Europe by Eurail

In 1990, I spent almost seven months travelling through Europe. We flew into Vienna, Austria on 15 May 1990, and eventually departed Europe from London on 15 November. For three months, from mid-May until early August, I travelled with a small group through Eastern Europe. I then embarked on a marathon Eurail backpacking odyssey through Western Europe with Dean Keiller, a Victorian farmer, which ultimately concluded in London in mid-November.

Along the way, we travelled by minivan, bus, train, ferry, campervan (that's a story about Morocco I'll save for another time), car and hovercraft.  Dean and I also hitch-hiked in East Germany (it was the only way to get to Berlin) and Switzerland. We ultimately travelled as far north as Harstad, more than 300km above the Arctic Circle, as far south as Meknes in Morocco, as far east as București in Romania, and as far west as the Strait of Gibraltar.  We visited 22 countries in total, much of it thanks to the prudent use of our Eurail ticket.  

For years, I've talked about writing a series of retrospective posts about this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Without a doubt, it's a mammoth undertaking. We were on the road continually, rarely staying more than three days in any location, and I have an album filled with photos, ticket stubs and other memorabilia. There's also a series of storage tubs with additional photos that never made it into the album.

Our Eurail ticket proved a godsend. It offered unlimited travel for a set number of days, plus discounts on a range of other transport options, including buses in Norway and ferries to Greece. Dean and I bought a 20-day pass that could be used freely for three months after activation. 

Initially, we used it to travel from Frankfurt to Helmstedt on the East German border (where we hitch-hiked to Berlin) and then on to Narvik in the north of Norway. By this stage, we'd used five travel days.  It was becoming abundantly clear that if we didn't plan our travel with care, we'd end up seeing very little of Europe. As a result, I spent an evening with a Eurail map and printed timetable, working out a more efficient route through the rest of the continent. 

For example, to make the best use of our Eurail ticket, we often slept on trains as the ticket's terms and conditions allowed us to board a train in the evening and travel overnight without counting the following day as another travel day. Likewise, we'd often stop for half a day at an intermediary destination to see a few sights before moving on again.  This enabled us to explore Pisa and Pompei without using another day on our ticket.

This exercise began a passion for planning travel itineraries that has endured for more than 35 years. As I look back at the route we travelled, I still marvel at how much ground we covered in those final 15 days on our ticket. As we travelled, we met fellow backpackers who often shared insider tips on what to see at a future destination.

However, much of our daily schedule was planned using a paperback travel guide called Let's Go Europe.  If memory serves me well, Dean inherited it from a friend who'd travelled through Europe the previous year.  I'd also hoover up brochures and local maps at every train station. Remember, this was travel in an era before the internet.  We relied entirely on printed maps, timetables and books to guide us on our journey.

We also made good use of youth hostels and regularly camped in campgrounds using a compact pup tent we'd bought in Germany at the start of our Eurail trip. However, we discovered early on that the tent was water-resistant rather than waterproof. It rained one night while camping in Oslo. By morning, everything was soaked.  A few days later, when more rain was forecast in the coastal city of Bergen, we purchased a plastic sheet to peg over the top of the tent during inclement weather.

We also slept on the deck of ferries (in Norway and Greece), under trees in a German forest (which we discovered was next to a railway cutting the following morning), in a park bandstand (Narvik, Norway) and on floor of homes of people we met along the way such as Olga, a lovely woman from Bergen who we met in Eastern Europe. Some locations had special backpacking centres operating for the Summer.  For example, in Berlin, we were told about a temporary campground where raised platforms covered by a roof had been built for itinerant travellers.

The first of my retrospective backpacking posts has just been published. An article about the Lofoten Islands in Norway prompted me to share our five-day excursion above the Arctic Circle. You can read about this journey here.  Stay tuned for more posts in the years ahead.

The Lofoten Islands

The Lofoten Islands extend along the coast of Norway more than 200 km north of the Arctic Circle. This scenic chain of islands is all the rage online at the moment. I’ve seen it popping up again and again on Instagram feeds and in the travel pages of the Sydney Morning Herald, Australia’s largest daily newspaper.

I can personally attest to their natural beauty, having visited them while backpacking in Europe in 1990. We spent several days exploring the islands by sea and by land. My travel buddy, Dean Keiler, and I took a train from Trondheim to Bodø, a distance of 729 kilometres, on 22 August. We then caught an evening bus (which included a scenic ferry crossing at Bognes) to Narvik, arriving shortly after midnight.

I vividly recall getting off the train, along with a small contingent of fellow backpackers we’d met on board, and standing there in the dark, wondering what we’d do for accommodation that night. After some debate, the group decided to head toward town and find a discreet place to camp for the night.

We eventually stumbled across an elevated bandstand in Parkhalltaket, a nearby park, shrouded by a concrete shell. Here we rolled out our travel mats and sleeping bags around 2:00am and spent the night sleeping on the stage. Dean was enthralled by the twilight sky at such a late hour. We’d arrived in Narvik just weeks after the midnight sun started setting again. As a result, we experienced less than two hours of dusky darkness before the horizon slowly lightened once again.

The image above was pulled from Google Maps. It's remarkable to see that the bandstand is still there, more than 35 years later. However, the stainless steel Trinigon 3 National Freedom Monument for peace and freedom is a new addition. It was erected in 1995 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Allies' liberation of Narvik during the final months of World War II.

The following morning, Dean and I caught a local bus to Harstad, a coastal town about 100km further north. At the time, Harstad was considered the gateway to the Lofoten Islands. Once a week, the Hurtigruten, a postal ferry, docked here before sailing to Svolvær, the island chain’s de facto commercial hub, and onward to Bodo.

We booked ourselves into the local camping ground, a relatively simple affair located on a small promontory about 5km from the centre of town. Decades later, I still marvel at the fact that we walked into town and back without a moment’s hesitation. Although the following day, I decided to hang out at the campground while Dean ventured back into town. He returned late afternoon with fish fresh off the boat, which we cooked for lunch and again for dinner.

Harstad was the farthest north we ventured when backpacking in Europe. I still recall our excitement as our train crossed the Arctic Circle south of Bodo. The milestone was made all the more memorable by a herd of reindeer who broke from the trees shortly after and ran along the tracks for more than a hundred metres.

Our ferry ride through the Lofoten Islands on Saturday, 25 August, was relatively uneventful, and the scenery somewhat dull. That is, until we entered the spectacular Trollfjord, a narrow fjord framed by soaring cliffs. The ferry carefully manoeuvred its way along the rocky passageway before being skilfully turned within its own hull length and sailing back out into Tengelfjord. It ultimately proved to be the only truly noteworthy fjord we saw in Norway. I hope to return one day and drive the fjord-filled E39 coastal highway.  The image above was pulled from the web. It barely does justice to the scenery we enjoyed.

Dean and I disembarked for the night at Stamsund, a picturesque fishing village, located about two-thirds along the Loften archipelago. It was the ferry’s final port of call in the islands before making its way to Bodo on the mainland. Stamsund’s Instagram-worthy waterfront, lined with red-walled rorbuer, or fishermen's shacks, is the mainstay of many a Norwegian postcard. The buildings are constructed on land, but with one end on poles in the water, allowing easy access to vessels. The image above was also pulled from the web to illustrate this post.

The following morning, we joined backpackers from our hostel on a hike up the Steinetind, a 509-metre peak, and neighbouring Mannfallet, a mere 308 metres high. The views along the ridge line trail were simply breathtaking. The photo that opens this post was taken near the highest point on our trek, while if you look carefully at the photo below, you'll find me perched on a grassy knoll. A diary entry I made that evening noted that we picked blackberries growing wild across the mountains and enjoyed locally smoked fish for dinner.

Later that evening, we caught an overnight ferry back to Bodo. We slept on the deck along with other backpackers. Dean and I were quickly learning that there was safety in numbers wherever we chose to sleep in the open.  According to my travel diary, we docked in Bodo shortly after 4:30am.

In Bodo, we met a retired air force serviceman. He’d been stationed in Bodo during the Second World War. The old man happily regaled us with wartime stories of the bombing of Bodo before recommending a visit to the local air force base, located on the edge of the city's airport.

For many years, the base has been home to NATO’s Quick Reaction Alert Aircraft. F-16 fighter jets of 132 Luftving are based here, ready to respond at a moment's notice to unidentified aircraft in or approaching NATO airspace. Dean and I watched the military jets taking off and landing from the edge of the airfield. The roar of jet engines and their spectacular drone-chute-assisted landing kept us enthralled for more than an hour.

Later that day, we ventured out to Saltstraumen, an impressive maelstrom. Four times a day, a huge volume of water forces its way through a 150-metre narrow strait, generating chains of powerful whirlpools in its wake. Dean decided this was also the perfect opportunity to enjoy a swim above the Arctic Circle.  I kindly declined an offer to join him in the frigid Arctic waters.

That night, we caught the train back down the coast, stopping briefly in a town called Hell the following morning. Yes, it’s true. I’ve literally been to Hell and back. Here we transferred to another train that took us through scenic Arctic pine forests to Stockholm. I’ll share more about our time in Sweden in another post.

Christmas in July

On Saturday we had friends over for dinner to celebrate Christmas in July. This is our third time hosting mid-Winter Yuletide festivities. Once again Garry cooked up a storm in the kitchen making fruit mince tarts, roasting a Turduken and assembling an impressive trifle. This year we bought a new trifle bowl to display his latest creation.

It took the two of us most of the day to prepare for our guests. I pulled the Christmas decorations out of storage and decorated the house, ironed tablecloths and set a formal table while Garry finished preparing the roast dinner. Our guests arrived at 5:30pm. The last of them left shortly before 2:00am. A fun evening was had by all and our recycling bin is overflowing.

Party on the lake

We’ve spent the weekend in Belmont, a coastal town sandwiched between Lake Macquarie and the beach. Garry and I joined an energetic group for a colourful 54th birthday party. Kim Liddell had originally planned the celebration for her 50th. However, like so many milestone events, COVID intervened and the event was cancelled.

Kim went all out for the event. She installed a temporary dance floor (complete with flashing light tiles) in her home, hired a live band, erected theatrical lighting and organised heaving tables of catering. The party was also themed as a Studio 54 revival. Garry and I bought appropriately themed costumes online weeks ago. Although I had pull out the sewing machine to tailor my shirt. 

We booked the Squid Ink’s Motel for the night. It proved a relatively decent crash pad despite some mixed reviews online and a less than glowing endorsement from Kim. The motel was about 100 metres from her house which made for short downhill stagger afterwards. Much to our surprise it also featured a bright and breezy restaurant with stunning lake views. We enjoyed a spectacular sunset over a light meal before the party, followed by a hearty breakfast the following morning. 

Why we love our apartment

This evening’s sunset says it all. This is why we love our apartment. The views don’t get much better than this.

Sin City

Time for another retrospective post. This time we’re off to Las Vegas. I’ve visited this desert city at least three times in the last 25 years. Growing up, I’d often see the bright lights of Vegas as an iconic backdrop for popular television shows and movies. This gambling mecca, with its themed hotels, glittering stage shows and dazzling lights, was considered Disneyland for adults.

I finally got to visit the infamous Sin City for the first time in 2000. At the time, I was on my way to Text 100's San Francisco office for a two-week General Manager’s secondment. I flew into LA on Friday, 28 July, passed through immigration and transferred mid-morning onto a flight to Las Vegas.

My travel agent booked me into the Circus Circus hotel at the northern end of Las Vegas Boulevard, more commonly known as the city’s famous Strip. At the time, this hotel and casino complex boasted almost 3700 rooms. True to its name, the circus theme could be seen everywhere. Clowns and jugglers roamed the resort’s public spaces, while clown shows and trapeze acts took place several times a day.

For guests not keen on making a wager, the hotel offered a massive video game arcade and carnival-type games. These amusements were in a central atrium called The Midway, which also featured a carousel operating as a bar. I can still recall watching trapeze artists swinging above patrons while sitting at the bar.

However, upon arrival in Las Vegas, I decided to set aside the hotel’s attraction in favour of one that had captured my imagination years earlier. I walked up the strip to Stratosphere, a classic skyline tower with a revolving restaurant and observation deck. The tower is more than 350 metres high, the tallest of its kind in the USA, and second only to Toronto's CN Tower in all of North America.  

The top of the tower contained two thrill rides. Big Shot, a free-fall drop, and High Roller, a spiralling rollercoaster, sit atop its saucer-shaped observation pod. A rollercoaster ride operating 277 metres above the ground sounded awesome. I simply had to try it.

Big Shot was a big mistake! This ride moves up and down the tower's pinnacle needle, dropping riders from a high of 329 m to the top of the outdoor observation deck. Let’s just say, jet lag and an inner ear imbalance caused by 14 hours of juddering trans-Pacific flight, played havoc on my nerves. The resulting free-fall sensation, magnified by long haul travel’s aftermath, was simply terrifying.

In contrast, High Roller proved to be a dud. The rollercoaster circles the pod on tracks with a relatively modest drop, at a relatively sedate speed. It was more akin to an old-fashioned wooden roller coaster ride in terms of its adrenaline rush. The tracks were also set back from the edge of the observation pod, and thus any sensation of flying through the air was limited at best. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one underwhelmed by the experience. According to Wikipedia, the ride was never popular. As a result, it closed on December 30, 2005, and was dismantled shortly after. 

I consoled myself later with a ride on The Big Apple Coaster at New York New York. This rollercoaster travels at 67mph, features a 180-degree “heartline” twist and dive manoeuvre and a stomach-churning 44 metre high speed drop. A section of this coaster even passes through the casino's atrium. Way more exciting than the High Roller, as you can see in the second image above.

I loved my time in Las Vegas. I walked the strip’s entire length, visiting every casino resort. I recall being delighted by the mini Eiffel Tower outside the Paris casino and the faux Italian canals surrounding the Venetian. I watched pirates at Treasure Island do battle in their a twice-daily show on an artificial lagoon outside the resort and marvelled at the tiered interior of the Luxor pyramid.

I also recall checking out the white tigers on display in a glass-walled enclosure inside the Mirage resort. They were part of Siegfried and Roy’s magic show for many years until a tiger mauled Roy Horn in 2003. I never did get to see the show before it closed.

While in Las Vegas, I booked a helicopter flight into the Grand Canyon. I made a return visit to the Grand Canyon when I visited Las Vegas a second time in 2002. You can read about these adventures here.

My return visit was a weekend side trip I’d tacked onto another business trip to the USA. I made the most of my return by visiting attractions I’d missed a few years earlier. This included a day tour to Hoover Dam. The tour included a visit to the turbine hall inside the dam (impressive!). Our guide also took us through corridors buried deep inside the dam, before taking a lift down to an outdoor deck above the penstock outlet. Here we could look up towards the crest of the dam. For a Civil Engineering geek like me, it was pure heaven.

On this second trip, I visited the Hilton Resort’s Star Trek Experience. This attraction included a simulated bridge of the Enterprise, plus an incredibly well-executed molecular transporter experience that took you into a 270° domed theatre with a four-degree-of-motion base platform where a dramatic Klingon battle took place. Again, for a sci-fi fan, this was another iconic once-in-a-lifetime moment. The attraction closed in 2008.

I also recall going to the movies one afternoon to see the recently released Star Wars prequel, Episode II – Attack of the Clones. However, if I’m totally honest, I saw it because I was bored. If you’re not into gambling, there are only so many things available to fill your time. The evenings are different. I’ve attended many spectacular stage shows over the years.

My Vegas show list includes O by Cirque du Soleil at the Bellagio, a rival water extravaganza called Le Rêve at the Wynn Resort, Mystère by Cirque du Soleil at Treasure Island and the Blue Man Group at the Luxor. However, I’ve never been in town while a major artist like Celine Dion was conducting a residency show.

Garry and I returned to Las Vegas for the first time together in August 2010. Highlights from this trip included the Titanic Exhibition at The Luxor. This was an impressive exhibit of artefacts and memorabilia from the ship, including a large section of the hull salvaged in 1998. This impressive structure weighs more than 14 tonnes and was retrieved from the ocean floor at a depth of 3,700 metres.

The Strip in 2010

The Sunshine Coast

I’m almost embarrassed to admit that Garry and I have flown away for another long weekend. Avid readers of this blog will know I was in Christchurch last weekend, and Queenstown the weekend before that. This weekend we’re in Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast. We flew into Maroochydore Airport on Thursday morning.

This is my first time on the Sunshine Coast. Garry and I decided to fly here to cash in a Qantas travel credit that was about to expire. We’ve also talked about buying a second home further north as a warm winter retreat. I’ve suggested anywhere between Yamba (near Ballina) and Noosa would be ideal. We’d then be close to a regional airport, making it easy to reach, and close to an international airport if we ever relocated permanently, i.e. Brisbane Airport.

Last Summer we spent a couple of weeks exploring Yamba, Ballina and Lennox Head. We’ve also stayed on the Gold Coast several times, including a weekend in Surfers Paradise in 2023, and a business trip to Broadbeach last November. This left just the Sunshine Coast to vet and explore.

We’ve cashed in some Accor loyalty points to secure an oceanfront apartment overlooking the Mooloolaba headlands and nearby Alexandra Beach. Sadly the room can only be described as “functional” at best. However, the weather has been superb with highs of 21C. Garry and I were out in short sleeves while visiting Noosa yesterday. This is exactly how I envisioned a winter retreat destination.

On Thursday we explored the outer suburbs of Maroochydore, Kawana Waters, Birtinya, Bokarina and Mooloolaba. Yesterday, we drove up the coast through central Maroochydore, and on to Twin Waters, Marcoola, Coolum Beach, Sunshine Beach and Noosa Heads. We now have a great feel for the Sunshine Coast, and know exactly what our money will buy. Watch this space.

UPDATE: 10:30pm

We’ve finished off our long weekend with a superb meal at Belle Venezia. This is an award-winning Italian restaurant on the foreshore at Mooloolaba. Garry went for the Morton Bay Bug spaghetti, while I tried the crayfish ravioli. However, the highlight of the evening was undoubtedly the locally made Blood Orange sorbet.

Banks Peninsula

I’ve just returned from a three day weekend in Christchurch. It’s my third trip across the Tasman in a single month. Definitely a personal record, one I doubt I’ll ever repeat. Why a third time?

Sadly my mother’s older brother, Uncle Rich, passed away last week after a brief illness. His death was caught everyone by surprise. Unlike my mother, Dick was still living semi-independently and was relatively high functioning despite the onset of dementia in recent years.

I got wind of his sudden illness while visiting Queenstown. He died the day after I returned to Sydney. After some reflection, I decided to cross the Tasman again for his funeral. In part, I wanted to honour the effort so many relatives made in attending my Mum’s funeral last year. I was also keen to support my Auntie Pam, Mum’s older sister, who’s lost two siblings in a single year.

The decision was easy to make thanks to a super cheap airfare. I cashed in some frequent flyer points and flew to Christchurch for less than $270. I also scored a great hotel deal via Amex, plus a discounted rental car for the weekend. Lo and behold, I found myself back in the Qantas First Class lounge at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning.

My flight landed shortly after 1:30pm. Within an hour I was in my rental car and heading for the city. I decided to make the most of the final hours of sunlight (sunset was at 5:05pm) and drove straight to the Port Hills. I drove up the Summit Road, taking time to stop and admire the view along the way.

I eventually came across a hilltop reserve offering an unrivalled view of Lyttelton. I arrived just in time to watch the hill’s lengthening shadow extinguish the sun’s final rays over the town. Chatteris Bay looked equally stunning in the distance. The view did come at a cost. The wind was bitterly cold. It left me shivering and I all but lost sensation in my hands. I finished the afternoon with an impromptu visit to Pam’s house before finally checking into my hotel shortly after 6:00pm.

Sunday dawned bright and clear, albeit with cold and crisp temperatures. I decided to make the most of my free day. After a hearty breakfast I drove out to Akaroa, stopping first for a brisk stroll a long the shore at Birdling Flats beach, the arcing spit that separates Lake Ellesmere from the Pacific Ocean. 

I’m so glad stopped at the spit. It’s an incredible formation. Much to my surprise I discovered the broad beach and expansive dunes consist entirely of smooth oval gravel pebbles. Incredibly they’ve all come from the Southern Alps, swept down to the coast by the braided Rakaia River, about 40km down the coast. Their smooth and rounded appearance reflects their origin as rubble ground smooth by glaciers grinding their way through the alps.

Akaroa was the same quaint town I vaguely remember from my last visit more than 30 years ago. I stopped to wander the village waterfront, including a cafe-filled esplanade at Main Wharf and a second stop near Daly’s Wharf. The harbour simply dazzled in the afternoon sun, but a bitter wind made for brisk walk.

On the edge of town I was lucky enough to find its relocated lighthouse open to visitors. Inside a volunteer guide showed me how its light was made to rotated by a falling weight. As the weight dropped it slowly spun a greased turntable. The weight had to be rewound with a hand crank every couple of hours. Apparently the lighthouse keeper did this every night for decades until a diesel generator relieved him of the burden.

The lighthouse was completed in 1879. However, its current location inside Akaroa Harbour isn’t its original home. It once stood 10km away on the wind-swept Akaroa Heads, at the entrance to the harbour. In 1980, after a new automated lighthouse was commissioned, it was dismantled into three sections, relocated and rebuilt.

I finished my tour of the Banks Peninsula with a road trip along the Akaroa Summit Road, before crossing to the opposite coast via Gebbies Pass. I drove through Governors Bay and Cass Bay as the sun was setting before returning to Christchurch via the Lyttelton tunnel. I then joined Pam’s children and grandchildren for a family dinner. The return journey was simply breathtaking. I lost count of how often I stopped to admire the view and take more Instagram worthy photos.

Early Monday morning I collected my brother Matt from the airport (shortly after 6:00am). We drove back to my hotel for breakfast. With a few hours to fill before the funeral we decided to ride the gondola up the Port Hills. As fate would have it we arrived shortly after a school load of schoolchildren. We queued more than half an hour for a gondola.

I’d climb a knoll next to gondola’s summit station on Saturday without appreciating it proximity. It was a surprise to discover it standing there as I crested the hill. I decided not to venture inside so it was still a new experience when we revisited it on Monday. Although, much like Saturday, the wind was still bitterly cold. Once again Chateris Bay glowed in the sunlight. 

The gondola’s base station is next to the mouth of the Lyttelton tunnel. Hence, after returning to the carpark we decided to drive through for a quick look around Lyttelton. I was keen to see the remnants of the town’s iconic Timeball Station. The original structure was destroyed by an earthquake in 2011. Its stone tower has subsequently been reconstructed amidst the station’s crumbling foundation. 

We finished our morning with a scenic drive along the coast to Sumner, before returning to my hotel to prepare for Dick’s funeral. The remainder of the day was taken up by the service, and subsequent reception, before returning to cousin Nicki’s home for a light supper. The service bought back fond childhood memories, as well as some sad moments reflecting on my mother’s death 12 months ago.

I took Matt and my cousin, Roanne, to the airport about 6:15pm, then returned to my hotel for an early night. My flight on Tuesday morning departed at the ungodly hour of 6:00am. As a result, my alarm woke me shortly after 3:00am. By 9:00am I was back home in Sydney.

It was lovely catching up with family again. I also enjoyed being outdoors and soaking up some stunning scenery. Despite the sad occasion, my weekend away was a perfect anecdote for this year’s stressful start. Sadly, our business is struggling in the current economic climate. As a result, most days feel like a bit of a slog. A little escapism was just what the doctor ordered.