Goanna Headland

The sun had beaten us out of bed in small town Australia. But only just. With temperatures approaching 40 degrees celsius in January, our bushwalk had to begin early or run the risk of quite literally fizziling out. Aboriginal legend has it that once a might snake was enraged at having her eggs stolen by a monitor lizard goanna. She gave chase until exhaustion ended the persute, but not before delivering a fatal bite. The spot where the goanna lay down to die juts out into the pacific ocean. It became known as Goanna Headland.

It is not on the tourist trail, this small coastal town in northere New South Wales. It bearly registers a name chack in the guide book. Perhaps it should but along Australias vast coastline there are many such places if you look hard enough. The track up to Goanna Headland was rough, slightly ovcergrown betraying it's lack of use, perhaps owing to local fear of very real decendants of the mythical snake. From the headland the view looks out across vast stretches of sand both north and south. Due east is the ocean; west nature reserve. All within fifeteen minutes of Evans Head town. A river bisects Evans Head and is home to a small fishing fleet and an osprey's nest. To the north, the sands attract families, joggers and play host to casual games of beach cricket. To the south, the beaches are harder to reach and more distant from the town and here is where the dedicated surfers come. It is wild, the stretch. The ocean here is big and alive with dangerous currents. It is also sharky. There have been few attacks but the question always remains: what if?

There is only one surfer in the water as we climb down to the shore. But he is not the only one riding the swell. A small pod of dolphins demonstrate to him their purity of motion in passing th\rough the waves. The surfer, clearly stoked, pauses to marvel at them. I am excited. I strip to my underwear and plunge into the water, confident of making it to where both dolphins and surfers are at play. I survive two pounding shorebreaks before fleeing from the third, my spirit momentarily broken. I content myself just to watch from the beach.It is now 8am. A sea eagle idles by over my head and, out past the dolphins three pelicans glide low.

The return walk is through scrubland, a designated nature reserve. The head and chest of a kangaroo appear. They bob, unseen legs bounding it away. We walk back to our car. The Pacific Highway bypasses this town. I think they like that in this small rural dwelling with few shops and only one pub. The locals know it's worth. Many come here for their holidays over Christmas and the population temporarily surges. They come from neighbouring Coraki, Casino and Lismore shunning nearby Byron Bay in search of a more peaceful retreat. Quiet, sleepy, off the map and yet thoroughly remarkable.

An Audience with the Queen

To be granted an audience with royalty is a privilege beyond many of us. Attempting to gain one with a rare and elusive royal bengal tiger can test the patience of the most devout of courtiers.

The seat of this particular royal family is at Ranthambhore National Park in the Indian state of Rajasthan. It is relatively easy to visit being only a short journey from the tourist trail favourites of Delhi, Agra and Jaipur.The park is home to thirty five tigers and is set within 1300 sqkm of dry, deciduous forest with trees that are liberally spaced allowing for good visibility. Much of the park's action takes place around it's lakes, much needed oases for all the park's life that includes tiger favourites such as sambar and spotted deer. In the water lurk crocodiles; in the air over three hundred species of birds and the park is also home to the seldom seen leopard.

To appreciate the scale and beauty of Ranthambhore, a trip to the fort is a must. Built in 944 A.D, it nestles into the cliff faces naturally and provides a wonderful panoramic view across the lakes and forests. It also allows you to keep abreast of the action within the park. With the help of binoculars it is possible to watch the jeep and open-top minibuses that shuttle around the park for three hour safaris twice each day.

For a whisker, her alert yellow eyes locked into mine and spoke: how can you exploit my image to sell petrol, cereal and balm; use it to brand companies and name sporting teams. And yet, all you will be left with is this image should you continue to hunt me. Even here at Ranthambhore, one of the Indian Government's Project Tiger success stories, tigers cannot be complacent. They have been poached. Their body parts command huge figures on the black market and are used in supersticious Chinese medicines, erroneously claimed to be cures for a wealth of ailments.We were lucky.

Our audience lasted for 30 minutes. Many visitors receive no such favour. As was fitting, we took our leave of the tigeress, making way for the entrance of another vehicle, visibly excited at their audience with the queen.

Borneo

Slipping, sliding, occasionally sinking.

We had wanted to get off the beaten track and after 3 hours along a track deep in mud we were. This was Malaysian Borneo. Sabah to be exact, the northern region of the world's third largest island divided between Malaysia, Indonesia and the tiny sultanate of Brunei. We had arrived at an eco-lodge adjacent to the huge Kalimantan River.

Barely 15 minutes after collecting our stomachs we were aboard a narrow boat looking for wildlife. Free from the dense covering of the canopies, viewing from a boat allows far greater spotting opportunities. Long tailed macaques were the most numerous animal; a small freshwater crocodile sunned itself on the bank and, crashing through branches, a party of Borneo's endemic proboscis monkeys, distinctive with their huge, bulbous nose. And, not far from them, the forest's jewel: the "man of the forest," English for orang utan.

This female was hanging from the branches of a giant tree gently hanging over the water. Detecting our presence she slowly climbed down behind thick vines to peer out at us from behind the foliage. We were extremely lucky.When not being poached, these awesome apes, that share 96.4% of their DNA with humans, are suffering from habitat loss. This is a combination of logging of primary forest and the replacement of this with palm oil plantations. Palm Oil is big business and is used worldwide for cooking and cosmetic products.

We later visited the Sepilok rehabilitation sanctuary where orphaned orang utans (a result of poaching) are taken and released into a protected area and helped back to health before some individuals are released back into other forests in an effort to boost wild population numbers. Prior to entering the sanctuary, visitors are shown a 30 minute recording on the centre and its work, focusing on the threats to the apes. Two feeding times daily, virtually guarantee every visitor a chance to see a semi-wild orang utan and they acrobatically arrive on ropes that bisect the forest to a feeding platform where bunches of bananas await them. Only a handful of metres away, this provides excellent viewing and photographic opportunities.

Back on the river, other attractions also catch the eye. The river cruises offer the chance to see metre long monitor lizards, hornbills, wild boar and Asian elephants that roam the riverside in herds posing a serious danger to local villages. Following a regular route, one herd of 20 were awaited with a combination of eagerness and fear by the owners of our lodge. Every encounter is memorable but concern at the potential destruction and lengthy clean up cost is serious. The lodge has been damaged by elephants in the past. Fortunately the only thing being trampled and subsequently eaten in our presence was the riverside vegetation and our boats drifted up to the riverbank where we were able to enjoy lengthy views until the fading light sent us back to the lodge, marking the end of our trip.