Reacclimatising for Blighty...

Day 10, Wednesday 11th March 2009: Queenstown – Lake Gunn, Milford Sound

After a freezing cold night wrapped up in clothes and under a blanket and woollen rug all seven minutes of the hot shower were savoured as I attempted to shake off the cold that seemed to have settled into bones unused to such temperatures during the past eleven months.
While it was no longer raining the sub-freezing temperatures and the still persisting saggy grey mist combined to deter me from doing the hang-gliding that I had been looking forward to and instead decided it was best to cut our losses and head on down the coast in search of warmer climes. Before we left the Holiday Park we bumped into a fellow Explore More campervan rental and exchanged our free DVDs, a staple to passing the cold nights when freedom camping in this country!

Another trip to Patagonia to take advantage of the pots of Earl Grey tea and free wifi delayed our departure but eventually we set off down the highway towards Te Anau. The journey was marked by torrential rain and the persistence of the cold to clamber through every nook and cranny and seep into your bones which we combated with the dual armoury of the van’s heaters turned up full blast and an oversized bag of New World pic’n’mix!

We spent an age hoping the weather might provide us with a break for lunch but with the clouds showing no signs of dissipating and stomachs growling we pulled over in a sodden lay-by in Mosstown where we indulged in some home-made bacon butties and pumpkin soup and then had to wee out of the door because it was too wet to even attempt to maintain some dignity...
When we finally did arrive in Te Anau the rain had abated and there was even a glimmer of some clear sky. We checked into the DOC site for advice about camping and picked up some essential sandfly repellent as the wet fjorldands offer the perfect breeding ground for the little blighters.

The route from Te Anau to Milford Sound is a 100km highway that provides postcard perfect scenery everywhere you look and our settlement was interrupted by numerous photo shoots and assessment of DOC campsites. Without realising we had neared the end of the highway and so stopped at the final DOC site, a beautiful lakeside clearing at the start of the fjordland inlet. Pulling up at about 6pm the tiny campsite was already quite full and we had to perform some interesting manoeuvres to squeeze into a self-made space with the back window looking out over the mirror-like lake. We were however by no means the last to arrive and to our amusement (and horror) more and more latecomers filled up so that we were hemmed in at every angle, quite comedically, by fellow campervanners. With the setting of the sun and the return of the ice-cold temperature there was little opportunity for campfire singing and such jollity as we all hastily locked ourselves in and tried our best to use the heating from our cooking to keep ourselves warm...

Day 11, Thursday 12th March 2009: Lake Gunn – Curio Bay

Exploiting the prime lunchtime tourist the boat cruises at Milford Sound escalate in price from the first early morning trip and so we awoke early and quickly drove the final 25km from where we had camped to the boat terminal in order to take advantage of the cheaper and less busy cruises.

This final leg is one of those winding hairpin roads that crawl around the mountains but in doing so offer a languorous enjoyment of the fjordlands which open up as you pass over the crest of the mountain range. In order to do so we had to drive Angie through a tiny tunnel hewn out of the mountain, much like the passing at Samphire Hoe. In the winter, when it is embossed with snow and ice, it creates an incredible vista and I found myself holding my breath as we pushed on underneath hoping that the lights at the opposite end were working as the last thing we wanted to encounter inside it was one of the gigantic shuttle coaches.

Aside from several leaks pouring through the uncovered earthen roof the tunnel crossing was perfectly safe and we arrived at the terminal to take advantage of our 2-for1 ticket that we had received as part of the Explore More package. Served by an extremely dour and unhelpful Scotsman we were so desperate to escape him that we managed to leave our tickets on the desk as we hastened to the cafe to wait for our cruise departure. The forty-five minute interlude was filled by an informative pamphlet on sandflies which besides the horror warnings that you can be bitten up to a thousand times in one hour informed us that the Maoris tell the story that one of their demi-goddesses unleashed the plague on this particular part of the country in order to keep it safe and untouched from the bludgeoning of human activity. New Zealand tourism authorities perpetually and proudly joke that it this ferocious insect that has ensured the survival of their country’s natural beauty as they prevent tourists tramping about spoiling the natural habitat! The pamphlet also explained that it is only the female sandflies that bite and that the docile males are perfectly harmless...shocking!

Pleading with the dour Scotsman to reinstate our tickets we were allowed to board the Scenic cruiser and took immediate advantage of the free hot beverages. Despite the warning of our fellow Explore More DVD borrower that the tour was a disappointment we enjoyed a brilliant morning on the water sidling in and out of the main fjorldand inlet. This was mainly due to the fact after all the rain and poor visibility of the previous days we were visited by clear skies and sunshine that showed off the mountain ranges in all their gigantic glory and revealed the numerous natural phenomenon and wildlife that reside in its ubiquitous crevices.

Perched permanently on the top deck we wound up next to gigantic waterfalls, some of which are three times the size of the Niagara Falls but are still dwarfed by the sheer rock faces they dribble down, and were treated to colonies of dozing sea lions. My Mr-Goodfellow enthused A-level geography came creaking back as we toured around the enormous U-shaped valleys cut into the rocks and followed the glacial movement over millions of years through the fjorlands to the entrance of the inlet that Captain Cook entered and discovered the country through – he stayed long enough to describe his disgust for the local sandflies which he also has the honour of naming.

I made my most tenuous friendship of this travel yet when posing for photos with my finger puppet (Marley the alpaca) I discovered that two American visitors were doing the same thing with their friend, Mr Monkey. All four of us realised what we were doing at the same time and bonded over joint photo opportunities with Marley, Mr Monkey and Rich’s Geoff the Giraffe while the rest of the boat’s passengers continue in their earnest photographing of the geological wonders being pointed out by the tour leader’s narrative.

When we arrived back at the terminal it was swarming with hundreds of visitors newly arrived on their coach tour packages. Our cruiser with a several hundred person capacity and had only carried about fifty of us was now packed to the decks with tourists hemmed in at the elbows vindicating our decision to get up early and catch the early worm.

Sadly as we departed the fjordlands and headed deeper south the all too familiar driving rain brought on by the prevailing south-westerly winds returned, physically buffeting the van as I struggled to keep it on the road. The winds were so strong that even the powerful eagles were struggling in the sky and one unfortunate flock of small birds were splattered against the windscreen as taking off from the tarmac found themselves unable to beat the down-pressing current and unable to steer the van out of their course became guilty of taking out several of its members...We were kept amused by the hilarity of the local radio which alongside reporting the double bookings of the tennis courts also posted advertisements for the reproductive services of the best breeding sheep in the area!

For the first time in New Zealand we got lost...attempting to leave the grey, dull lattice of Invercargill for the pretty Catlin coastal area the road signs disappeared and became replaced by symbols completely confusing the foreign map-readers! After an incredibly circuitous drive we managed to get back on track and pulled into Curio Bay at dusk. With no possibility of freedom camping we were forced to stake a claim in the extremely primitive Curio Bay Campsite in the still abysmal weather. This, however, was all forgotten when stepping out to explore our surroundings we came face to face with a sea lion! A large colony nestle on the beach and frequently lollop into the campsite for the shelter of the tall grasses. There were signs dotted around the campsite warning about not camping in certain places as the extremely territorial sea lions will not hesitate in attacking tents or humans treading on their habitat! After reading these warnings and continuing to explore the craggy coast we both jumped out of our skins when we saw an unruly male charging straight at us at a pace that belied its ungainly stature. Along with the sheep we bolted clearing its path towards the sea and decided we had enjoyed enough adventure for one day and safely locked ourselves into the van.

Day 12, Friday 13th March 2009: Curio Bay – Dunedin

It was up bright and early to take advantage of the low tide and spy on the local wildlife. A couple of sea lions fighting in the shallows of the surf and an achingly wild and rugged coastline revealed by clearer skies were our reward and after all the grumbling about the rain and lack of signage the previous day we were glad that we had persisted in visiting this truly desolate part of the country that very few backpackers attempt.

With the sun continuing to shine we enjoyed a very lazy day’s drive wiggling along the coastline. Our first stop off was at the Niagara Falls cafe, a tongue-in-cheek named enterprise that served up delicious bumblebee cakes (tightly dough balled macaroons with currants) in a gorgeous little garden eatery that also doubled up as a local gallery. Our second stop was at the eccentrically unrivalled Lost Gypsy Gallery in Papatowai. The artist had driven a bus onto his front lawn and turned it into an experimental workshop transforming watch parts and kitchen utensils into twisted sculptures such as the wind-up Sound of One Hand Clapping toy that you couldn’t resist turning even though you knew no sound would be made. The walls and ceiling were covered in a truly eclectic mix of paraphernalia from upside down circuit boards to wry newspaper articles.
The artist had also taken five years to build a Garden of Thoughts which took the same approach but on a much grander scale. If I had had the money and space I would have bought amongst many other things the male-whale. As a fellow hoarder it was a dream home so cleverly designed and so resourcefully crafted that on my return Angie felt sterile and barren by comparison...

Afterwards we detoured via Nugget Point and went rambling on the coastal path to the desolate lighthouse that was built back in 1898. The view offered fantastic views across the emerald green sea and was littered with raucous packs of barking sea lions.

We arrived in Dunedin in good time and after ten days in rural New Zealand were glad to be back in a city. Parking up in the Leith Valley Holiday Park we decided to treat ourselves to a night out in the student town and ended up residing in The Hog where the bizarrely named Irish band, Catgut and Steel were playing.

Day 13, Saturday 14th March 2009: Dunedin

For the first time in our stay we spent two nights in the same place and this afforded us the luxury of a lie-in! It was nice to indulge in a completely lazy day with no driving and no tourist pressures upon us. A potter to the farmers’ market in the morning to stock up on the week ahead’s food was followed by a languid day wandering around the town centre (and finally discovering K-Mart!) before settling back into Angie for an evening game of The Game of Life and making full use of the communal oven to have an early-Sunday roast!

Day 14, Sunday 15th March 2009: Dunedin – Trotters Gorge (Palmerston)

We arrived in the Otago Peninsula, directly to the east of Dunedin, at lunchtime ready to explore the rugged headline and keen to spot the endangered native yellow eyed penguins that live here. Our first stop was to the infamously titled Sandfly Bay that fortunately bore no resemblance to its namesake. We had to pick our way through the sunbathing sealions splattered across the sandy beach to reach the penguin hide at the far end but went unrewarded as our early afternoon viewing coincided with their prime feeding time out at sea.

On the way back to the car Rich managed to get a bumblebee stuck in the Velcro of his board short flies which resulted in him stripping naked and running away while I tried to prise the poor bee from the trappings of the Velcro. It was like some sort of warped Carry On scene with Rich trying to hide his nakedness from the other walkers on the path while I tried to explain why I was prodding at a pair of shorts with a very long stick!

We headed up to the chasm lookout at the top of the cliffs for lunch and enjoyed a quick walk to the gorge before lunching on a picnic bench at the car park overlooking the headland and only a few hundred metres from where the local paragliders where setting off for their Sunday afternoon flight.

We were on our way to Tairora Head, the furthermost tip of the peninsula, when we pulled up at a mangled t-junction to decipher the fallen signs and an equally battered car pulled up alongside us from the opposite direction. Worried that we had performed some foreigner’s faux pas or screwed up the strange New Zealand driving etiquette we politely wound down the window. The driver of the other car was an elderly gentleman who looked like he had suffered some kind of stroke and took several attempts at speaking before he could communicate with us. Somehow in this odd conversation we had ended up agreeing to be taken to Allan’s Beach to go penguin-spotting with him and as he tore off down a little dirt track in the direction opposite to where we were heading found our British sense of manners forcing us to tear down after him. The road became more and more desolate and both of us began to wonder where we were heading...Eventually we pulled up at the beach and were immediately directed into a parking space by the gentleman clearly impatient with our slow driving and watched him clamber over the stile on his way to the beach. Sadly our penguin hunting was not confined to the safe, sandy shore of the beautiful beach and while Rich remained on the flat compelled by a sense of obligation I followed the gentleman up the fallen rocks into the caves dug into the cliff face.

There were a number of times when the gentleman seemed to be wobbling precariously tiptoed on the point of a rock destined to fall and slide down the cliff face but managed to save himself at the very last second. All my excitement about perhaps seeing one of the penguins gave way to relief that we managed to ascend the rocks in one piece and while he keenly showed me the stoat traps and the nesting boxes and footprints all I could worry about was how we were going to get down...Somehow we did and despite his persistence in wanting to check the other end of the beach we made our polite excuses and managed to escape before any awkward emergency services had to be called.

I have to say I am looking forward to the conversations when I return about what adrenaline-filled activities I embarked upon during my travels only to say that I eschewed the sky-diving and bungy-jumping for card games in retirement villages and pensioner rock-climbing! It’s as if I have some in-built magnet carried with me from all my years in Hythe that sees me getting myself into these situations!

After successfully extricating myself from that situation we eventually found Tairora Head and fearful of any further advances confined our viewings of the albatrosses to a very short walk before heading back towards Dunedin and beginning the final leg North back to Christchurch.

A disgustingly cheap ice-cream at the local gelato in Palmerston restored my nerves before we located the nearest DOC site at the Trotters Gorge Reserve. 18km off the highway it was truly remote; a small, sheltered campsite situated in the ox-bow bend of a small stream. To enter the reserve we had to pass by an overgrown field pasted with posters about the owner’s Pet Wild Pig urging us not to shoot him should we see him wandering about! Thinking this was perhaps some small town South Island peculiarity on arrival at the Reserve we were met with our first Guns Permitted sign which led us to a very careful inspection of each of our grey-haired neighbours for the night!

Day 15, 16th March 2009: Trotters Gorge – Akaroa

Unbeknownst to us we had chosen a DOC site shrouded by the geological phenomena of the Morecki Boulders. Keen to embrace a rare historic moment we raced to the beach to witness the rocks only to discover a few nicely spherical pebbles lumped in one corner. Our fellow tourists who had also trekked down the shore to view this important sight were doing their best to make the most of the situation with some comic poses but with the edge of the southerly still snapping at our flip-flopped feet we gave up any pretence and headed straight back to the car and continued our way up the coastline.

Sadly the south-east of New Zealand, perhaps suffering from comparison, really doesn’t hold much of interest. The gentle rolling hills are like English countryside and the coast is lacking in beaches and there is a general absence of atmosphere between the spaced out, enclosed tiny communities. We stopped first at Oamaru because it is the self-proclaimed Penguin Capital of the country but asides from this Happy Feet pandemic is a drab, grey town. Monopolising the tourism industry on penguin tours and charging exorbitant fees we decided against embarking on any of them and with little else to hold us carried on up the coast. Our second stop was at the more bustling conurbation, Timeru, where we lunched at Caroline Bay, a forlorn beachside park trying its best to ignore the huge industrial port spoiling the vista. It didn’t stop one elderly couple, the gent in a thong and his wife a two-piece bikini, laying down their towels on the ugly beach and soaking up the few rays of sun that peered over the tops of the pollutant emitting funnels which at least provided us with a hilarious photograph!

Having planned to spend a day pottering about this part of the country we gave up and bumped up the itinerary making it to Akaroa by the evening. Another small peninsula for weekenders from Christchurch we made it as far as Little River where we discovered a small clearing by a lake to camp for the evening. The lake was covered with a flock of black swans that silhouetted brilliantly against the sinking sun while we adopted the chickens and ducks that popped over to visit their new neighbours and enjoyed a very peaceful evening meal by the lake without any sandflies!

Day 16, Tuesday 17th March 2009: Akaroa

Only 50km from our final destination of Christchurch we were able to indulge in a very lazy day beginning with a long lie-in in our undisturbed camping spot. We then wound our way through the crinkled volcanic crater countryside of the peninsula towards the main town of Akaroa set on the lip of the biggest inlet. Akaroa is a charming French-influenced town set on the water with a brilliant range of cafes and patisseries that centre around its primary tourist attraction of swimming with the tiny Hector dolphins.

A walk around the town and part of the inlet prepared us for lunch and then as the sun came out we headed to Le Bons Bay for a quick swim. The beach was completely deserted and we had it to ourselves which was fortunate as we took advantage of the free showering opportunity before heading back to Akaroa for a late afternoon high tea in Jove.

Confined by the selection of dinner ingredients from the tiny supermarket we decided to head back to our free camping spot and were joined once again by our feathered neighbours.

Days 17-18, Wednesday 18th – Thursday 19th March 2009: Akaroa – Christchurch

A little detour via Lyttleton en route to Christchurch turned out to be more little than detour as the attractive village written in the guidebook turned out to be a stinking port town. The briefest of stops by the waterfront was all that was permitted and so we found ourselves arriving in Christchurch much sooner than anticipated. It meant we were able to check in quickly to the conveniently situated Stonehurst Park and enjoy a lazy couple of days soaking up the low-key city life.

I enjoyed having access to a bit of culture wandering around the Cathedral and the beautiful Botanic Gardens whilst the Christchurch Art Gallery was a brilliant find and the punting on the river of the Oxford Terrace made me nostalgic for summer days as a student! The Cathedral Square was only a short stroll from Stonehurst so not only did I get to see the infamous wizard (man dressed up as a wizard preaching to whoever will listen and has been doing so for the past 40 years!) but also some of the great street entertainers who all seemed to be Scottish....

We finally parted with Angie – only after having to fill out a mile of forms about the tiny accident – and celebrated moving from a van into a proper room by dining out at the cosy Turkish restaurant Topkapi where I sampled my first ever shish kebab and apple tea!