Christmas 2007 for me will carry memories of sheep, horses, small kids, a one eyed ageing sheepdog called Glen, a lost cow and the company of a warm and hospitable family living the Kiwi farm life in the green valleys of Glen Murray, about an hour south of Auckland. I arrived at the farm on Christmas Eve greeted by head of the family Chris Venamore, dressed in working farm clothes with Glen the sheepdog at his heels. Before long I was unpacked and settled into the guest cottage (located in a corner of a paddock with 5 grazing horses) and found myself sat next to Glen on the quad bike as Chris took me on a tour of the farm to meet the sheep, cows and horses, but more specifically to try and locate a lost cow! A neighbour’s farm was playing host to some stray cattle non of which seem to belong to Chris, but mysteriously one of his heiffers was missing. In the few days I was at the farm, the cow never appeared. Christmas Eve dinner was at the home of Val and Shelly Venamore – Chris’s brother in their home nearby. As we left around 10pm, the full moon was hanging in a perfect sky surrounded by bright twinkling stars! Christmas morning for me was spent in the company of ‘Rupert’ – a bay gelding who took me on a ride through the woods next to the farm. I think he was glad to be out and was quite a handful! After dressing in the smartest clothes I could muster from my backpacking wardrobe, I joined the family in the car for a short trip to ‘Totra Nui’ (probably spelt it wrong!) the newly finished second residence which was the perfect setting for Christmas Day. Family members from Auckland arrived with their children to join those already there and I was treated to a hearty meal and some good conversation with the Venamore clan whilst the kiddies ran about full of beans from opening presents. It was a typical Christmas really! On Boxing Day Elizabeth joined me on horseback to ride around the bush covered valley near to the farm and help Chris to bring in some sheep ready for crutching and shearing, Glen doing his bit with enthusiasm from the back of the quad. It was a great ride in fabulous scenery and good company. After warm scones on the verandah of the homestead (thanks to the Venamore daughters!) I offered to help with some yard chores and spent a satisfying afternoon sweeping and tidying the yard and tackroom. By 9pm I was struggling to stay awake on the sofa watching ‘calendar girls’ with the family so made my excuses and took myself off to bed via the paddock which was now full of sheep! My last morning was spent exploring the woolshed and meeting the sheep – 2 of which were about to be dispatched to fil the freezer. Chris gave me a demonstration of shearing – on a dead sheepskin! and despite wanting to stay longer the hire car was due back at Auckland so with a sigh I hit the road and left the farm behind me bound for the city life.
Archive for the 'New Zealand' Category
Dec 22nd Leaving Rotorua I drove for about an hour leaving the pungent sulphurous aroma behind in return for the perfume of meadows yellow with buttercups and sweetly smelling of hay – cattle grazing alongside sheep and horses. My stopoff destination before Raglan was Matamata - a large town where the only things that matter are a) farming b) thoroghbred horses & racing and c) Hobbits. I saw plenty of evidence for the first 2 points but not so much Hobbity stuff, until…… I boarded a bus along with 20 others bound for a sheep farm in the hills around Matamata. Since 2002 this tour has operated providing cash for the farmer who allowed the movie to be filmed on his land. I calculated $1000 on the bus that day, so I’m guessing there’s money in them there hills…. or should I say: there’s money in them there Hobbit holes?The landscape is really Hobbity – obviously! the site itself has little left apart from about 18 holes which have boarded white fascias and tufted turfy clumps on each roof – one even has a chimney. The area around the holes was used for various scenes in the first LOTR movie which I can’t remember that well (must see it when I get home) – something about a party before Bilbo Baggins leaves with fireworks and dancing. Luckily there were no LOTR nutters on the bus but one guy who lived the whole experience with his camcorder glued to his face, slowly sweeping his lens across the landscape and up close to each hole, walking slowly and in circles a bit like Buzz Lightyear! I kept my distance, but I’m sure that when he watches his footage I will be in there somewhere making silly faces and obscene gestures (only kidding!). As a visitor to the site I was able to use my imagination to .. well imagine… the movie being made. I got to stand inside Bag End and in front of it, and meet some sheep. The sheep were nice. I told them they should sue the farmer for a share of some of the profits since they were made homeless for 4 months during filming and if that wasn’t bad enough, they were considered not ‘Hobbity’ enough sheep for the film, so other sheep were brought in for the filming. If I were one the ousted sheep I would feel pretty peeved, not to mention distressed that my sheepness wasn’t sheepy enough for Peter Jackson. Anyway, they didn;t seem too bothered by the advice I gave them and chewed on the grass staring vacantly into the distance – or maybe they were calculating the total value of a legal case based on unfair discrimination, backpay, relocation compensation and mental cruelty……… ?Anyway, I did enjoy the trip, and recommend it. When I asked if anyone had ever done any wierd stuff on the site, the guide told me that once a group turned up dressed as Hobbits with a tape machine and spent the whole time just dancing on the meadow below the holes whilst another German guy over 6ft tall arrived dressed as Bilbo Baggins and refused to leave staging a sit-in at Bag End – he had to be forcibly removed! The people on my bus that day were more like sheep than the sheep in the meadow, and were quite happy to be herded on and off the bus as instructed, all without the need for a trained working dog – amazing!It was after a brief coffee stop back in Matamata that I drove onward into Waikato and headed for the coast of Raglan for a 2 day stay before Christmas.
My trip to White Island volcano was cancelled due to high wind so I left Whakatane bound for Rotorua. Last night there was another earth tremor in Whakatane whcih shook my hotel room and was quite scary I don’t mind telling you! Turns out that Gisborne on the East coast suffered a large earthquake 6.8 on the richter scale and that’s what we felt in Whakatane. Arriving into Rotorua I stopped at Hells’ Gate – a geothermal area of hot bubbling pools of sulphur and boiling mud. For a small fee you can dip yourself into the sulphur and spread noxious mud all over yourself before taking a very cold shower and floating in more sulphurous water which feels like it’s boiling you alive! I paid my money and did all of those things – and by the end of my 40 minutes in Hell I felt a bit light headed – but at least my skin feels soft!Rotorua is how I remembered it from early November, it is a little warmer this time though. I have a free day here to wander about, I may go to the Polynesian Spa, but maybe not – will let you know!Update – I didn’t go to the spa! When I got to the YHA I had some basked beans for tea then sat on a sofa and soon was talking to an older lady from Edinburgh who had plenty of stories to tell about her life and travels – I couldn’t get away! I had some help from a chap I had seen in Australia at one of the hostels so recognising him I got talking to him too and before long the three of us were sharing stories and photos. I noticed the next morning that the scottish lady had latched onto another poor bloke and was telling him stories – she is quite sweet though!It’s probably a good thing I didn’t go to the spa, my skin still stinks of sulphur from the Hells Gate experience and it’s turned my silver jewellry black – bummer!Off to find some Hobbits today at Matamata …..
Dec 17th I left the South Island arriving at Auckland in bright sunshine to collect a Toyota Sprint from Omega and head north east in time for supper at Coromandel YHA. The weather then turned sour. There followed 2 days of heavy rain and windy gales which turned the beautiful prospect of lying on Coromandel’s peninsula beaches into driving past them with the windscreen wipers in overdrive…. shame. A ful day of driving along the coastline from small Coromandel town to large Tuaranga city left me uninspired to stop in the crappy weather so I turned off the engine at a campsite in Papamoa (beach suburb of Tauranga) and paid for a small cabin to sleep in and stay dry. At least I had a telly. Next day I drove a short distance to Whakatane past Te Puke – famous for being the home of Kiwi fruit and to prove it, they have a giant Kiwi slice in glorious plastic technicolour complete with pips….. awful – I kept driving. Arriving in Whakatane (Fackatanny) I liked the town, it’s a bit like any typical British seaside town, on a river estuary with the ocean behind a sandbar which also hides the view of Whale Island and the more worrysome White Island some 50kms out to sea and a very active volcano. I checked into a motel, and booked onto a White Island tour in a couple of days. My first afternoon in Whakatane was spent mooching the town centre in the rain, then I gave up and retired to my room for sme good old fashioned laziness. The only exciting thing to happen was an earth tremor at 10.33pm (I noted the time) which really gave me the frights! It was like the room was possessed of a devil which was shaking my bed – really scary. I mentioned this to a local the next day and she shrugged it off “happens all the time” she said. Just to be sure, I’ve packed my emergency bag (clean knickers and lipstick) and put some shoes by the door in case I need to make a run for it in the middle of the night!Second day in Whakatane was spent walking in sunshine and humidity along the coastpath to Ohope Beach – some 2 hours of up and down hill walking with stunning views of the sea, coastline and volcano – steaming in the distance. I caught the bus back for some afternoon tea and chilling out – I think I’ve earnt it after some exercise! Volcano tomorrow……. now where did I put my emergency bag?
The Drive from Invercargill to Queenstown is lovely. It passes through wide glacial river valleys and basins of farming land, with pretty hills and mountains in the distance. To be savoured and not to be rushed….. I stopped at a town called ‘Winton’ for no other reason than it looked pretty, had amazing planted gardens and borders all along the main street and public gardens – lupins, foxglove, daisies, roses etc, provided (according to a plaque) by the Winton agrocultural society – well, all I can say is well done to them. The town itself would look fine in a wild west movie – a saloon, hotel, court building, shops with wide walkways and small church. Pretty. Further along the Highway the gorse and lupins are in full swing showing off yellow, blue, purples, creams in the roadside and meadows. Past the turn off to Te Anau I was on a road I had travelled before with the tour group. However, last time I didn’t have the freedom to stop when I wanted so in Garston I stopped. This claims to be the most inland village in New Zealand and has a sign to prove it. It also has a cute wooden church on a small hillside surrounded by pine trees giving a strong disinfectant perfume to the place, and a loo – but that’s about it. Further along, Kingston has a fully operating steam train and then the start of Lake Wakapitu and in the distance, Queenstown. This scenic drive wiggles along the shoreline of the lake like Lake Como in Italy but without all the villages along the way – there are no settlements until you reach Frankton merging into Queenstown. The Remarkables are the mountain range which dominate the views – famous from Lord of the Rings which was filmed on Deer Park Heights. I had a booking at the YHA Lakefront so I headed there. However on arrival I got a bad vibe about it and made cancelled the booking. Sometimes the hostels just don’t work for me – and lucky for me I have the funds to choose something a bit better. So in the car I drove about a bit looking for a motel or cheap hotel. I found a fab place called the Whistler Apartments with views of the Gondola and Tooth Mountain. It is by far the best place I have stayed and not expensive. It has a King size bed in it’s own large room, a kitchen with oven, microwave, TV,DVD, Stereo, Balcony, comfy sofa, armchair, bathroom and washing machine! All for the bargain price of $100 per night (about 40 quid). Added to that, the staff are great and I got 2 DVD’s to watch for free (Whale Rider and War of the Worlds). As it was only 3pm, I dropped my bags and headed in the car to ARROWTOWN. A small settlement north which was founded on Gold in the 19th century and home to a chinese population who worked the gold mines but were treated badly by New Zealand. I’ve used a lot of adjectives to describe places I like in New Zealand, but Arrowtown is just lovely. It is the nicest town I have been to. I admit it is all done for the tourists, but I don’t care. I went to the chinese village to see the remains of the stone houses they lived in – a shop run by a chinese chap (I’ve seen bigger kennels) but not much is left. The river runs nearby and there is still gold to be found here. This was a gorgeous day. The warm sun, lupins, cotton trees, birdsong and bees made me feel like I was in a Disney movie! I went in search of gold, paddled in the freezing water of the stream and picked at rocks and stones but none of them gold…….. bugger! Bored and hungry (not eaten since Invercargill) I walked to the main street and fell in love with it immediately. It is charming. It’s tiny, but every shop is immaculate and original colonial stone, timber and signage. It’s like a living movie set. The shops sell tourist stuff, but the museum inside the millhouse was excellent- Settlement stories, gold mining and below street level, a bakery, wheelwright, schoolhouse, printers and other life like reconstructions of pioneer life. I loved it. There is a gaol, cottages which are still occupied a village post office and green. I spent an hour wandering and forgot I was hungry. Before leaving though, I had a bagle and fruit smoothy in a coffee shop. Perhaps living here would feel artificial though. It would be nice to spend more time in that river though! A chap found a nugget here a while ago whcih was worth 30 thousand dollars.Back in Queenstown I bought some groceries and relaxed in my ‘apartment’ as the sun went down, the party people came out to play and parachuting thrill seekers floated down from the top of the gondola station……After Whale Rider and War of the Worlds I hit the pillow at 11pm with faint sounds of dance music throbbing up from the town centre – Saturday night in Queenstown!
The trouble with traveling alone is that there is nobody to tell you when you’re about to make a bad decision and stop you from doing it. So it was that I left Dunedin on a shitty wet Friday and drove to Invercargill via the ‘Catlins’ – an area of forestation over low lying hills near to the coastline. Well, it was boring. I can’t put it any other way. It looked in parts like Devon, then Cumbria, then the Severn Estuary and finally at Invercargill it lokoed like East Anglia on a bad day. I only stopped once on the 4 hour journey to walk to an unimpressive waterfall inside the Catlins rainforest and it was wet, water falling over mossy rocks amongst tree ferns and other rain loving plants. In hindsight I should have headed straight to Invercargill down the Highway. Anyway, at Invercargill I put the city on hold to explore BLUFF – the most southerly point in New Zealand (OK I am not including Stewart Island which has people on it, but by all accounts is less interesting that the Catlins). In the drizzle, approaching Bluff along a wetland area of mud and marshes, the only significant landmarks were a agrinutrient plant the size of The Pentagon, and a meat processing factory. That about sums up this area. Bluff tried to be cheerful as I slowed from the Highway along the main street with jovial signs about Oysters and a rainbow coloured sign “where the Highway begins” whatever that means. Along main street are remants of the shipping days, warehouses in decline, rusting equipment, dead ships stuck in the mud under delapidated jetties. It’s all a bit depressing really and the shops and houses look like a small version of Blackpool but without the twinkly lights and pleasure beach. I headed up a very steep hill to the lookout point, but I can’t imagine why I did (refer to the first sentence above) to see nothing but fog. The Starlet was knackered and I could smell burning from the engine, so I left her to recover (I swear I could see the car panting) A spiral visitor walkway leads to the top where it tells you about the landmarks around you but all I saw was a communication mast buzzing nearby and some wet looking vegetation. Feeling stuffy from the long trip I talk a walk down a footpath to a ‘lookout’ hoping to catch a glimpse of the southern ocean. Getting rained on and dripped on from the huge ferns and bent over trees down a wooden staircase and on and on for about half an hour – and no lookout. I arrived at a wooden seat with no sign of an end to the path and gave up. It was wet, I was cold, the view was crap and I had one hell of a hill and hundreds of steps to walk back up, so I turned round and trudged back to the car. Determined to find the ‘famous signpost’ at the end of New Zealand I drove down the hill to Stirling Point passing seafront homes which would look at home in Torquay complete with china dogs on the windowsill and net curtains. Past a small lighthouse poking out onto very rough looking sea the road ended with a small carpark which was full of buses and cars and the compulsory tea shop/gift shop. I couldn’t see a sign – just some construction work and cordon, so I assumed it was being repaired or replaced. Bugger. By now both me and the car were tired, wet, overheated from too much exertion and hungry and with no bed for the night I thought I should abandon my search for the signpost and leave Bluff to find a hostel or motel in Invercargill. Halof an hour later I was in the surprisingly interesting and wide streets of Invercargill. Without a map I drove around using my ‘Jedi’ senses to find something interesting or helpful – this is the best way to explore and quite stress free . If you think about it – how can you be lost in a city if you have no planned destination? You should try it. Passing monuments to the war dead, grand hotels, a water tower and some very smart public gardens with a golf course and an Emu I found the Southland Museum which also houses the information centre – Bingo! Parking up, I noticed too a large advertising board for a Burt Monroe exhibition – Brilliant! If you don;t know who he is – rent a movie called ‘The World’s Fastest Indian’. After browsing the hotels, motels and hostels (there is no YHA in Invercargill) I picked on a funky modern looking apartment block called ‘Living Space’ which with the help of the information staff rented me a room for $80 (about 35 quid). Now that I had somewhere to sleep I set about enjoying the city in the rain. The Museum was OK – the usual Maori artefacts and geology stuff with some awful modern art, but the best thing was an area containing several Tuatara’s – the oldest known lizards on the planet and native to New Zealand. ‘Henry’ was about 8inches long and looked liked godzilla – he was born at the end of the 19th century. Blimey. At 540mm long and 1.2 kilos he is the heaviest Tuatara in the world but also the grumpiest so he lives alone in his pen. I suppose if Iw as over 100 years old and fat, I would be grumpy too! And grumpy I became very soon after as I learned that the Burt Monroe exhibit had closed 2 weeks ago – all the stuff removed – except his duck egg blue car which was locked behind a door. Shit…. I really wanted to see it all. Oh well. Back to the car I found my hotel and checked in then wandered the streets in the rain but there wasn’t really much to see or do. Grabbing some food I headed back to relax, dry off, warm up and watch TV. The next morning I felt like I was in another city. With the sun shining Invercargill looks totally different and better. The buildings looked colourful and interesting and being Saturday it was quieter on the streets. I decided to head back to Bluff and try once more to find the sign and see the Ocean. The drive there was nicer, but still a bit bleak. In the bright early morning sunshine the peninsula looked fresher and the dereliction seemed nostalgic not depressing. Back on the top of the Lookout I saw all the things I was told to look at by the signs in the spiral walkway thingy and it did look cool. I felt like I was at the end of the world. Which I suppose I was. Further south than the bottom of Africa and South America and closer to Antarctica than anywhere else. Back at Stirling Point it was too early for the coaches and I found the ’sign’ immediately (it was hidden behind a bus yesterday) so happied myself taking cheesy photos next to the arrow showing London to be 18,958km away…… then I walked along the pebbly beach near the lighthouse and watched fishing boats going out to sea. The Southern Ocean is harsh – out there the waves reach 30m high and the winds alone can break boats. Feeling satisfied I got back into the car and decided to call it a day on exploring the bottom end and drove north towards Queenstown to spend my last 2 days in the South Island.
Here I am in the Otago region in the city of Dunedin. I drove down here from Oamaru in drizzle and grey skies so didn’t get to see the countryside. I had a dreadful night of no sleep in the top bunk at Oamaru’s ‘Red Kettle’ YHA hostel – the woman below me snored all night – and had the cheek to be perky at 7am when she noisily packed her bag and apologised for waking me up (I did point out somewhat sourly that I was in fact already awake and had been that way for several hours). I got out of there asap and hit the road. By 9am I was about 40kms south at the Maeraki Boulders. These are geological oddities on a lovely sweeping beach below a coastline which looks exactly like Devon. I have to keep pinching myself – across the miles of ocean is Chile! I am the other side of the world but it looks like home….. very wierd. I had a stroll on the beach almost alone (just a few other hardly souls like me) and took some cheesy photos of said boulders – which look like maltesers. The were formed millions of years ago and became embedded in the mud and rock before erosion exposed them to the seashore. With nothing but a banana to give me strength and flip flops to keep my feet warm I treated myself to a coffee in the visitor centre before leaving just in time for the tour buses to start dribbling from the Highway. Next stop was a bleak, windy bluff called…. prepare to snigger…….. “Shag Point”. Honestly! The Kiwis are so innocent they call Cormorants ‘Shags’. I think if this headland was in the UK it would be a prime location for some other kind of activity involving ‘birds’. Anyway, I drove the wiggly gravel track to the very, very end and was the sole person there – until a motorhome arrived. I put on waterproofs and headed down a muddy track in the pelting rain to see something interesting. The signs promise New Zealand Fur Seals, Yellow eye Penguins, dolphins and of course Shags. I did see Shags and Seals but after 5 minutes in the sideways rain and force 10 gale I gave up and went back to the car soaked through. There was nothing to encourage me to stop again before Dunedin so an hour later I arrived into the frankly massive and unexpected sprawl of the ‘Scottish’ city named after Edinburgh. With such scottish weather it definitely felt like I was north of the border back home and driving into the busy streets I realised I had no idea where the hostel was and how to get there. I stopped for petrol and asked directions – as usual they went on one ear and onto the petrol polluted tarmac, so I headed for the city centre and found the I-site information place in the Octagon just yards from the statue of Robbie Burns. I parked (imagine being able to park outside the place you want to go into any English city – no chance!) and got directions and within minutes I was at the YHA on Stafford Street. Checking in I was told the bed might not be made (I was paying for a private room to ensure sleep this time) and I said I didn’d mind if the sheets weren’t on. What I didn’t realise was that the girl meant that the bed wasn’t made. As I walked to my room I found the Manager on his knees with a tool kit assembling 3 bunk beds, a pile of mattresses stacked against the wall. I said I would come back later………..Dunedin on first site is an attractive city of imposing buildings in grey stone. I walked back to the Octagon and Rabbie Burns where I paid $20 for a ‘window licker*’ bus tour (well it was raining and I didn’t feel like walking!) (*For ‘window licker’ see previous blog from the Kimberly in Australia) and had an hour to kill. I wandered along George Street – the main shopping area and was uninspired to go inside or buy anything. Feeling peckish I found a nice place called ‘Lemon Tree’ and ate a salad, tomato juice and coffee which killed enough time to get the bus. As it turned out I was alone on the bus with ‘Coral’ a former nurse now driving buses and a sheep/deer/beef farmer on the side. She told me her husband was killed in a farm accident and her son runs the farm now. It’s amazing how much information you get from complete strangers! We toured the highlights of the city from the dry seats of the bus – stopping so I could take photos. I can now proudly say I have been to the steepest road in the world. The train Station is the most photographed building in New Zealand so I added to the stats by taking some shots myself. At the end of the tour I went back to the Cadbury’s Factory but too late for a tour, so instead I walked back to the hostel, jumped in the car and drove to the Otago Peninsular to escape the city. I actually wanted to get out. All the buildings, traffic, people, Christmas hype and dereliction of the poorer areas (where the hostel is) was pretty depressing to me so some fresh air was called for. An hour later at 6pm I was looking out across the Pacific to Chile, whilst Shags, seagulls and seals did their thing in the sea and on the cliffs. I refused to pay for a ‘tour’ of the Albatross breeding area and drove back to the city to chill out. My room is not a place for chilling out however. The beds now complete I was able to examine my surroundings. Pink walls, shocking pink windowframes, ageing and tired curtains, and the only piece of furniture to go with the beds is a school desk, battered and knackered, the type where the lid lifts up. I’m not impressed, glad it’s only one night. I have no accommodation planned tomorrow and will see something when I get to Invercargill. I’m keen to leave Dunedin. It strikes me as a city for old people to live in. But maybe I’m being unfair, or maybe all these wide open spaces have turned me off cities? I am looking forward to getting amongst the forests of the Catlins tomorrow.
A 5 hour drive south brought me to the coastal town of Oamaru. The drive itself was pretty dull on a road with quite a lot of traffic and a detour following a bad accident in Timaru (incidentally the birthplace of Phar Lap). Oamaru is surprisingly nice to look at and very reminiscent of Leamington Spa but much, much smaller. The main street is wide with an avenue of trees and parking for cars, the buildings are of lcoal white stone and architecture is Edwardian with pillars and romanesque frontages. I parked at the i centre for information about the penguins then walked down the shopping street and on closer inspection Oamaru seems to be a bit.. well .. how can I put it? run down? The shops cater for all manner of household issues, carpets, curtains, electrics, plumbing and some dubious fashions.. but that’s about it. At one time it must have beena thriving town as there are lots of derelict warehouses and trading posts – it reminded me of Gloucester docks before it was renovated. It even has a Llloyds bank! Bored with the town (apart from the fab statue of a penguin) I checked into the Red Kettle hostel (Wendy and her husband are great hosts) and then drove to Bush Beach to check out the yellow eyed penguins – only found around the south east of NZL and not in captivity anywhere. There is a viewing platform high above the beach but you can’t see much, although you can hear them. For $16 I took the tour with a DOC volunteer to get up close and smelly with a nest containing a Mrs Penguin and her 2 babbies – all brown and fluffy! It was realy cute and I got some fab photos. But blimey it stank! All along the coastline of the beach is native bush where they build nests high up from the beach and we saw a few landing on the sand washed up like fat ducks and waddle up to the steep cliff and disappear from view to find their nests and feed the babies. The mother we watched was about 30 m above sea level – quite a climb when your feet are stuck together! I suggest you try it! All round us were other families making noise and smell but you can’t see them, so well hidden in the bush. I dashed back to hostel for some story fry dinner then out again to see another penguin colony at the old harbour – over 200 blue penguins come ashore at dusk every night in the breeding season to feed their young having been out feeding and fetching food all day. They land in a large group of around 70 called a ‘raft’ for obvious reasons. Once on shore they battle with the surf to stand upright them leg it up the sand to the short ramp of rocks and across a gravel track to some wooden nesting boxes manmade of course (unless penguins have evolved to use hammers and nails?). The public get to watch from a seating platform under orange lighting. I enjoyed seeing the ickles arrive, but it was spoiled by the crowds of people and thety just don’t shut up! Why do people ignore the requests for quiet? It annoys me no end….. so after 2 hours of sitting in the cold and dark I am about to tuck myself into bed.PS – of you want to see the blue penguins ‘live’ check out the webcam at www.penguins.co.nz and view the nestbox.
I am now the proud adopted owner of a ‘Toyota Starlet’.. a bit like a Nissan Micra, grey and small but frendly and easy to drive. Leaving Christchurch at 1pm I motored along familiar roads north to Kaikora passing the 2 wineries where I got a bit tipsy on my birthday! In Kaikora I checking into the Albatros backpackers – very quaint colonial building in a backstreet run by ‘Heidi’ who had her hands in some bleach when I arrived, but who showed me around like I was an old friend and even picked me a fresh pink rose from her garden to put on my windowsill. My double bedroom is basic but seems OK. Cooking myself a pastas dish I then took a stroll along the beach of grey pebbles and through the houses to see how Kaikora residents live – the answer would seem to be : very comfortably with cute cottage gardens! Having had dubious sleep of late I opted for an early night with a book and was asleep by 9pm. Waking up at 5am to the sound of a bell bird outside my window was not what I had in mind! I was due at the whale centre by 7.15am so got up anyway, left the hostel as quiely as possible and killed time sitting in the car overlooking the bay hoping to spot dolphins. I didn;t see any. By 7.45am I was in a hot sticky bus with 40 other tourists and dropped on a harbour in South Bay to get onto the ‘Wheketene’ -a boat to take us out to sea. It seemed calm and I hadn;t taken any seasick pills. Within minutes the boat was powering along under the control of Captain Rex, and we had a running commentary and some geology lessons from Jane via a pc screen and microphone. The Kaikora coastline has a deep canyon over one mile deep which provides food for marine life and large mammals. It;s unique. The sea was pretty bouncy and I loved it, but before long the sick bags came out and one Japanese family puked in unison almost from the start! Revolting. I concentrated on the sea and looked for ’spouts’ of water to indicate a whale. We spent a very long time drifting and the skipper used a hydrophone to listen for whale ecolocation noises – it looked like he was dropping an alpine horn into the sea! He moved the boat a few miles further out and then we saw our first whale – BIG NICK so named after a missing piece of flesh in his dorsal fin! We only saw 10% of his body above the water, his blowhole, dorsal fin and tail – and after 10 mins of blowing water he did a deep dive flicking his tail above and down into the sea to be submerged for up to an hour. to kill time until he came back we did some more high speed jetting over the 2m swell – more puking from the Japs – and a bit more alpine horn dunking to no avail. Back in our original spot we were lucky to see Big Nick again as he came back for more air after his feeding dive. He gave an even better display of his tail and I even got a reasonable photo. Somehow though, the experience was a bit lacking. Back at shore we were whisked back by bus to our start point and I got into the starlet and left town for the last time. I can tick the sperm whale off my list now!Heading south west into the mountains behind Kaikora, the little starlet struggled a bit on the steep hairpins but at least it gave me time to admire the views sweeping across the prime grazing valleys of the Hurunui region. At every turn a new postcard shot of a farmstead, sheep or cattle grazing, a woolshed or barn. It is just lovely. About 2 hours later around 2pm I pulled into the YHA in Hanmer Springs. This small township nestles in the foothills of the high country with a wide river valley nearby. I’m sure it all has names, but I don’t know them. By winter this is a ski resort, by summer it has thermal pools and a spa – which are also a winter attraction I suppose but without the snow, there is nothing else to do here but soak your skin in sulphur and other noxious minerals all in the name of good health and cleansing. I had hoped for a tranquil period of relaxation in the mountains as the brochure had promised (photos of models reclining in pools of blue crystal water with gently rising steam and natural looking rock formations lining the pool alongside indiginous vegetation…and the snow capped mountains in the near distance). What I actually experienced was a noisy area under construction alongside a few ‘nice’ pools filled with far too many people, some very ordinary swimming pools and much too much general noise from kids screaming, parents yelling to their kids who couldn’t hear them above the screaming and hammers & drills. Shame. After one hour of trying to find a quiet spot to relax, I gave up, bought a greek salad from the resturant and sat in the shade with some well thumbed glamour magazines. This passed the time well and after learning about the romances and problems of Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts and Britney Spears with a flat white coffee and garlic breath strong enough to melt an entire country of vampires, I was ready for some spa treatment! It was with a feeling of intense superiority that I strolled from the ‘public’ pools to the ‘private’ spa through frosted glass doors where the atmosphere was transformed by cool air and music resembling whales playing harps from the ocean bed with zombie like people wandering about in white robes and slippers. I had a lovely sauna all to myself then a 60 minute massage – heaven. The only problem was the lack of hot water (one of the builders had drilled through a pipe or something) so I took a cold shower which is no good at all for removing the slimey massage cream from my body. Back at the hostel I met some folk in the kitchen – David (about 60) from UK but now in NZL sailed for 8 years around the world before settling here travelling with Jack (30 ish and from Singapore) who was a teacher (not sure of their relationship and didn;t like to ask) and a girl from Austria – and here is an example of how small the travelling world can be: When I was in Christchurch 2 weeks ago I saw a woman talking to the desk about where to get her stitched removed from a cut on her head… I paid little attention, but it was the same woman. Her stitches removed and all healing well. Apprently she slipped on a metal step at Franz Joseph ,.. or something. A few other girls arrived on ther hostel and hired a DVD which we all sat and watched before bed at 11pm. I left the next day bound for the south of the south island.
9th December Christchurch .. again….I left Akaroa this morning in bright sunshine and blue skies – a hard place to say goodbye to. I have the liberty of *FREE* internet in this hotel (more about the hotel later) so I can indulge myself and blog till I can’t blog no more.. this means that this post will be a longy – so you better get a cup of tea and a biccie or something. I fell in love with Akaroa, it really has everything. I planned to be there for 3 days and stayed almost a week in the Akaroa Village Inn ’safari’ apartment. I think this happens to people a lot and some never leave. Take a case in point – I had my hair done in Akaroa (highlights and a cut for the bargain price of $104 or about 4o quid) and a lovely woman called Beth told me her story. She came to visit and 2 years later is still here.. in a hair salon. You meet people on the street, or sitting on a bench, or drinking (excellent) coffee in on of the fine cafes overlooking the bay, and they all tell you a story of either moving there after visiting once, or wishing they could move there! This morning I paid my safari bill (about 50 quid each night) and had breakfast in the cafe below the hotel. Toast and jam with a ‘flat white’ which in English is a coffee with steamed milk But.. I hear you say.. isn’t that a cappucinno? well no it isn’t… ordering coffee in Australia and New Zealand is an art, and you had better learn or you get some confused baristas giving you that “hurry up and order’ look while you try to make sense of ‘long blacks’ ‘flat whites’ ’short whites’ etc… anywhere else you could be done for sizeist or racist abuse! Anyway, I talk about this breakfast because in all my time here I have yet to be served a ‘bad’ breccie. New Zealanders do cafe culture really well, and it seems to me there is a bit of a competition going on as to who can do the best coffee, toast, muffins, egg & bacon… whatever. In a place like Akaroa it is more acute since they all operate close to each other and it is natural for visitors to taste each place to compare them in an average 3-5 day stay. So I did try them all and I can announce that the winners are (Oscar style)….
- In the category of best ‘flat white’ the award goes to “Ma Maison” (I liked the fern leaf swirl in the frothy milk topping)
- In the category of best toast, the award goes to ‘Cafe Cirque’ (4 huge chunky toasted bread soldiers and home made jam)
- In the category of best hosts the award goes to “Turenne” who also provided excellent internet services ( I practically moved in!)
Actually they are all good, except for one place on the waterfront who did their best to ignore me completely even though I was the only customer they had… So, after my breccie I had some time to kill before the bus arrived to whick me back to Christchurch. I walked to the end of the wharf to sit on a bench and look for dolphins in the early morning stillness. No dolphins, but an old bloke (don’t know his name) sat there too. We exchanged ‘hellos’ then started to chat about the weather.. nice day… where you from.. type things. He lives there, has all his life as a lumberjack. He told me about how one time this whole area was covered in native bush. He spoke fondly about it and with a touch of sadness that it is now almost all gone replaced with sheep grazing. With a distant look in his eyes, I didn’t like to point out that his job was probably not the best one to have if cutting down trees upsets him. He also told me about all the ‘new money’ coming into Akaroa. A new home built behind the wharf up on the hill cost $8million, and there are plenty more like it.. ‘The young folk can’t afford to live here’, he told me. ‘ All money from overseas and Jafa;’s’ (Jafa’s are the lcoal affectionate term for auckland residents…. there are so many of them in Auckland (3million) that non jafa’s have a term for them ‘Just Another ‘effin’ Aucklander’ .We then got onto talking about the destruction of forests, the environment, the need for alternative fuels. etc etc.. it was all a bit heavy for me… I just wanted to sit and kill time looking for dolphins… Oh well. He was a nice bloke. I made my excuses and left to make sure the bus didn’t go without me. At 10am the sun was already burning ( that have hardly any ozone here) and I sought some shade. Watching the seagulls annoying visitors I spotted a couple with a toddler – both adults and toddler wearing identical red trousers and lurid green tshirt with red trainers.. I guessed they must be europeans and probably German – I was right! The father told the child not to play with a local dog (a scrappy terrier which hangs around the streets while his equally scrappy seadog of an owner tinkers with his scrappy car and scrappy boat) and it came out in german. Soon after the bus arrived and my heart sank – because sitting in the passenger seat was a woman I met briefly last week when I took the bus into Akaroa. She appears to have some authority over the bus staff, last week she rudely spoke to me interrupting my conversation with the driver about where to drop me in Akaroa with my luggage. She has no customer skills at all and even less charm. So, I boarded the bus whilst the frankly petrified driver put my bag in the back. The woman demanded my ticket and my name and in the same breadth told the drive to hurry up as we were already late ( I had delayed him by the usual small talk outside). I gave here a look which said ” don’t mind me – I’m just the customer” and gave her my ticket. She doesn’t belong in Akaroa, she is definitely a city person. Seconds into the 90 minute journey she began her endless nagging at the driver, criticising him, correcting him, telling him when to change gear, when to stop, when to pull out.. you get the idea. After a junction turn she told him to stop at the information centre to collect some people – it was clear by now, it was the driver’s first day on the job and he had no idea where the information centre was and she (helpfully) didn’t tell him. So, inevitably he almost drove past it, until she shrieked ‘STOPPPPP!’ and he slammed on the brakes. We collected 2 more passengers who also got the cold shoulder from ‘mrs charm’ and we left Akaroa behind….. I think we also left our wits behind too. the journey was really stressful, all of us as passengers exchanging looks to say ” who the hell does she think she is?” and pitying the driver. None of us said a word as this woman continued non-stop to bullwhip him with verbal abuse and patronising comments – oddly, she would stop for a pause then make some passing comment about people she knows who live here and there along the way, as if making polite conversation, then she reverted to her whiplashing. Really odd, but strangely entertaining. I really thought the driver was going to explode, but he just took it. Even when he crunched the gears up steep hills over and over, and she tutted under her breath, he never said a bad word to her. We passed a small village, she told him ” the bus never stops here, just keep driving” and just seconds later, and I am not making this up, she yelled “STOPPPP!” at him again. A lad on the roadside was flagging the bus down hopefully. She looked at the driver like he was an idiot and said “we’re picking him up, this is where you should stop to collect people from this spot” … I think at this point, the driver, the passengers, and very shortly after the newcomer took his seat, he too joined us in the realisation that Mrs Charm was stark raving bonkers and a control freak. I can only compare her to Hyacinth Bucket and her long suffering husband at the wheel of their car. About an hour later, still poking at him with her comments, she told him to drop her off at a crossroads in a small town outside Christchurch with strict instruction to pick her up again on his return. As the doors closed, we all breathed a sigh of relief, and the guy sitting up front said to the driver ” you must have the patience of a saint mate!” To which the driver just shrugged. The atmosphere was much improved and jovial with banter and jokes taking us into Christchurch. As I got my luggage from the driver I wished him good luck, and suggested instead of picking up Mrs Charm later he should just leave her there! Dragging my bag for ten minutes I arrived at HOTEL SO in Christchurch for one more night of luxury before hitting the Hostels again tomorrow. Hotel So is a new concept in city hotels and is simply Fabulous! The entrance has horizontal strips of neon lights in pink, yellow, green and blue, the lobby is done in beechwood and white and could be used as a locaton for an APPLE or Ipod advert – it is coooool! The lift takes you up each floor by lighting up a neon shape for every level to match the colours outside the building and the rooms are like space pods! My room is small, sure.. but it is coooool! A blue neon light under the bed gives the room a space shuttle feeling. The bathroom is behind a curving sliding door and houses futuristic fittings with a ‘mood’ light which you can change colour – I have gone for pink, but may well change to blue later.. or maybe green. we’ll see. There is a plasma screen at the end of the double bed and next to my pillow is a ‘control centre’ – the heartbeat of the room where you control your personal environment. Here are some cooooool features:
- The Mood light (I mentioned it already but it is soo cooooool it needs mention again!
- The snooze function…. set this for 15,30,45 or 60 mins and the room ‘goes to sleep’ slowly ..designed to send you drifting off to sleep
- 29 channels on tv… webcams from the bar downstairs, the lobby, the internet (which is 4 APPLE MACs on white counters with white stools – you get the picture) outside on the street… you can be a voyeur if you want!
- The mood channels… these are 4 types of mood images from around New Zealand set to chill out music – oceans, mountains, pasture, beaches… lovely. In the lobby are 6 screens which play the same channels 24 hours as you walk in the door.
- The virtual Concierge.. an interactive touch screen in the lobby
- A SO Welcome pack in the room – small boxes like Christmas presents containing shampoos, coffee and tea, sweets…….
- The wake up… a reverse of the snooze.. gently wakes you with the ’sunshine’ light and the mood channel on TV
If you come to Christchurch, stay here. That is all I have to say.So. Dumping my bags, taking a shower and walking out into the Christchurch afternoon sunshine I headed for the local supermarket (it is really hard to find good fresh food in the city centre) to buy fresh fruit and veg to make myself a healthy dinner in the communal and funky Hotel So kitchen. An hour later, after walking half an hour with a heavy bag of goceries including fresh chicken, veg, stiry fry sauce etc etc….. I stood in the Hotel So kitchen and my only thought was “Bugger”. In my haste and excitement at finding the ’sooooo cooooool!’ kitchen with dishwasher, endless supply of corckery, recycling bins, toaster, waffle maker etc etc etc… I didnlt notice that the bloddy ‘kitchen’ has no cooker, hob or pots and pans! So I now have loads of (expensive) fresh food and only a microwave at my disposal. I have 2 choices:
- Chop everything, microwave it separately on a plates, assemble it together on another plate, eat stir fry (hopefully not raw), put stuff in dishwasher.
- Walk half a mile down the street to the YHA.. sneak into the kitchen and use their stuff.
Still not sure, will let you know what decision I make. So what about the Freedom of the open road? After 3 months of buses and group travel I have decided to go it alone with a hire car, a vague plan of places I want to see and the very best ve-hickle that OMEGA can provide for $39 per day including insurance and an excess of $1000 for scrapes (maybe I should take out the extra insurance $9 pre day to reduce the excess to $500 – or not?). First I am heading north to Kaikora for a second attempt at Whale watching (it was cancelled on Nov 17th) then across to Hamner Springs for some therapy in the natural hot pools and spa… then south to Dunedin, Invercargill, Bluff (most southerly point), Stewart Island and back to Queenstown to dump the car and fly to Auckland where I collect another car and continue on my merry way… to somewhere I’ve not yet been, probably to Cape Reinga (the most northerly point) and the Bay of Plenty before returning to Auckland for New Year fireworks on the harbour. My only slight glich is my lack of accommodation for Christmas………. a small concern, since most Kiwis book their Christmas hotels in June and I have, well, left it too late! Even the hostels are booked out with backpackers. It may well be my first Christmas sleeping in the back of a small but economical hire car.I only hope that Santa can squeeze up the exhaust pipe to deliver my presents!I must go now because no doubt you’ve drunk your tea and have better things to do now.. and there is a guy behind me who keeps trying to clear his throat of whatever nasty substances are blocking his ‘tubes’ and I really can’t sit here and listen to the noises he is making… and I fee an urge to go back to my room and change my mood lighting! *********** UPDATE************UPDATE************Dinner was a success! I chose to stay in the hotel – partly because I was watching ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’ on SkyMovies, and partly cos I am too lazy to walk to the YHA and afraid of the rejection if I got caught using their kitchen….. so, I chopped a courgette, onion, pepper and raw chicken with an eating knife (no sharp knives) microwaved everything and it sort of worked…… I was under the curious scrutiny of a woman who looked like she was from China but said she came from Sydney – in a very chinese accent so I am sticking to my first assumption. She was waiting for me to free up the microwave sho she could heat up her food – and I kid you not – her ‘fod’ consisted of an open tin of nothing more exciting and appetising as… wait for it…. wait a bit longer…… ready?… are you sure?.. she had no sauces or anythig else to make it tasty…. OK I’ll tell you – her dinner was a tin of corned beef. Corned beef, on its own, wth nothing else. I served up my dish of chicken stiry fry splendour and make a swift exit. Some people are just wierd. At least the throaty bloke was gone so I could eat in peace and quiet on the white tables of the Hotel So lounge…. must go now… Harry Potter is doing battle with Voldemort in the graveyard of his father! Then it’s time for a Kevin Coster Movie about life guards or something……..
