region: Oceania

In the mosh pit

A Festival Debutant

When we meet Paul Mac he doesn’t know all that much about the Meredith Music Festival. One of Australia’s seminal electronic music artists, Mac first rose to prominence as one half of dance act Itch-E and Scratch-E, famously thanking the “ecstasy dealers of Sydney” when accepting the group’s 1995 ARIA award. He has collaborated with the likes of Silverchair, remixed everyone from Kylie Minogue to George Michael and carved out an accomplished solo career. But when we meet Mac he has not been to Meredith. Not quite yet anyway.

The setting for our encounter is a campervan depot in Melbourne’s western suburbs one Friday afternoon in December, the opening day of the Meredith Music Festival. A sense of nervous anticipation is evident amongst those collecting vehicles for the 90-minute drive to the festival site. Mac is billed to take to the stage at 2am on Sunday morning as part of Itch-E and Scratch-E, and is genuinely intrigued as to what awaits him at the end of the highway. A three-day music festival with only one stage? And you can bring your own alcohol?

Festival goers take time out to enjoy the sunset at Meredith’s Inspiration Point.
A Festival History Lesson

When Meredith was first held in 1991 as an end-of-year party in a paddock for friends and friends of friends, the home movie footage of the gathering gave no inkling it would become a staple on the Australian festival calendar. The musical entertainment was showcased from the back of a truck and at times drew what appeared to be only passing attention. Attendees sat on hay bales and drained cans of beer before staggering to tents and cars as the air temperature dropped and fatigue set in. “It wasn’t even meant to be a festival,” festival co-founder Greg Peele later observed. “It was just a party in the bush.”

Yet the DNA of the event that has flourished in subsequent years, accruing goodwill annually among its rusted-on followers, was evident at this first tentative step. One stage. BYO alcohol. No commercial branding.

The story of the festival is the story of the Nolans – Jack and Mary – on whose family farm the festival is staged, and their son Chris, one of the event’s instigators. In the four years following its debut, Meredith grew organically, adopting a ‘better before bigger’ mantra.

However, the personal circumstances of Chris Nolan meant that 1995 was almost the final festival. While working as a lawyer in Hanoi, Chris suffered a multi-organ collapse. Critically ill, he spent six months in a coma. The brain injury he sustained means that, 16 years later, Chris is confined to a wheelchair and cannot see or speak. However he is able to communicate and his passion for the festival and its music is undiminished. Festival-goers drop by each year to Chris’s ‘tent with a view’, dubbed the Nolan Stand, to convey their personal connection with the event that still bears its host’s fingerprints.

Adam Green dives into Meredith at one of the past festivals.
A Festival Locale

The open-air, multi-day music festival is a global phenomenon, but each variation has quirks and characteristics that reveal something about its hosts. Attending a local festival is a sure-fire way to plug into a destination. Glastonbury is unmistakably English, from the stiff upper lip required to stare down grim weather conditions, to the eccentricity evident in its counter-culture heritage. The Fuji Rock Festival, which has not been staged at Mount Fuji since the disastrous initial event in 1997, is a window into Japanese culture. And Serbia’s Exit Festival has a unique history (it began as an anti-government protest) and location (on the banks of the Danube) that provides visitors with an appreciation of its host nation.

Australian music festivals also wear their sense of place on their sleeve. The Woodford Folk Festival is unambiguously a Queensland gathering, and Adelaide’s parkland setting and arts community distinguish WOMADelaide. Similarly, the essence of the Meredith Music Festival can be traced to its locale. The whistlestop township of Meredith is located between western Victoria’s two major regional cities, Ballarat and Geelong.

As the organisers acknowledge, the festival site can sometimes feel like its very own country, but local people and local features abound. The City of Ballarat Municipal Brass Band has opened proceedings each Saturday morning since 2005, and members of Meredith’s sporting and community groups toil over the hotplates at the perennially popular Tucker Tent. Funds raised from sales of bacon-and-egg breakfast rolls to hungry patrons recently helped the Meredith Primary School acquire gym equipment, funded an upgrade of the Meredith Golf Club’s mower and bankrolled the repair of the nets at the Meredith Tennis Club.

A Festival Soundtrack

The single stage at Meredith sits at the bottom of a gently sloping tree-lined tract dubbed the ‘Supernatural Amphitheatre’, or ‘Sup’. The evil of drink tickets has no place here. Coolers loaded with BYO beverages are dragged into place with couches for what is invariably top-shelf people watching, backed by a superb soundtrack. Ringed by food outlets and two bars, the setting is never static. As the day progresses in the Sup, the sun crosses overhead before dipping beneath the paddocks in the west. The human tide ebbs and flows from nearby campsites as artists arrive, perform and take their leave.

It’s all about the music, right? The brains behind Meredith back their knack of programming a crowd-pleasing on-stage lineup. The pre-festival primer, never shy of eyebrow-raising adjectives, billed the 2012 line-up as a “eucalyptic, pre-apocalyptic neuvo classic charismatic flyin’ purple people eater bush rave-up happening…featuring the crackest squad of musical mavericks”.

It was certainly eclectic, ranging from 85-year-old blues saxophonist Big Jay McNeely to Syrian wedding singer Omar Souleyman. It was also contemporary, boasting Perth-bred psych-rockers Tame Impala and Canadian ‘dream pop maven’ Grimes, both of whom featured atop many critics’ best-of-2012 lists. And it was, at times, transcendent. Never more so than throughout Spiritualized’s Friday night performance and then during the amphitheatre singalong the following evening when Primal Scream delivered ‘Come Together’. Asked about the set months later, Primal Scream frontman Bobby Gillespie recalled a “really magical energy in the audience… It was like a force field. I loved that gig”.

Big Jay McNeely entertains the crowd.
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Sophia Brous takes to the stage at Meredith.
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A Festival Ritual (or Three)

Meredith trades in traditions: moments that have been repeated and then enshrined as part of the folklore of the festival. The most infamous is the Meredith Gift, a footrace that was devised at short notice to fill time when Spencer P Jones was running late for his Sunday afternoon spot in 1994. The handful of entrants swelled annually in proportion to the festival and the dash became more fiercely contested and, well, more naked, on account of the stipulation that runners be ‘nude or underpanted’.

Another Meredith ritual is ‘the boot’. Melbourne live music audiences are not a particularly demonstrative bunch. Their non-expressive ways have prompted visiting musicians to dub the Victorian capital ‘the city of folded arms’. However, over the course of the weekend at Meredith, at least one act will be left in no doubt as to the level of audience appreciation. A moment will arrive, most likely late in their set, when they will gaze out over the amphitheatre to a sea of footwear being held aloft.

‘The boot’ was first witnessed during the 2007 edition of Meredith’s sister festival, Golden Plains, staged at the same location every March. Patrons of Meredith’s December event quickly adopted the custom, bestowing the honour on the likes of Paul Kelly (2009), Neil Finn (2010) and Graveyard Train (2011). According to the festival’s mythical matriarch, Aunty Meredith, this collective display “happens when the whole of the amphitheatre unites in appreciation of something that has wildly exceeded expectation. You can’t plan the boot. It can strike at any time of day or night.”

Other organic traditions await the uninitiated, including ‘the red tree’ (a painted gum where red-haired festival-goers gather at an appointed time) and the ‘arch of love’ (a mysterious installation that has hosted wedding ceremonies since first appearing in the mid-90s). The next Meredith tradition? My vote is for the regular return of the homemade Nick Cave rocking horse, delivered by one proud punter to the amphitheatre in 2011.

Revellers show their approval with the Meredith ‘boot’.
A Festival Weather Forecast

Uncooperative weather conditions are the scourge of outdoor music festivals the world over. Meredith is preceded by a fortnight of anxious scrutiny of meteorological predictions for the presence of unwanted guests: blazing heat, wind gusts that send tents cartwheeling, and torrential rain that transforms walking tracks into watercourses. Fortunately, conditions at December’s festival were benevolent: a made-to-order summer evening on the Friday followed by a blustery but dry Saturday.

Most Meredith veterans will recount the weather-affected years with a mix of disbelief and pride. Surviving the 2004 festival, that of the ‘100-year storm’, is often worn as a badge of honour. The tempest that descended on the Friday evening was so brutal that the plug was very nearly pulled on the entire weekend. The following night, festival favourites The Dirty Three performed against a breathtaking backdrop: an electrical storm that hissed and spat over neighbouring paddocks but ultimately spared the festival site. Melbourne musician Dave Larkin, who has graced the Meredith stage with his former group Dallas Crane, was among the gobsmacked crowd. “The band is incredible without the light show,” he says. “But with God on lights, they were amazing.”

If that episode constituted a near miss by Mother Nature, her aim was true at the 2008 edition of the festival headlined by MGMT. It really rained. And then rained some more. Some attendees were woefully ill-equipped for the onslaught. Others were creative in their battle with the elements, a number donning both full-length wetsuits and football boots for the duration of the weekend. A wise man once said: “Only bad drugs or bad weather can ruin a weekend at Meredith.” Experience suggests that even very bad weather may not be enough.

A Festival Convert

It is approaching 3am on Sunday morning, around 36 hours after our encounter with Paul Mac at the campervan depot. Mac has just closed out Itch-E and Scratch-E’s 60-minute set to a throbbing Meredith amphitheatre and has seen enough to make an assessment of this annual gathering.

“Hey, Meredith,” declares Mac as he prepares to depart the stage to a cheering early morning crowd, “this is the best fucking festival!”

 

Weeks later, when the paddock dust has settled, Mac’s opinion is more considered but has not changed. “Amazing, such a pleasure to play,” he says, listing with approval Meredith’s distinguishing features: BYO alcohol – “super cool, instead of being ripped off by stupid bar prices” – and a single stage – “makes for a more universal experience, where we all go through it together. I was told that it was the music lover’s festival before I got there, and that was totally true.”

It should come as no surprise that a seasoned festival pro like Paul Mac has been seduced. After all, to know Meredith is to love Meredith.

 

 

Sleeping with the Fishes

Staring in through the gigantic underwater window, the two beautiful batfish seem very interested in my starter. I don’t blame them – it’s a sensational seafood bisque – but over their shoulder a big barracuda looms, possibly with murder on its mind.

Briefly I worry for the batfish – they seem such a lovely couple, I’d hate one of them to get eaten because they’re eyeballing my entree – but then the main course arrives (a juicy steak, barbequed to perfection out on the deck) along with another glass of shiraz, and my attention is distracted from the threat of imminent carnage outside.

The batfish seem to have a standover guy protecting them anyway, a massive Maori wrasse called George. Apparently, until recently George used to be girl, but then his boyfriend died and, well…it’s complicated out there in the big blue.

My host, Nathalie, gives me all the gossip as she refills my glass before serving dessert. Over crème brûlée I peer through my personal portal out onto the Great Barrier Reef and wonder what will swim past next. It’s a million times better than a night in front of the TV this. Nearly all the M-rated action takes place on the reef at night and all the drama is live, totally wild and completely uncensored.

I feel like I know most of the main characters. I was hanging out with many of them barely an hour before, during a night dive from the moon deck that leads to the open ocean from the staircase next door. Earlier I’d snorkelled with another couple of locals, 
a two-metre giant Queensland groper and a turtle called Chunk, who is missing a bit of himself thanks to a shark.

Unless you fork out for an expensive live-aboard diving trip, it’s hard to get a good goggle at the Great Barrier Reef by night. Even then, you might get an hour-long night dive – if you’re qualified and good on your air – and that’s it. What I’m experiencing is altogether in another league (under the sea).

I’m the first sleepover guest on a semi-permanent pontoon anchored close to Hardy’s Reef, an hour’s boat trip from Hamilton Island in the heart of the Whitsundays archipelago in tropical North Queensland. Earlier it had been packed with daytrippers, but I waved them all goodbye on the 4pm boat and have had the place to myself since. Well, me and a crew of two reef-sleep hosts and a couple of dive masters who have been guiding me around the reef.

On the top deck, where we had a sundowner as the sun slipped into the Coral Sea, Amos, the captain of this structure, has set me up a swag to sleep in. Retiring for the night, belly and brain full with fine fare and food for thought, I stare up at a kaleidoscope of stars and planets as the movement of the pontoon gently rocks me to sleep.

There’s zero light pollution out here, and the sky above is as mesmerising as the sea below. Tomorrow I’ll venture up, instead of down, and check out the scene from above in a helicopter tour over Hardy’s Reef.

 

Vanuatu

This picture-perfect island archipelago with its sub-tropical climate, sand-fringed islands and rich marine life fits the bill as a dream Pacific getaway. Vanuatu is suitably photogenic – both naturally and with it’s photo-loving people and hip-shaking festivals. One of the best known, land diving (the original bungee) on Pentecost will have you biting your fingernails to the quick.

You might rub shoulders with the locals at kava bars, where you’ll be offered a bowl of the intoxicating liquid. Traditional life continues on many of the islands and villagers will likely welcome you. Be warned: they may love to eat root vegetables (kasava, taro or yam) but you probably won’t, although you should at least give them a try.

The capital, Port Vila, errs on the touristy side of things, but has colonial charm and dining in its restaurants with water vistas is a treat. Get your fix of live-it-up decadence one day then dabble in adventure sports next by visiting the active volcano on Tanna or diving on the wreck of the SS President Coolidge on Espiritu Santo.

Just remember to leave your city slicker mentality at home. These islands are chillaxed to the max – even in the capital there’s no bargaining or hawkers.

Tahiti

Explorers wouldn’t have believed their luck when they landed in Tahiti, the crown jewel of French Polynesia. In time, islands like Bora Bora would become renowned as a honeymooner’s barefoot bliss. But it’s not all snogging and snorkels – you don’t need to be loved-up to escape here.

The more adventurous will be rewarded for leaving their, albeit seductive, villas with the chance to crawl through lava tubes and swim with sharks. The dramatic peaks and valleys of the main island beckon climbing, the cascading waterfalls yearn to be abseiled and rocky outcrops need someone to catapult off them. After all that, camping on a deserted beach is a delicious flirt with isolation.

Or Frenchophiles will love the ability to practice their French and cycle around Papeete with a baguette in the basket.

However you spend your time here, the Tahitian catch cry “‘aita pea pea” meaning “not to worry” will infect your way of being.

Solomon Islands

The Solomons are what tropical island daydreams are made of – the type of daydream not populated by money and fame, but by empty beaches fringed with coconut palms and dense tropical jungle. Mountains breaking through the canopy in the distance and turquoise waters stretch to golden sunsets. Of course, dugout canoes and bamboo huts also feature prominently in these spectacular reveries.

All this is lazing in the breeze on an archipelago located to the east of Australia but a world away. Game fishing, scuba diving, snorkelling or any other type of water activity is on the agenda, along with fruity cocktails in the evening and the sound of traditional Melanesian rhythms to lull you into the sense that you’ve definitely found paradise. Hint: you have.

More macabre but grittily interesting is the history of cannibalism and warfare on the islands, seen in the skull caves or the World War II wrecks that make great diving. Try an outrigger canoe adventure, wander through small, vibrant markets or just enjoy the ever-smiling hospitality of the locals.

Samoa

This collection of islands in the Pacific has all the trimmings of a traditional holiday destination – think soft sandy beaches, swaying palms and warm lagoons – but it’s the wilder side that has us hooked. Despite being just a five-hour flight from Australia, very few flashy resorts have set up shop, meaning the jungle still tumbles down near the sea and the waterfalls and waves come tourist free. It’s even possibly to swim in the country’s most Instagrammed location, the astonishing To Sua Ocean Trench, without having to share.

Apia, the laid-back capital, sits on the coast of the main island, known as Upolu. A day here should be enough before you head off to explore the country’s natural playground. Stop by the fish market selling underwater creatures almost too beautiful to eat, and book in to one of the restaurants serving giant lobsters and the local specialty of tuna oka, a delicious raw fish salad. As far as tourism centres go, the little cultural village down near the harbour is a good one, with wood carvers, meals cooked in the umu (earth oven) and traditional dance performances. Depending on the day, you might even get the chance to watch someone getting a pe’a (traditional tattoo) hammered into their skin. Once a year the place comes to life for the Teuila Festival, with dancers twirling fire and knives on a big stage in the centre of town, and local beauties sashaying down the runway at the Miss Samoa Pageant.

Life here blends the tradition of Fa’a Samoa (the Samoan way) with Christianity, and you’ll find places of worship in every tiny town. On Sundays everyone goes to church, while the umus cook a post-prayer feast, and their smoke covers the island.

Savai’i, the country’s largest island, a 90-minute ferry ride away, has just one main road circling it. Few travellers to Samoa make it this far, and even fewer stay here overnight. But it’s worth the journey. Fales (traditional open-air huts) sit on beaches all around the island, and with tropical weather year-round, crossing a couple of metres from your bed into the water to swim with turtles is the ultimate island experience.

Papua New Guinea

Exploring one of Australia’s closest neighbours isn’t quite as simple as you might think. Careful planning is essential for visitors to PNG, but even then the lack of infrastructure can throw up obstacles. The committed will be richly rewarded though. This a place where authentic experiences still abound, and indigenous tribes – from the Huli and its wigmen to the mudmen of Asaro – still live in much the same way as they have for thousands of years.

Most people will enter the country through Port Moresby, an intimidating place for many, but also the last place in the country you’ll find anything that could possibly be described as a luxury item or experience. Check out the new Parliament Haus and the Botanical Gardens if you find yourself with a few hours free.

More than likely, you’ve come to PNG to either walk in the footsteps of soldiers on the famous Kokoda Track or head to the island provinces for unbeatable scuba diving, surfing or to climb the volcano near Rabaul. But there are other areas to be explored. Not much has changed in the Highlands, with its rugged mountain ranges, fertile valley, rare and beautiful birds of paradise and more than 700 different cultural groups who live here, but mining may prove a threat to both the landscape and traditional ways.

Many of the provinces also hold festivals throughout the year, and ones like the Kenu and Kundu Festival in Alotau and the Hagen Show in Western Highlands are excellent opportunities for travellers to meet PNG’s people and celebrate their unique cultures.

Niue

If you blinked three times and wondered where? when you arrived on this page, you wouldn’t be the only one. Niue (pronounced new-ay) is a tiny dot in a vast ocean. Head 2400 kilometres northeast of New Zealand, and into the triangle formed by Tonga, Samoa and the Cook Islands, and you’ll find it: all 260 square kilometres of coral atoll also known as the Rock of Polynesia.

If you’re expecting never-ending stretches of white sand backed by swaying palms, you might be a little disappointed. There’s just one beach here: Hio, at the bottom of a cliff, is tiny, but the neighbouring rock pool is an ideal snorkelling spot, full of vividly hued fish, coral and a cavernous below-surface landscape.

Travellers to Niue are looking for one thing – an escape (although you won’t be leaving the modern world completely behind, since this was the first place in the world to offer free wi-fi throughout the country). The rocky coastline and pristine reefs make for plenty of swimming, snorkelling and diving opportunities, as well as the opportunity to explore coastal caves. The drop-offs are close to shore, which is a big tick for anyone who likes to fish. Tuna, sailfish and GTs are all part of the catch, and there’s always the opportunity to join one of the local fisherman in his vaka (canoe) to see how it’s done. Spinner dolphins live permanently in the waters off the island and several operators take visitors out to swim with them or, for those around between July and October, there’s a rare opportunity to swim with nursing humpback whales. That deep water close to shore means they can be just 20 metres away from the coastline.

Back on land, trek through the interior or grab a mountain bike to do some exploring. Central Alofi is the home of a twice-weekly market (Tuesday and Friday), where you can stock up on tropical fruits or try local delicacies like uga (coconut crab).

New Zealand

While we love to diss their accents and make bad sheep jokes, the land of the Kiwi is blessed with scenery so otherworldly you’d think you were on the set of a Lord of the Rings film. Which is probably because you are.

For a snow or adventure sports holiday, New Zealand comes up trumps for affordability and quality. For those less enthused with getting among the cold stuff, there is hiking to be done in the tranquil mountains. Go ga-ga over a gaggle of glaciers – if you are ever going to splash out on a hell ride, this is the place to do it.

The indigenous Maori culture has been maintained, preserved and respected better than pretty much anywhere else in the world, and spending some time on a cultural tour is well worth the effort. You’ll also find the live music scene worth a look and, if you are really, really desperate (we jest), check out the national obsession, rugby. Best of all, at the end of every day, you can indulge in a tipple of a world-acclaimed sauvignon blanc or ale at one of the plethora of vineyards or microbreweries while munching on some world-class grub. Choice eh, bro?

New Caledonia

A tropical oasis brimming with French fashion and cuisine, New Caledonia is the St Tropez of the Pacific – but don’t be fooled, this island offers much more than croissants by the beach.

Noumea is the capital and the region with the greatest French influence. The resort-like atmosphere is peppered with colonial architecture, boutique shops and al fresco dining. Further north on the main island is where you’ll find a completely different New Cal. Go horse riding in the mountains from La Foa, take a helicopter ride over the Heart of Voh, and visit the rural town of Bourail. Known for its cattle stations and cowboys, each August Bourail also hosts its annual Agricultural Fair, featuring a rodeo that attracts a crowd of around 25,000 people.

Off the main island of Grand Terre, you’ll fall in love with the stunning Isle of Pines. Known as the jewel of the Pacific, it was once a French penal colony; these days people wish they could be trapped here.

Of course, the whole shebang is surrounded by a fringing reef that encompasses a 1.3 million square kilometre marine park. If the blue stuff is your thing, you can snorkel, dive, swim, windsurf, stand-up paddleboard and kayak to your heart’s content.