It would take you at least 90 minutes to drive from Darwin to the Lodge at Dundee, the bar at the local holiday park in this remote, seaside town. In one of Airborne Solutions’ helicopters though, you’ll be ordering your first icy beer in a mere 25 minutes having taken in some pretty speccy views of the NT coastline along the way.
And that’s just the beginning of your day on a seven-hour Heli Pub Crawl that takes in five memorable Top End establishments. Interesting locals with tall tales, some of the country’s more colourful publicans and even a wildlife encounter – one of the stops is Goat Island Lodge on the Adelaide River, where Casey the Croc often comes for a feed – are guaranteed.
It’s 6.23am according to my Fitbit, and the hot trickle of sweat snaking its way from the back of my neck, down my cheek and directly into the furrowed crease of my brow tells me we’re in for another sultry day in the Solomons.
I’m struggling to hold a graceful downward dog position, and the gentle rocking of the boat is making it almost impossible to keep my balance. As for emptying my mind and focusing on nothing but the present – the slightest breath of a warm breeze and the gentle chant of “omm” – I’m failing miserably and already thinking ahead to breakfast, the day’s scuba dive and whether it’s possible to get sunburn at such an early hour.
This is the daily 5.30am yoga session aboard the MV Taka. Well, it would be if it started on time, but out here we’re on what’s affectionately known as ‘island time’, which means any semblance of punctuality no longer exists, replaced instead by a more relaxed ‘go with the flow’ vibe.
Myself and 11 others are travelling with Solomon Islands Discovery Cruises on a seven-night voyage exploring the gorgeous Florida and Russell Islands. Our trusty vessel is the aforementioned MV Taka, a 30-metre liveaboard that boasts 12 comfortable cabins, a communal dining area and more than enough space for lounging around. It’s no Queen Mary 2, but if you’ve come to the Sollies in search of five-star luxury, well, this probably isn’t the right trip for you.
Still untouched and relatively removed from the majority of the modern trappings that have infiltrated much of the South Pacific, there was little I knew of the Solomon Islands before touching down, apart from it being home to some of the friendliest people on Earth and also being ridiculously, rub-your-eyes-it-can’t-be-real beautiful.
Even the flight time was a surprise – it’s just a three-hour trip with Solomon Airlines to Honiara, the capital, from Brisbane.
Comprising 992 islands – of which just 147 are inhabited – the Solomons welcome only 30,000 tourists annually, most of them avid divers lured by the promise of pristine, healthy reefs or history buffs interested in the fierce violence that erupted in the archipelago between Japanese forces and the American allies during World War II.
It’s a narrative the team behind Solomon Islands Discovery Cruises is hoping to enhance via these new seafaring expeditions.
On a mission to showcase another side of the Solomons, the cruise has been carefully crafted to offer cultural experiences, an up-close look at some of the breathtaking natural attractions, plus a stack of water-based activities, all while still incorporating the ever-appealing diving and history components.
And that’s exactly what I get on my week-long adventure, during which time normally spent checking Instagram is replaced with surfing or stand-up paddleboarding, while regular Netflix sessions are swapped for nightly bouts of stargazing.
With yoga done and dusted by 7am it’s time for a hearty breakfast. Steaming somewhere out in the middle of the ocean, you’d be forgiven for expecting little more than cereal and toast on the menu. Not on the Taka.
With the kitchen manned by local chefs Charles and Fred – in fact, all Taka’s crew members are Solomon Islanders – it’s not long before a feast emerges from the depths of the galley. Bacon, eggs cooked to your preference, pancakes, sauteed veggies, fresh tropical fruit, yoghurt… You name it, they’ll cook it up for you, even cereal and toast, if that’s all you fancy.
It’s a meal designed to fuel us for our upcoming scuba dive at White Beach, the site of an old World War II wreck, in the Russell Islands. A former American military base, White Beach was abandoned hastily and all equipment simply pushed into the water by soldiers upon departure. That means there’s a plethora of vehicles, machinery and artefacts lying just below the surface.
Despite considering myself quite the water baby, I’ve never had the opportunity to go diving before, and I’m half terrified, half excited about the prospect of giving it a crack.
Our crew consists of two fully qualified PADI dive instructors, and our cruise leader, Chevone Whitaker, is also fully qualified. Solomon Islands Discovery Cruises was founded by Belinda Botha, who operates the highly successful Dive Munda in the Western Province of the Sollies, so naturally diving is part of the itinerary.
Newbies like myself are offered the opportunity to undertake the introductory PADI course, which permits guided dives down to 12 metres below sea level. Chevone, who also happens to be Belinda’s niece, takes our crew of four dive virgins through the required dry-land training, during which my initial buzz of excited nerves turns to full-blown terror.
“The most important thing to remember is to keep breathing,” Chevone states matter-of-factly. It sounds simple enough, but with various hand signals to remember and emergency procedures running through my head, I’m beginning to worry my natural breathing instincts may not kick in.
As I try to keep a lid on my heightened emotions, we head to the shallows to test our newly learned skills in the lukewarm, aquamarine waters. With every fibre of my mind and body convinced the act of surviving underwater is impossible, I’m shocked upon taking my first gasp and finding that, yes, the equipment actually works and, no, I haven’t drowned yet.
And that’s all it takes for me to completely relax. Before long I’m descending into the depths of the water, dappled sunlight illuminating the passing reef and highlighting corals the colours of Pantone swatches – lavender, peach, buttercup yellow and burnt orange. Tropical fish dart past leftover bullets and casings, while royal blue starfish cling to pieces of scrap metal once used for communication towers.
Time ceases to exist underwater, and after what feels like five minutes we slowly make our way back to the real world. I clumsily clamber back on the boat, a round of applause greeting my fellow first-timers and I, before a freshly cracked coconut is thrust into my hands. Through a giant grin I knock it back, quickly discovering nothing tastes sweeter than that first post-dive bev.
After that, a feeling of euphoria doesn’t quite leave me. It’s present during our visit to Roderick Bay, a place that has become somewhat of a reluctant tourist destination thanks to the wreck of the MS World Discoverer, a German cruise ship that ran aground in the bay in April 2000. A looming presence – the ship is more than 80 metres in length – it’s now an unorthodox playground for the island’s kids, who have built flying foxes, rope swings and diving platforms on the upper levels.
The warm welcome we receive from Chief Patrick and his community is one of flowered leis, fresh coconuts, dancing and music. They’ve come to embrace the increased interest in their island since the wreck turned their home into an attraction, and aren’t shy about sharing stories, showing us their wares and offering tours of the village.
That feeling is there again when we drop anchor at Mane Bay. Enticed into the water by the promise of waterskiing, stand-up paddleboarding and snorkelling, it doesn’t take long for word of our arrival to spread.
Within minutes we’re surrounded by children of all ages – some as young as two, who seem barely able to walk let alone paddle – in wooden dug-out canoes, eager to trade their form of transport for ours. SUP boards and blow-up unicorns are quickly commandeered and my fellow cruisers and I realise we’ve fallen victim to a calculated and well-practised ambush. There’s nothing we can do about it, of course, as these kids rule the waters.
Over by the Taka, business is getting underway. An important ethos of the Solomon Island Discovery Cruises is a focus on sustainable tourism, and a way of delivering on that promise is by actively involving the local communities. It’s the reason why island visits and hosted performances are so integral to the cruise, and why more than 30 canoes, loaded with fresh fruit and vegetables, have suddenly converged on the boat.
This makeshift floating marketplace – every bit as loud and enthusiastic as one you’d expect in Southeast Asia – allows for both the boat to top up its supplies (the use of fresh, local ingredients for our meals is an outstanding feature of the trip) and provides a monetary opportunity for the residents of Mane to sell and trade their produce. It’s an ongoing agreement every time the Taka steams into the bay, and a win-win for all involved, especially in these outer islands where any form of income from tourism is virtually non-existent.
Our final morning begins as all the others have: alarms going off at 5.25am for yoga on the top deck. This particular morning, though, our view is slightly different. We’re on the outskirts of Honiara and there’s a slight haze in the air, while that unmistakable end-of-holiday feeling reverberates between my fellow yogis and I.
As we settle into the now familiar moves of our sun salutations, I once again slip into the familiar pattern of thinking ahead to what’s on during the day: taxis, flights, transfers and more flights. I feel the slightest hint of anxiety start to creep in, so I take a couple of extra-deep breaths and sneak a peek at the
orange-hued horizon instead.
I may have fallen out of step with the rest of the group as a result, but I figure since we’re still technically on island time, it’s not going to matter too much if I soak up the last of the early-morning Sollies sun for just a little longer.
Sitting above Perth’s Richmond Quarter, Sweetwater Rooftop Bar has brought the taste of Asia to Western Australia. Former head chef of Melbourne’s Gingerboy, Leigh Power, has collaborated with cocktail guru Ben Tua, to create a hawker-inspired venue. Sit under the ambient light beaming from lanterns and enjoy the stunning view over the harbour while you savour the inimitable flavours.
Delight in the steamed duck and water chestnut dumplings or grilled sirloin with kimchi and black pepper sauce, and sip away at the Jungle Book cocktail made with Eristoff, melon, raspberry and spiced pineapple. It’s open from Wednesday to Sunday for lunch and dinner, so find a perch on a wicker chair and let the chaotic city life go on without you.
Get out your Bert Kaempfert records and dust off the safari suit, because this hideaway has more than a touch of retro glamour. Josh ‘Sinbad’ Collins and Barbara Blaze, owners of Melbourne’s LuWOW Bar, set up this holiday home on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast as their own personal tiki palace.
Decorated with rattan wallpaper, wood carvings, giant shells and more, it has three bedrooms and sleeps up to seven people. The house is set in lush rainforest – the bathroom has views of the canopy – and features a lagoon pool, grotto hot tub and a full kitchen with tiki mugs and cocktail recipes for inspiration. And it’s just a 10-minute walk to the beach.
Northern Territory’s East Arnhem Land is home to the Yolngu people. This vast land has remained unchanged for more than 40,000 years and will touch you with its strong sense of tradition. With the guidance of Crooked Compass, you’ll be transported from signed tarmac roads into one of the most untouched areas of Australia.
Upon arrival to the Bawaka Homeland you’ll be welcomed by the Burarrwanga family and immersed into the Yolngu culture. Women will be guided through activities such as weaving, cooking, and crafts while spearfishing and didgeridoo making are available to the men. An exploratory hike to the cyan waters of Lonely Beach will bring home just how pristine this land is. By night, Dreamtime stories, passed down over generations, are told by a crackling fire. It’s an experience that will move you to your core.
Chances are, if you’ve done any investigation into taking an expedition cruise into Antarctica, you’ve mainly come across journeys that start in southern Argentina and the city of Ushuaia. But if you’re not keen on long plane flights there is another option.
How does departing New Zealand sound? National Geographic Explorer’s 15-day Fiordland and the Sub Antarctic Islands expedition on the environmentally friendly Le Laperouse leaves from Dunedin on the South Island. Make sure you arrive a couple of days early, because this southern city is renowned for both its Maori and Scottish histories.
Not surprisingly, this one tracks a different course to most polar voyages, but it one that is equally as breathtaking. First, you’ll head around the southern tip of the country, passing through the Foveaux Strait, then sail north again along the epic landscape of Fiordland National Park. From Milford Sound it’s off to the Snares Islands and the journey’s southernmost point, Macquarie Island. The wildlife – elephant seals, fur seals and penguins of the king, royal and yellow-eyed varieties – is pretty special, but this remote tract of land is also home to more than 3,500,000 seabirds, including Gibson’s albatross, giant petrels and the Auckland shag (yeah, we laughed too).
Other sub-Antarctic stops include Campbell Island and Auckland Islands. All of them are explored on Zodiac expeditions and, because nearly everyone else does their cruise from South America, you might find you and your fellow guests have the whole place to yourself.
The next Fiordland and the Sub Antarctic Islands cruise departs New Zealand on 2 February 2020.
Sitting on a cliff overlooking the spectacularly azure waters of Norfolk Island’s Anson Bay, is a paddock-to-plate experience that’ll leave your taste buds salivating for more, long after you’ve left the tiny Pacific Ocean island.
When the Ryves family moved to Norfolk Island three generations ago, they wouldn’t have imagined their farm property would turn into one of the must-do experiences atop the basaltic, nutrient rich soils. The Hilli Goat Farm Tour, led by Emily Ryves and her family, is one lunch-time feed you just can’t miss.
The tour starts with Emily and Steve (Emily’s dad) offering a history lesson in how the farm came to be one of Norfolk Island’s most delicious experiences, with the hairy VIP’s crying for attention (and food) in the background.
Originally settled as a cattle farm, it wasn’t until Emily saw a documentary of two ladies making goats cheese that she decided to transition from her role as a flight attendant and to farming and cheese making. Born and raised on Norfolk, Emily has always lived on the family’s property, where to this day, she lives with her husband Zach Sanders and their son, Charlie.
Watching the goats eagerly line up at the shed as the milking process is explained and demonstrated is fascinating. When you arrive at a small shed-like structure on the property, a few metres away from the milking shed, Emily will emerge with a cheese mould and explains the cheese-making process, from thickening of the milk to pressing and moulding curds. Alongside her thriving cheese produce business, she also stocks a growing organic goat’s milk skincare range but it’s the smell of the lunch being prepared in Emily and Zach’s home, situated just at the end of the property, that will really grab your attention.
A large Norfolk Pine table is set up just beyond the doors and is quickly covered with wholesome dishes prepared by Emily and her mother, Alison. Warm bread sits alongside an array of vegetable dishes sourced straight from the Hilli Goat Farm property and cooked in a variety of different ways. From roasted carrots and squashes potatoes, to salads, and traditionally fried fish, and of course, more goat’s cheese than you’d find in your local farmer’s markets.
The dishes are everchanging, seasonal and delicious, with a lot of traditional style dishes thrown in the mix. And while Emily and Zach are centre stage, it’s a true family affair. Emily makes the goats cheese, Steve provides the fruit and veggies, and Jamie catches the fish.
This is life on Norfolk at its finest – the people are inviting, the produce is locally-grown, full of colour and flavourful, and the atmosphere is relaxing. It’s a belly-filling learning experience that should be at the top of everyone’s to-do list to Norfolk Island.
New Caledonia culture is alive in this corner of the South Pacific with an estimated 40 per cent of the archipelago’s total population still made up of the Kanak people. Dedicated to Kanak culture is the architecturally spectacular Tjibaou Cultural Centre in Nouméa. Nestled between Magenta and Tina bays in the Tina Peninsula, the curved wooden structures rise above surrounding woodland and mangroves in this preserved natural site. Designed by Italian architect Renzo Piano, the Cultural Centre was designed to replicate the island’s traditional architecture and houses a museum, performance spaces, a library and an art centre.
Inside the monument, which is named after Kanak leader Jean-Marie Tjibaou, visitors will find sculptures, paintings, photographs and regular dance performances that represent Kanak and Pacific culture. Outside the hut-like buildings are a botanical garden and the winding Kanak path, which outlines the importance of nature to the Kanak people and the myth of the creation of man.
Get the timing right and you’ll even be treated to a performance by the We Ce Ca group, proving the Tjibaou Cultural Centre is a totally immersive Kanak cultural experience.
Despite its famed evergreen reputation, and Hollywood-represented history, Norfolk Island is somewhat of an enigma. As I board the plane from Sydney to the tiny 35-kilometre-square island in the South Pacific, I’ve convinced myself I’m about to enter a real-life production of Bachelor in Paradise, just in time for Valentine’s Day.
The first thing I notice about Norfolk Island, aside from the shed-like airport, is the thickness of the air. It’s February and the subtropical climate of the island, situated 1500 kilometres east of Brisbane, is certainly delivering the humidity. The weather is milder than expected, but I’m sweating profusely and the sapphire blue waters that surround the cliff-framed cost are looking rather appealing.
A crowd of locals stands metres away behind a cream fence, waving vigorously at arrivals and preparing farewells for the departing. Everyone seems to know each other, but what would you expect of an island that has a population wavering around 2000? Through the noise, I identify wataweih and whatawee as the main greetings and I make a mental note for my future grand finale.
Rose Evans is my guide for the day and I take careful note of landmarks as she drives around grassy bends and over steep undulations. But with famed Norfolk pine trees deepening the hue of endless sweeping pasture I quickly lose my landmarks. The landscape is far less tropical than I had imagined, which I later learn is the result of one of the earlier settlements where overgrown tropics were replaced with pastoral lands. It looks like a quaint UK countryside village, with the weather you’d expect of a subtropical island.
A brief introduction to World Heritage-listed Kingston, the blue lagoon of Emily Bay, the thrashing waters of Slaughter Bay and the town centre eventually ends at my private beach-house accommodation at Coast. From my deck, the blue skies are starting to scatter with grey clouds that threaten rain but never deliver, mocking the locals who are awaiting the end of a near-catastrophic drought. Not that you could tell by the landscapes that are hypnotizingly green. Through the pine trees, I spy the varying blues of the ocean and its surrounding reef, the source of many ships’ end.
Over dinner at Hilli’s Restaurant, Rose tells me how she came to call the isolated island home. As a young Queenslander, she holidayed on Norfolk Island and fell in love with the place and a local. Shortly after, she moved and has been here ever since. I’d soon come to learn this romantic tale isn’t unusual in this part of the world, and my hope for a paradise ceremony strengthens.
A Pinetree’s orientation tour is my half-day introduction to the island’s main sights. Along with my fellow grey-haired explorers, I listen as Max, our guide, rattles off fascinating island facts. For instance, the phone book uses locals’ nicknames rather than their surnames, there are no snakes or spiders here, and cattle and birds are the main fauna. I’m thrilled to learn about the absence of deadly critters we’re so used to in other parts of Australia.
“The language is 227 years old,” Max explains of Norfuk, a combination of old English and Tahitian. “It was created by some men who stole a ship, picked up their friends, settled on an island where they burnt their ship then couldn’t speak to one another.”
His dry sense of humour gets mixed responses on the bus, which is as entertaining as his stories that have me in fits of giggles. But Max makes it very clear there’s one conversation he won’t have on his tour – politics. The previously self-governed island came under Australian Government rule in 2017 and it’s still a touchy topic.
Instead, Max recites the historical tale I’ll hear multiple times over the coming days. It’s a fascinating narrative featuring ancient Polynesian seafarers, First Fleet farm lands, brutal convict settlements and a famous mutiny.
A similar discourse is delivered at a traditional sunset fish fry, during the Pinetrees’ Sound and Light Show where costumed players enact the horrifying days of the convict era, and again as I’m wandering the cemetery on a ghost tour.
I’m transfixed by the islanders’ unwavering script on the HMS Bounty mutiny, which in 1789 saw Fletcher Christian and eight other crewmen overthrow and set adrift Lieutenant William Bligh and 18 other men. The mutineers then returned to Tahiti to reunite with the women with whom they’d “fallen in love” before eventually heading to Pitcairn Island. There they set the ship ablaze and stayed for 20 years. By 1808, all of them, apart from John Adams, had been killed by each other or their Polynesian ‘loves’. Finally, in 1856, Queen Victoria granted Norfolk Island to Adams and the women and children who remained. When I question the story, drawing comparisons to other accounts of less gentlemanly behaviour during the British Empire’s history of invasions, one local offers a dismissive forced smile. And while my journalistic curiosity has me wanting to dig deeper into the romance of this story, I have a fond admiration for the pride the Norfolk nation has in their history.
It’s at this point I decide to join a Kingston ghost tour. Thanks to the island’s violent penal past, Norfolk is considered one of the world’s most haunted islands, and this has the attention of my inner woo-woo transfixed. Being a sceptical believer, I join the group with a lantern, an open mind, some garlic and a pinch of salt, hoping to hear fascinating stories but not expecting any actual ghosts. Accompanied by the sound of crashing waves, we move through the cemetery and past headstones etched with stories of murders, drownings and untimely deaths. I catch myself smirking when a guest questions a shadow (caused by a tree) in the distance, but tighten my grip on my black tourmaline crystal and soundlessly recite, “Please don’t follow me home, please don’t follow me home” in a bid to repel spirits.
It’s said a large number of the Norfolk’s spirits hang out around Kingston’s main street, Quality Row, and its elegant official houses. But it’s the duplex that catches my attention. As we park opposite, the bus fills with whispers and apprehension. We’re told about the house’s dark past, and some people choose to stay where they are. I spend my time ensuring I’m surrounded by living people, but eventually freak out and refuse to enter the servants’ quarters. Whether it’s anxiety or the supernatural, I’m convinced the building has evil juju. I let out a hushed giggle when a man jumps because he catches his son’s shadow while taking a photo; another when a woman, who is standing near a window without glass, quietens the group to ask if anyone else felt the “chill in the air” that “ran across” her skin. When I return to my cabin, I fall asleep with the light on.
Done with ghost and history hunting, I’m determined to pursue some nature-based adventures. Heading to Emily Bay, I meet with Jay Barker from Permanent Vacations who’s taking me on a snorkelling tour of the reef. The conditions look a little choppy, and my heart rate increases when Jay tells me we’ll start the tour at aptly named Slaughter Bay. I flipper up and dive in. The water is warm and, while the waves are strong, the reef is soon in view and my initial nerves dissipate. The crackling of the ocean is calming, the coral vibrant and the fish flourishing. Wrasse and blue trevally swim by, while rare Aatuti fish show their colours as the bullies of the bay. It’s without a doubt one of the liveliest reefs I’ve ever set goggles on.
Three hours pass before we pop up for a break. The ripples on the water are lit by the sun, while Lone Pine, which has been here for as long as anyone can remember, stands tall on Point Hunter in the distance. I’m breathless from both battling the current of Slaughter Bay and the inspiring landscape.
With the tide coming in and my skin starting to wrinkle, Jay offers to take me to some rock pools by Anson Bay on the northwest side of the island. Barefooted, I walk up a narrow sandy path and find a rope tied to a tree. “Hold on to this and pull yourself up,” Jay instructs as I start to wish I hadn’t bailed on the past two months of personal training. At the top of the climb, there’s a narrow goat track leading to more ropes, a side-stepping cliff edge and vertical track to the water. I don’t make it all the way down and, in a bid to hide my fear, dub it a good vantage point for photos. As we make our way back to the top of Anson Bay, I kick myself for not going further and vow to come back and tackle the rock pools in the future.
When I wake up the following morning, with muscles stiffer than a log of pine, I’m grateful to have a day free to explore in a Mini Moke. It’s Valentine’s Day so I enlist Jay to be my lunch date and navigator. We walk from the peak of Mount Pitt to Mount Bates, the highest point of the island, where the tropical landscape I had expected is thriving, then settle in at 100 Acres Reserve for a lunch prepared earlier by Picnic in Paradise. Surrounded by the sounds of black noddy terns and white terns nesting nearby, it’s not quite a scene from Bachelor in Paradise, but I feel totally at peace here, and not in a woo-woo ghost kind of way. A session at Serenity Day Spa and homemade pasta from Dino’s at Bumboras, a restaurant run from the owner’s home, built in the late 1800s, is a fitting end to the day.
Early the next morning, a symphony of cows mooing and white terns cacawing forces me from my slumber. A rooster sounds its alarm, crowing a good morning chant to the rising sun. The sun is shining through the window, dulled only slightly by the sheer curtains. The breeze pushes its way through the screen door, filling my room with the briny smell of the ocean. I wrap my hands around a cup of tea and step onto the deck for one last view of the pastoral lands and Pacific blues. I may not have uncovered all the mysteries hidden beneath the Norfolk pines and between the haunted buildings, or found myself the recipient of a bloom at a red-rose ceremony, but beyond its museums and mesmerising sweeping landscapes, this patch of land in the South Pacific has more adventure than a lone traveller could ask for.
First you feel the thumping in your chest, then you hear it. The rhythmic beat of kundu (drums) by the Enga Province men mixed with the smell of canola oil on human flesh that signals the official start of the Hagen Show.
The Hagen Show is an annual sing-sing (the word means gathering) and it features the coming together of dozens of tribal groups in Papua New Guinea’s highland city of Mt Hagen. The show in the town’s rugby stadium was first held in 1961 before the country’s independence as an attempt to unify warring tribes and preserve the region’s traditions. Now it occurs each year in August. Check the dates at papuanewguinea.travel.
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