most ancient temples that had been destroyed by the Burmese centuries before.

Groups of tourists mingled with the local high-school kids, pouring off buses.

It was bizzarre.

The tourists wandered in carefully, almost on tip-toes. Regarding each and every ancient stone with an even stare.

The schoolkids rushed.

Out of sight of teachers they flicked open mobile phones and texted mates, sitting on the monuments of their ancient heritage.

They breezed past the jagged remains of ancient buddahs and and crowded around the two 'david beckhams' ...

Blenheim journal: the wake-boarding wake up call

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 02:39:27 GMT

As part of a group activity for a small group of a school reunion, we decided to reflect upon the good old days by a healty dose of high-octane wake boarding on a cold rainy day. Just the ticket.

As i had knackered my leg muscle via various flip attempts and skimboarding wipeouts, i assigned myself photographer and filmaker of the vast and diverse bails, falls and face plants of the day.

They were great and many...

Nelson journal: Give us this day our daily bread... and coffee, and chocolate and ice cream and...

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 02:32:59 GMT

We finally arrived, knackered, discombobulated and unnanounced at Jared's today.

Let me tell you, walking into a household after days melting past on the road was beautiful.

Just stopping.

His folks, Jan and Don are the nicest you can get- laid back, easy-going and uber kind.

Our first treat of many was black coffee, real black coffee and biscuits.

Jared was at work- the local phone network Telecom.

But another sarcastic schoolchum, George, had already been there for the last three weeks or so.

He was very much at home, eating and sleeping and whatnot, ...

Fox Glacier journal: Getting it in gear- Ice, Swedish Hitchikers and Evil Possums...

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 02:19:19 GMT

We decided to get it in gear sometime after My Attourney jumped off a large elevated platform attatched to an elastic chord.

We were going to reach our old schoolbuddy Jared in Nelson four hundred kilometres away.

In a day.

I drove for a measley eight hour stretch through some truly gob-smacking, inspiring, untouched landscape.

Along the way we picked up two hitchiker girls from Sweden.

You are now jumping to conclusions.

We were all heading in the same general direction and pulled up, after an epic journey of heights and drops, at Fox Glacier. A lump of ice ...

Oamaru journal: East Coast mission

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 02:16:08 GMT

Our journey down the east coast of the south island on a westerly wind with a northernly mindset was a cocktail on the rocks with a twist of beauty and the beast.

Simple mathemetics deduces the following:

Landscape, wildlife, mountains and streams, wide roads, easy parking, fresh air= beauty.

Boy Racers, Ugly inhabitants, Many sheep, Hunger mood swings, Petrol refills, mountain trails, GRAVEL ROADS and other tourists= the beast.

We:

Viewed the Moreaki boulders which did exactly what it said on the tin and were indeed boulders on a beach in Moreaki.

Attempted ...

Invercargill journal: the end of the road

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 01:33:24 GMT

While visiting the concrete scab of Invercargill, the southernmost city of the world, was super-fantastic, it was the fishing community of Bluff that truly captured our hearts and lodged the lead weight of depression in our digestive system.

We made our way from Invercargill's copy and paste world of petrol stations, KFC's, and Maccy D's to a place where the rain never stops. A great place to spend the night.

The arse end of the earth smells of fish and sounds like swearing

The road officially ended at the sea. It was the selling point of the town. There was a big sign to ...

Christchurch journal: Christchurch-on-Avon

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 01:31:27 GMT

Christchurch is the bastard child of Bath, Bradford-on-Avon and Trowbridge excreted from one giant archaic blender.

It is England in the sense it is Shakespearean and idyllic. It is not in England in the sense it is clean, spotless and full of fresh air.

It is very pretty.

Yet it lacks.

The streets shine and the buildings stand posing with empty stares, but character has fled, never to return.

It discomforted my spidey-sense.

The English-ness is overwhelming.

As such it has no soul.

We hired our white automobile and left the city.

Dark ...

Ayutthaya journal: Enough Buddah for everyone

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 22:35:50 GMT

Someone was smiling on us that day.

Maybe Buddah, maybe some superfluous entity that reflects a higher power of some kind or another.

Whoever it was, they made damn sure we got our all inclusive river temple tour of Ayutthaya for free. What a bargain, even for Thailand standards.

The junk boat chugged us down the river, sceneically dotted with dead fish, dead dogs, dead birds and monitor lizards eating everything that was dead.

People waved from their rickety shacks at the banna split boat full of goggle-eyed sunburnt tourists from a superior economy.

How they ...

Ko Phangan journal: false advertising and a tendency for pyrotechnics...

Sun, 25 Mar 2007 21:30:39 GMT

The Thai's have strange, extravangant advertising techniques indeed...

My attourney and I noticed the pyrotechnic potential of the bar staff in a pre-party exhibition the night before. This extravagance included the lighting of oily rags in petrol filled beer bottles. Essentially a molotov cocktail then.

However, instead of lobbing these concoctions at rows of riot police, the thai's proceeded to place highly flammable mats beside the olympiad torches with the hope customers will be attracted by the writhing fumes and come and relax and drink and chill. Crazy.

That they did.

New Zealand journal: the heebie jeebie kiwi road spree

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 03:06:22 GMT

That's right. Blitzing the islands in a battered automobile. And an eight-track cassette player.

bad to the bone.

Ko Phangan journal: Charlie's trek for truth

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 22:15:08 GMT

After getting up crazily at 5.30 am for some Tai Chi on a sunrise beach, i zipped off with my camera for a mountain forest hike, leaving My Attourney to kip off the extra bottles of Singha beer (40 Baht a bottle= 50p(ish)!)

When you go up higher, you can really start to appreciate this place- the pictures speak better than words so you know what i'm getting at- sky and forest, forest and sky.

It was, strangley, abnormaly, frighteningly for here, cloudy. But that was welcome to a sunburned foreigner and the humidity kept me sweating bullets.

It was uphill all the way. The ...

Bangkok journal: Royal Hotel

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 19:42:04 GMT

Pretty nice rooms overlooking a pretty nice pool- big place to chill in bangkok close to Koh San Road.

Ko Phangan journal: notes from a smaller island

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 23:19:24 GMT

Welcome to Jurassic Park

Or at least, that's what they shoud say when you ferry pull into this island of palms, cocunuts, rolling hills of jungle and crazy animal noises.

The sun mugged me on our four hour ferry trip here so I arrived as a great Bristish tomato. Not to worry, there are plenty of raw pink people here...

The 4x4 open topped taxi ride was wicked-cool crazy. We shared it with an angry German.

Bangkok journal: Bangkok and Beyond

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 23:08:57 GMT

Koh San Road Bangkok- First Impressions of a discombobulated mind...

The city of Bangkok is an endless game of tetris.

Rampant towers and shapes stab through the baking tarmac jostling to fit together while fighting to be different. That's the theory.

My attorney and I arrived late afternoon when the shadows were long. Everything was caked in a pink hue of smog, made 'pretty' by intense neon.

It started efficiently. We arrived by modern airplane to modern airport with modern staff and modern technology. There were many taxi touts shouting 'where you go?' selling limos ...

Thailand journal: Bangkok and Beyond

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 22:40:24 GMT

7th March- Bangkok, Koh San Road