Finished work last night too late to get home, but not too late to get down to Brighton and spend the night there rather than in the suburbs. And, well, sometimes you just have to say that you made the right choice.
So, here I am in the country that used to be known as Phoenicia. If it wasn’t for these guys, the Cornish wouldn’t ever have had a tin industry. This is my first visit to Lebanon, nearest I’ve been to here before is Cyprus, and that remains a European place with a hint of Asia, whereas this felt more the other way around. It has maybe the most concretized ‘beach’ culture of anywhere I’ve been, but I couldn’t argue with the weather — or the hospitality (see tomorrow’s post).
I have started going to certain places simply because I think there’s a chance that I might get a decent photo. Tjeldstø is a village near the end of a chain of islands that extends into the North Sea to the north-west of Bergen (specifically, it is on the island of Alvøy). For 50km (32 miles) or so, as you drive up route 561 along a chain of bridges, things are much as you see here – rocks, water, sheep. Here’s my best attempt to encapsulate the region in one picture. What is missing are the twenty or so seabirds that were buzzing me at this point. Guys… I wasn’t after your nests, honestly. Just the photo.
Maria-Carme is my hostess/contact/employer/friend in Bergen and almost every trip I have made here during the course of this blog has been down to her, so it’s about time she made it onto the site. As you can see, she has a great look, and this photo also deserves to get on when you consider a) the time it was taken and b) the amount of daylight still in the sky. So much light here at this time of year, so much to see.
The boat that took us to the village trip a couple of days ago also serves as a kind of bus service between the two villages on the island of Wayasewa, this little girl was amusing herself while waiting for it to depart this afternoon. My last full day in Fiji, and only three more left in the Southern Hemisphere before I head for home.
The little island of Kuata is separated from Wayasewa by a few hundred yards of open water. It is uninhabited except for the basic resort which lies on the spit of land to the right. This shot was taken from the top of the huge crag of Vatuvula, which towers over the Wayalailai resort, and to which, each night, a bunch of tourists will be dragged by enthusiastic, barefoot and completely vertigo-resistant Fijian guides. It’s probably worth it, though.
Incidentally film buffs – and Tom Hanks fans – might be interested to know that the island on the horizon, just right of center (with the more visible peaks) was the location for the movie Cast Away.
The Yasawa islands stretch in a more-or-less straight line into the Pacific ocean from a point somewhere to the north-west of the main Fijian islands, and are probably former volcanoes. They are also to be my home (and the home of this Californian girl, and everyone else who was on the Yasawa Flyer catamaran out of Port Denarau marina early this morning) for the next few days. The word ‘Paradise’ is often overused, but in this case I think it’s entirely appropriate. This is a good time.
Some historical notes…. Cooktown is, fairly obviously, named for Captain James Cook, and this river for his ship, the Endeavour, which laid up here in 1770 after it was holed on the Great Barrier Reef. Cook and crew spent six weeks here in June and July, repairing the vessel. During this time they also interacted with the local Aboriginals, and became the first Europeans to see the kangaroo — the story that they named this animal after the local word for ‘I don’t know’ is probably apocryphal, but funny anyway.
The world, in general, then forgot about the Cooktown area for 104 years, until gold was discovered nearby in 1874. A year later Cooktown had 65 premises licensed to serve alcohol, and the local Aboriginals, who had been treated rather decently by the crew of the Endeavour, had their lives and culture wrecked for all time.
Cooktown today feels slightly run-down, very frontier; humid as hell, signs warning of crocodile activity in the estuary, more people of Aboriginal descent than I’ve seen anywhere else in Australia, but, on the whole, more agreeable than Byron Bay, at least. There are no surfer dudes and blonde babes in bikinis, but it’s all the better for it. (Did I really say that?)
I know I did this theme a couple of days ago but the beach was so photogenic this evening that I had little choice but to hit it again. Sorry…
Haven’t decided, in full, what I think of Byron Bay yet – ask me on Monday. However, it cannot be denied that it is a very photogenic place. The peak in the background is Mount Warning, which because of its elevation, is the first place in Australia at which the sun’s rays hit the ground on each equinox: that is, we are basically as far east in Australia as one can go.
