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Friday 16 November 2007

Kayak trip in Doubtful Sound

The discovery of Doubtful Sound is pretty complicated since we need to take a first boat to cross the Manapouri lake before hopping on a bus up to the mouth of the fjord. The ones who survived these 2 tests generally choose a second boat to enjoy the cruise, sipping a drink. On the other hand, this relative difficulty of access is a guarantee of tranquility pushing away the herds of tourists who prefer keeping in mind the images and steep lines of Milford Sound. As for us, after the trek, we are going to relax our legs and make our arms work because we decided to discover this area by kayak.
Doubtful sound doesn't have the greatness and the mind-boggling verticality of Milford sound but we sample the exquisite pleasure of feeling alone. Our paddles break through the oily sea and twist the reflected images of the flora kingdom that flanks the banks. The cliffs are notched by sterilized, clean gullies. On the walls, the nature is so dense that the ground isn't tough enough to support the weight of all this vegetation and the extra scrub triggers a tree avalanche which washes out a whole part of the granite wall and throws roots, trunks and branches into the abyss of the fjord.
We won't eyewitness this defeaning chaos and our paddles that gently stroke the water are the most violent noise we'll hear. A supreme serenity in an outstanding country.

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Thursday 8 November 2007

The forgotten beaches of Abel Tasman park

A fun way of moving was developped at the entrance of the Abel Tasman national park. In order to reach different areas in the park, there are the aqua-taxis. We hop on one of them, the drive changes into a tractor's user for some minutes et leads us to the water access. He unties the boat and meet us again on board.
The journey is punctuated with explanations on the park and its animals. Dolphins and blue penguins swim around the boat while seals lounge about on wet rocks. How could it be better to start ? Our looks run along the numerous deserted beaches which dot the coast and promise some great hours of walk.
2 hours by boat and here we are at Totaranui where we load our bags and begin the trek. The path is perfectly marked-out and offers incredible vistas on these ochre-sanded beaches swept by an endemic-blue sea.

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We leave the path to walk on a beach before dipping again into the maze of the welcoming nature. The scrubby ferns overlook us while the crescent-shaped beaches wander within the depths of the coastal path. A lot of visitors prefered the kayak as a way of discovery. As for us, we must wait for the low tide to carry on our trip. Everyone takes off his shoes, and carrying them in the hand, we cross this bit of wet sand the ocean offers us for a few hours before taking back possession of its land. The path isn't difficult, however we take a large number of breaks - mainly when the path fades into a pristine, beautiful beach.
We put up the tent in a reserved campsite. The tide begins to rise and changes our resting area into an isolated peninsula that only a few birds and the faraway waves surround with a soft melody.
The next day in the morning, the rucksacks packed up, we start again rubbing our soles into these idyllic scenery. The time slides and the pictures impregnate our mind. A genuine kindness. Maybe, we'll never come back here and we enjoy these moments as if they were unique. And, if we had to live them again, we'd tell us the same things but this time we'd swap our shoes for a pair of paddles and a kayak.

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Tuesday 9 October 2007

On a dromedary's back in the Thar desert

The stone castle dances in the desert wind of the Rajasthan. These thick bulwarks carry a bloody, more or less glorious past within their bowels. The fort of Jaisalmer knew its moments of prosperity, at the thriving time of the silk roads. Vendors of every kind sold their textiles, spices, elixirs and miraculous products. But the development of the maritime saling in the south of India suddenly shattered the opulent prosperity of the city nestled on the edge of the Thar desert. It had to wait for several centuries before some backpackers rediscover the serenity of this small hamlet overlooked by lofty ramparts. Sensing the fledgling market, a great deal of inhabitants turned towards this new type of modern business, the tourism. To the point to spoil the old buildings, from now on being weighed down with signs utterly dedicated to the tourists.
The touts fidget as soon as we get off the train and are omnipresent in the city. Up to lose patience several times. The inebriating alleyways within the ramparts are dotted with souvenirs shops and snake among sable-hued delicately chiseled buildings. Jaisalmer epitomizes Rajasthan where the time seems to get fixed. Most of tourists come here to enjoy riding a dromedary and sleeping on the sand dunes of the Thar desert.

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We leave for a 3-day meharé in the desert. The jeep draws away the fort of Jaisalmer while a swarm of windmills whril in the glowing morning sky.

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A short stop at the royal cenotaphs and we take our way again. We plunge into the flat and dry roads of the desert.

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On the edge of the road, 2 heavily loaded dromedaries wait for their hosts. We make Badia's acquaintance who will guide us throughout this stroll in the desert.
We sit astride the animals and with a slow and gentle pace we leave to the unknown. The dromedary is not really comfortable. We often stop to get over our trials. We take advantage of the stops to watch this fascinating animal able of staying 2 weeks without drinking and then swallowing 200 liters of water within 3 minutes. The soles of their leg cushion the heavy carcass when the long bend neck swings at the rate of the steps. A timeless experience while we reach a bit of sand dunes where we get off the animal to spend the night. We run onto the sandy mounds. A magical sensation of the feet which sink into the blong sun-heat sand. We sit down on the crest of a dune, vague look and fixed mouth. These desert wind-shaped landscapes penetrate and mesmerize us. We share the diner in a deep silence and dash to settle a pile of blankets up a dune. Lying down on the sand area and the eyes skywards, the star-dotted sky shows our pettiness. Without being able to say anything, our looks peer into the sky, endeavour to piece the constellations together, capture the fleeting apparition of a shooting star or the slow trip of a satellite. We fall asleep as in a dream, a dream full of stars.

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We sit astride our mounts for a long stroll, far from all. We start again our slow drift towards the inknown et lose the notion of time and space. Bushes and small trees immortalize the few signs of life that surround us and mark a set of dunes out. Without comparison with the Sahara infinity, the sunset over the dunes of the Thar desert remains poignant. The golden disc vanishes in the distance, the bronze shades darken and the first stars break through the celestial vault. A second magical night lying down on a dune, the hands crossed under the head and the eyes getting the light of these millions of stars and galaxies that slowly turn around the polar star. Silence and admiration.

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Third and last day of our stroll and our dromedaries drop us off at the edge of the asphalted road where a jeep waits for us to go back to the fort of Jaisalmer.
A break in the desert utterly out of time and completely invigorating.

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