"Our land abounds in nature's gifts... A beauty rich and rare..."

Our land? Bloody kiwis! So they're not content with bludging the hard earned dole off more deserving true-blue Aussies who need it to buy those tacky made-in-China plastic Aussie day flags to stick on the tinted back windows of their low-slung '91 Holden Commodores? Now they're trying to claim a piece of the sunburnt land as their own? We'll see youse at CronnullER maaate!

Welcome to Australia Day 2008. The sun is out, the sea is sparkling, the barbecues are firing (as are the chunks of glorified carbon Rock is "flame-grilling"), the cricket is meandering towards a lazy draw, and John Howard is making his familiar if-you-can't-bowl-a-googly-get-out... hang on, scratch that last one. What hasn't changed is this year's destination - once again it's off to the pristine white sands of Jervis Bay, that slice of beachside paradise 2.5 hrs south of Sydney.

But with digs like this it's a bit hard to summon up the motivation to head out into the blazing Aussie day sun. Even if the surf is only right down the road.

Yeah I know the flowers are a darn sight nicer than looking at Rock in speedos, but can we get get going already? By the time Mei has finished applying her spf five zillion moisturizer/sunblock combo global warming will have melted the polar icecaps and the beach will be submerged.

Here's a shot to separate the true j00ster fan from the pretender. If this doesn't send you racing for the close button on your browser than... you have very little in the way of a life. Here Rock gives the famous sand a run for its money in the Whitest in the World stakes. On the plus side, the paparazzi outbid this website for the speedo pics. See the Beach Body Shockers edition of Women's Weekly if you're interested (as a bonus, once you've thumbed through the titillating centrefold, you can read all about how a 1000 year old intergalactic scientologist conspiracy ended Tom & Nicole's wedded bliss).

More eye candy, albeit not in the same league as the previous pic. I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you're not on the beach today you're un-Australian.

But wait, there's more. Yep, that's what Rock said as he spotted a pack of Mint Slices in the bottom of the beach bag, shortly after dispatching a pack of Jelly Babies with the same disdain that VVS Laxman reserves for the Australian bowling attack. By the end of the fifth mint slice, the Japanese harpooners have a new target.

As they say: "Where the bloody hell are you?". Marketing 101 - put a bikini clad babe and a magnificent beach in the same shot, and wait for the tourists to come flocking. Mei does her best to undo the bad publicity of previous pics.

Mei does her best pelican impression.

"we've golden soil and wealth for toil... our home is girt by sea". Scenes like this almost make you want to stand up and don the baggy green. Until a smug faced Ponting strides out for another annoyingly perfect century. Now that man deserves a classic Filler (in-joke for Channel 9 viewers this season).

Appropriately for this South o' the border excursion, it's Mexican tonight.

The hardest thing about taking this picture was ensuring there was still some food remaining on Mei's plate by the time the light from the flash got there...

Day 2 dawns with a bushwalk down to Hyam's Beach on another glorious summer's day.

Hang on, I think you've got the wrong beach here. Take your agro and your big club down to Cronulla, they'll welcome you with open arms down there.

Another postcard from Jervis. White sands and turquoise water. And not a shark in sight... yet.

Spoken prematurely - this species of lethal tiger shark is known to disguise a deadly bite behind an enormous set of Paris Hilton sunnies.

Rock scans the horizons for bikin... dolphins. Yes, that's it, I'm sure the brochure said there were dolphins out here. Gotta keep a close eye on the beaches in case we miss them.

Words aren't necessary. Especially Rock's words.

Mei standing on a rock. She has lots of practice.

Spot The Rock among mere rocks. Confronted with a scene of stunning beauty, Rock is deep in thought contemplating man's insignificance next to... a perfect bean burrito. You know, that perfect contrast between the crispy golden edges of a tortilla and the molten core of dripping cheese and beans. Err yes, quite.

If this isn't a genuine billabong I dunno what is...

...it even comes complete with a waltzing matilda.

Rock does his best to get sand in the lens with some low angle camera work. And no, this wasn't Rock using the cover of the dunes to approach the nudie beach. Shame on you for even thinking it.

Bring out the chopsticks! Mei finds evidence that the White Sands Walk is merely a throwback from a more innocent age, and not the code name for immigration policy in the Howard era. Or local surfie policy down at Maroubra.

Finally a Mei-sized cottage. These old whaler cottages are famous for their 5 foot 1 inch doors...

...and Mei is famous as one of the few humans who doesn't have to duck on entrance.

Another beach, another babe. Now that's worthy of an Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi.

Sydney Weekender

Summer in Sydney, is there any better place to be? The sand is golden, the water temperature is perfect, the bbqs are sizzling, and Ricky Ponting's merry band of baggy greens are acting like wankers out in the middle of the SCG. Simply maarrrvellouuus... the summer that is, not that annoyingly perfect cover drive from Mr Cricket.

With afternoon thunderstorms temporarily shelving the sunblock and togs, Rock managed to barter an hour on the cycleways of Olympic Park for 2 hours trudging around the DFO factory outlet store. The problem with a mall designed in the shape of a synchrotronic particle accelerator is that once that high energy force field traps you ("hey aren't we out by that Dress Smart store, might be a few good bargains, shall we can have a quick look?"), it's around and around and around in a dizzying spin of bargains, unbelievable bargains, never to be repeated bargains, and bargains to end all other bargains. Finding an exit is about as likely as spotting that elusive Higgs Boson.

But back to the velodrome. For a country of 1.5 billion bicycles, some one is looking a little wobbly there? Didn't daddy's Mercedes have a kickstand?

That's more like it. At least by tilting the camera the diagonals will give a sense of speed.


The athlete poses in front of the mighty cauldron of Olympic Stadium. Eight years later and it's time for her to pick up the gold medal, now that everyone else in the race has handed back their silverware and headed for greener pastures slugging homers in MLB presented by Balco.

Are you sure you haven't taken a wrong turn? I'm sure the Champs Elysées has a few more Louis Vuitton outlets...

The clouds clear and Rock's One Beach Per Weekend policy is back in force. As is Mei's One Complaint Per Beach policy. Coogee, Bronte, Clovelly ticked off, so it's time to head further afield. This week's destination - Palm Beach, the northern-most of the Northern Beaches, up north of Sydney.... uhm yes, a few filler words in there Rock?

Mei finds the sand a little hotter than anticipated. That'll teach you for venturing out of the safety of the tent. What next, a deadly strand of kelp in the shallows or a dangerous rip tide in the kidee paddling pool?

Sydney swelters under 31 degrees. The hotter it gets, the smaller the bikinis. Who's complaining?

If you're not on the beach today, you're un-Austraaaalian.

Speaking of hot... In a 100% UV protected tent, one gets the feeling there is just the slightest possibility that the sunnies are for effect only...

And just to prove that even on the beach, work - like the blackberry that is flickering green reassuringly in the beach bag - is never far away, here it is. Three years of blood, sweat, and chicken fried rice, and all I get is a piece of paper. On the plus side, it's not just any piece of paper, it's a whopping A3 monstrosity. Now that's a Wall Street my-diploma-is-bigger-than-yours attitude.

Waikaremoana: The Sea of Rippling Waters

Long before Dubbya made beating up on terrorists de rigeur, the mysterious wilderness of the Ureweras was just that, a remote swathe of almost untouched primordial forests and lakes on the eastern coast of the North Island. Now though, with 'terrorists' infesting the world - from the Gaza strip to Chechnya to Tibet - even the middle of nowhere in little ol' NZ wasn't going to miss out on the action. (For those not up-to-speed with NZ's foray into counterterrorism, the short story is this: on Oct 15th this year, 15 people were arrested in a series of police raids on charges of allegedly running terrorist training camps deep in the Te Urewera wilderness. The raids made headlines around the country and followed a year-long covert police surveillance operation.)

For the record though, we didn't see any AK47s, we didn't see any Al Qaeda camps, but what we did see was some of the most stunningly pristine scenery you'll ever see. But let's not jump the gun (hur hur hur), the story of this four day road trip starts where all good stories do - with a heaping tray of chicken fried rice. Ok, so I've glossed over the 8 hours of sweltering driving with no air con that preceded said tray of fried rice - but no one really wants a description of how the beads of sweat were rolling down Rock's sticky arms and cong... see what I mean?

Home sweet home for the next three days - a rustic wood cabin deep in the bush bordering the national park. OK, fine, so it had hot running water... and lazy boys... and Sky digital, but it was still a cabin. The wilderness never felt so good.

I'll raise you two peanut butter m&m's... The stakes rapidly spiral out of control in a winner-takes-all game of uno.

Day one in the park kicks off bright and early with a stop on the shores of the mighty Lake Waikaremoana for essential bush survival provisions...

...like salt & vinegar chips, ice creams and chocolate. Fortunately the little general store - the only food outpost for 2 hours in any direction - comes well stocked with the essentials.

Let's see if you're still smiling at the end of the loop trail. Today's mission: a 6 hour tramp that takes in the picturesque shores of Lake Waikareiti - a smaller lake 4km from Waikaremoana - and several wetlands.

The first few km are easy enough - wide trails and plenty of snacks.

An hour later, the trees fall away to reveal the stunning expanse of Lake Waikareiti - crystal clear waters stretching out to a string of lush bush-clad islands.

The explores take a moment to block the gorgeous view while Rock waxes lyrically on mankind's triumph over nature.

More eye candy. Followed shortly by more mouth candy in the form of a couple reese peanut butter cups.

The good thing about NZ is this peaceful scene isn't about to be shattered by a 6 foot crocodile or a two story anaconda.

They say the best way to teach swimming is to throw them in the deep end...

I guess now isn't a good time to mention the eels...

The perfect antidote for tired feet.

Is that another peanut butter cup I spy on the shore?

Even Far Cry didn't look this darn good.


Day two starts with a spelunking expedition deep into the bowels of the Onepoto caves which dot the shore of Waikaremoana. But before heading underground, there's amply opportunity to take in the magnificent vista.

This is the before shot, as in before crawling on hands on knees through a muddy cavern.

Don't worry, the wetas are unlikely to be quite as big as you.

Looking south to Panekire Bluff, the jutting guardian of the lake.


Having conquered the caverns, it's back to the general store to restock.

And then back to Waikareiti for the highlight of the trip - a row out to untouched islands that dot the lake.

Dude, the island's that way. Rock quickly finds that like most things in life, rowing a boat isn't quite as easy as it looks.

Now this is cool. After skirting the edges of the largest island looking for a landing point, a tiny wharf and stairway is just visible under the lush bush.

How about you double check that knot chief. Marooned on a picturesque island is only fun while the chocolate holds out.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any cooler. No, I don't mean those dudes in the foreground. I mean this little lake on an island within a lake. That's right, in the middle of the island is another lake, about 3m above the water level of the larger lake.

Heave ho!

Whew, the boat's still here. Alas, the provisions pack appears to be empty. I coulda sworn there was one more re

Rock's theory that the wind was the sole culprit is his display of non-linear rowing is rendered somewhat dubious by this picture.

Row, row, row your boat...

Ahoy there landlubbers!

Seems a shame to spoil such a postcard perfect snap with the wake of the row boat.

Back on dry land... somehow the boat seemed a lot lighter in the water.

Watch my toes dude!

Aye aye sir! Captain on the bridge!


Another big day comes to an end. They did say there was the chance of seeing wild pigs in the vicinity.

And now, back to civilisation and berry ice creams. Is that good or what?

Fast forward another 8 sweaty hours in a blazing hot car on a monotonous road, and it's back to Auckland and Rangitoto's familiar profile.




I am one with the road... because I ride a Harley.

All good things come to an end. Mercifully seeing as the captioning effort is giving the Bangledesh cricket team a run for their money in the limpest capitulation stakes.