it has been a few days since the last blog, so apologies- i’ve just not been in a particularly bloggy place. after the home-from-home backpackers that was Lazy Cow we found ourselves in a far more traditional hostel (ie. massive, impersonal, torn blankets, worn swirly carpets and filthy fridges. the sheets squeaked when you got into bed- enough said!), and i just didn’t really feel like unloading my thoughts there. i know that might sound impossibly weird, but i’ve found that to sit down with the computer and open up i’ve got to feel pretty comfortable and relaxed, and i just didn’t there.
but, i realised today that its now been over a week since i’ve filled a couple of pages with what i’ve been up to, and if i leave it much longer then the next blog will be the size of ‘War and Peace’! also, we are currently stationed in a really lovely hostel, so i no longer have any excuses!
so, when i last updated we were headed to the glaciers of Franz Josef and Fox. we did indeed make it there, but it was a bloody long drive, through fairly epic weather. it was such a strange experience- the weather here is really something else. after 24 hours of solid rain in Murchison we woke up the following morning to blue skies and raised hopes. however, once we hit the road we found that it was going to be far from a sunny day- we found ourselves driving through rain storms, hail storms, at one point there was thunder, but all interspersed with blue skies. so just as you thought that the worst of the rain was over, and you opened the car window to get some fresh air and sunshine the big sky taps turned on again and you were hastily winding it back up to avoid flooding the car.
we had always planned to break the journey at a famous NZ spot on the coast called the Pancake Rocks. these are interesting rock formations in the cliffs, which due to sediment and erosion and other complicated matters, are meant to look like multiple massive piles of pancakes jutting out of the sea. i can’t really tell you much about the science behind it because i didn’t get a chance to read all of the info boards- the rain proved a bit of a distraction. when we parked up it was looking clear, but ever the pessimist, and having learned from what we had driven through all morning i chucked my waterproof on just in case and insisted that the husband took his too. we felt the first splashes as we started out on the little trail around the edges of the cliffs. within 5 minutes the rain was driving down pretty heavily, waterproof hoods were up and it was getting difficult to concentrate on the impressive formations in front of us. within 10 minutes the rain was coming in at us sideways, somehow defying all the rules of gravity and meteorology and getting in under the hoods, and the last thing we were interested in was the pancake rocks. we rushed through the rest of the trail, pushing past children and elderly couples in our haste to get over the slippery pathway and back to the warmth and protection of the car. i cast the occasional furtive glance out through the hole i had left in my waterproof mac (in an attempt to keep my face dry I had pulled in all the elastic around the hood, and must have looked a little like Kenny from South Park by the end) and in my opinion they didn’t look anything like pancakes anyway, not like scotch pancakes, not like american pancakes and not even like crepes. i’ve certainly never seen a pancake with a corner on it. if anything they looked more like slightly clumsily piled stacks of A4 paper. i may contact the NZ tourist board and suggest a name change, though whether they will go for it i’m not sure- ‘Pancake Rocks’ sounds much more charming than the ‘Piles of Paper Rocks’.
by the time we got back to the car we were totally soaked- my jeans were wet through, my hair looked like I’d just got out of the shower and my socks and shoes were squelchy (little did i know this was just good practice for the next day, but more on that shortly). after a quick change in the front seat of the steamed up car (Grover is small, and there is not much room for manoeuvre in the passenger seat, so getting out of my soaking jeans involved a pretty impressive act of contortionism), and a hastily grabbed lunch of half an apple and a melted tim tam each out of the boot (the weather did not allow us to ponder the ‘menu’ ie. the contents of our supermarket bags, for any length of time.) we headed on.
we drove through a little place that I was keen to stop at called Pukekuru, which the Lonely Planet lists as having a population of 2. there is nothing much there other than a handful of goats, a shack which sells a few tourist bits and pieces, the odd item of clothing and an awful lot of possum fur goods. they have a reputation for hating possums even more than the average kiwi, and indeed the signs, newspaper cuttings, and stuffed possums around the shack all seemed to indicate the reputation was deserved. there is also a bar opposite the shack called the Puke Pub. they serve food in an area they have dubbed ‘The Roadkill Café’. their motto is ‘You kill it, we grill it.’.
the whole place has to be taken with a big pinch of salt…. which is incidentally i think the best way to serve grilled flattened possum…
we finally arrived at Fox, home of the glacier, at the end of the day, and it stopped raining long enough for us to unload our bags and chuck them into our little room in the aforementioned slightly grotty hostel. i feel a bit mean- it can only really have been as run down as the first place we stayed in Auckland, but we had been staying in much nicer places since then, and after a whole day in the car, and the torrential apocalyptic weather we had experienced it would have been lovely to be able to sink into a sofa, kick off our shoes and relax somewhere. Ivory Towers Backpackers was perfectly serviceable as a place to sleep, but for me it was not a ‘kick off your shoes’ kinda place! nonetheless, we weren’t in Fox for a lovely relaxing time- we had much more exciting plans, and they involved hiking on the glacier. after stopping in at the company that organises these hikes, and being reassured that actually the glaciers tend to look more spectacular and more blue in the rain, we booked on a tour for the following morning. we ended the evening by heading 5 minutes down the road and taking a quick turn (in between rain showers) round the stunning Lake Matheson, snapping off a few shots of the reflections in the water, and cooking up a sturdy preparatory dinner of sausage and mash in the massive kitchen on the slightly substandard equipment and got an early night to the sound of rain once again pattering on our windows.
sure enough, the next morning dawned dull, grey and rainy, but unperturbed we headed down to the village and got ourselves kitted up for the walk in borrowed massive hobnailed boots, waterproof trousers, jackets and oversized woolly mittens. the tour was fully booked, and we were split into 2 groups of 12- our leader was a friendly Manc called Tom, who seemed as enthusiastic as we were and keen to impart his knowledge. we approached the glacier and it truly was a sight to behold. a massive shift of ice, seemingly glowing blue in its crevices, squeezed between the two cliff faces on either side and filling them almost right up to the brim, which just comes to an abrupt end in the middle of the valley leaving a solid wall gnarled and patterned but impenetrable. we hiked up the cliff face along the side of it for an hour, in the pouring rain, through the trees and native rain forest. there were steps cut into the path (800 of them) and it could have been tough going but the pace of the group was set by the slowest and it was actually pretty easy, especially after our previous climb at the St Arnaud pass. at times i found myself willing the group to move faster, especially as the rain was soon seeping into the hobnailed boots and soaking the woollen mittens, and the chill from the glacier to our right was seeping into my bones just as fast. after what seemed an interminably long time we finally reached the edge of our glacier, and attached our borrowed crampons and picked up ice sticks to help us along the way. by this point i could actually feel the water moving between my toes in my boots, and it was starting to get a little uncomfortable to put it mildly.
walking on the glacier was a little bit like moving through a giant slush puppy- the ice below was solid, but the rain water had mixed with the chips of ice that had been dug out to make a path. we were told to walk with our feet shoulder width apart, always focusing on digging the crampons into the ice with the centre of our foot. due to the driving rain our heads were down for most of the time, and i can only imagine our little group of 13 looked like a damp, shivery and slightly uncoordinated line of penguins. and walking penguins don’t look coordinated at the best of times. we reached our ‘high point’, posed for some photos, did a little loop and then swiftly headed back down the side of the glacier. it was an amazing experience, and something i am so pleased that i got the opportunity to do, but at the same time i would be lying if i said that it was an enjoyable morning. it was a joy to get to the bottom, and to be back on the tour bus out of the heaving rain, and removing my soaking boots and wringing out my freezing socks and gloves and checking i still had 10 fingers and toes was an even bigger relief. i actually came out of the experience pretty well though- the husband’s waterproof trousers had proved to be anything but, and he didn’t just have to contend with wet feet but had also had to endure soaking trousers and pants for the second half of the hike. i am sure that had it not been raining the experience would have been much more positive and involved much less chafing, but at least we did it, have the cheesy photos to prove it, and i now know what a penguin must feel like on a bad day in the arctic!
we rested up for the afternoon with the heater blasting in our little room- the walking had totally taken it out of us, and the rain only got heavier as the day progressed- and then as the sun started to slip away the skies cleared and we decided on another loop of Lake Matheson. on a clear day Mount Cook and Mount Tasman are perfectly reflected in its waters, and the husband has a painting of this which he has been trying to recreate and capture on film for a number of years. he has already visited the lake 3 times on past NZ visits, and had always been faced with clouds, rain or wind that have made the reflection a lot less than perfect. strangely, though we had been struggling with clouds, rain and winds in the day time the evenings were much calmer, and on our second visit we got some great shots. we decided to reward the strenuous efforts of our day with dinner at the big local bar-come-restaurant in Fox, a place called Saddle Creek. the menu was anything but sophisticated but a glass of house red and my massive plate of slow braised sticky pork ribs (they were as long as my arm!) and chips was just what the doctor ordered, and filled me up sufficiently that I could even fall asleep on the squeaky sheets!
we happily checked out in the morning, did one last hasty loop of Lake Matheson which by this point we knew pretty well and hopefully got the final perfect shot, and then headed on our way. the weather seemed much clearer, and we drove through without incident to Haast. we had a little walk down to a penguin colony recommended to us by Jim, but we were passing through at the wrong time of day so didn’t hold out much hope of seeing anything. as we had suspected, the mama and papa penguins were all out fishing and the baby penguins were hidden away in nests in the scrub at the side of the beach, so all we really encountered were a load of sandflies. it did however break up the drive, which was a grand thing because i had taken the wheel that morning, and after several hours i was pretty tired and needing to concentrate on something straight forward like putting one foot in front of the other, and looking for small black and white birds rather than the lines in the middle of the road, the speedometer and the other cars driving up my backside.
we drove on to Wanaka, a stunning little town on the edge of a massive lake, which is a popular ski resort in the winter months. there was still snow on the tips of the mountains behind the lake when we arrived, but the sun was shining brightly and it felt very much like summer was on the way. we checked into a delightful backpackers on the hill overlooking the town and the lake, and almost instantly decided to extend our stay from the 2 nights we had booked, in order to give our weary bodies and minds a rest from the constant motion. we ended up settling for 4 nights instead, and along with spending a day horse riding, a day exploring an old Chinese mining settlement in the nearby Arrowtown and a day hiking we also got the chance to do some more mundane things like laundry and going to the cinema, and stocking up at the supermarket, which is a nice and necessary way to create a sense of normalcy when you are away travelling for long periods of time.
the horse trek was really fun- we had stunning scenery riding through the valleys and over the hills in the Cardrona region, and our horses were gorgeous and responsive Apaloosa’s. i was mildly nervous as we set off- i was introduced to my horse as Benji which sounded like a nice friendly name, but as the ride led out of the stables the owner corrected me and said “No, its Banshee, as in wailing angry ghost. And he farts loudly when he is nervous, and jumps around a little bit.”. this didn’t inspire the most confidence in me (even though I can sympathise with the loud farting), but he turned out to be a real gent of a horse, and he only let out one little guff and did a couple of spooks the whole ride, so i can assume he was as comfortable with me as i was with him. the lady leading knew i had some past experience, and the other 3 on the ride (including husband) were relatively novice and nervous, so she let me hold my horse back whenever i wanted and the ground permitted and have some good long canters on my own. it was really exhilarating to be back in the saddle again- i always forget how much I love it- and to be speeding solo round the empty mountain ranges, splashing through little streams and up over the brow of hills to find slightly bemused looking sheep staring at me, with the sun beating down on my back and the wind in my face was just breathtaking. i would be lying if i said that i didn’t have the dramatic Lord of the Rings soundtrack music playing in my head at those moments!
unfortunately, even with the western saddles that we were riding in which are generally much more comfortable than european styles, my bum and legs really felt the strain the next day. and the next day we had another glacier hike scheduled. thankfully, this one was much tamer than the Fox- just a 3-4 trek up a mountain side to view the Rob Roy glacier from the adjacent cliff side, so no crampons were required. and the weather was still playing ball for us, so we had gorgeous sunshine and clear blue skies all the way, and shorts and t-shirt were the order of the day rather than hobnailed boots and full waterproofs. nevertheless my aching bum muscles did mean we took the walk at a very leisurely pace, and had a long stop at the top for our (now requisite) mountain top lunch of corned beef and cheese slice sandwiches. the view from the top of the track was immense, and with the sun beating down on the glacier it looked indescribably beautiful. i’m not sure if it would have looked more blue if it had been raining, but i’m happy not to know! we saw several little avalanches whilst we sat eating our lunch and admiring the backdrop, which made the sheer size of the glacier come into sudden focus. what looks like a relatively small amount of snow shift on the glacier face, is in actual fact a huge amount, and the echoing sound of its mass crashing down the hillside and reverberating around the mountains is a shocking reminder as to the size of the glacier itself.
on Monday morning we left Wanaka, slightly reluctant but ready to be roving again, and got on the road to Queenstown. it is only an hour or so between the two towns, so we got to spend most of the day in New Zealand’s busiest tourist city. and i have to say, i quite liked it! Queenstown is a ski-destination during the winter months, but during the summer the clientele seem to remain much the same- buff and beautiful young 20-somethings looking for fun, frolics and thrills (whether they be gained on the piste, or at the end of a bungee cord or parachute it amounts to much the same). we may not exactly fit the stereotype, but the joie de vivre and happy-go-lucky vibe of the place is difficult to resist.
we started with a lovely glass of wine on the waterfront by the wharf, enjoying the sunshine and soaking up the chilled out atmosphere of the city. we proceeded to have a little trot round town to orientate ourselves and scope out possible restaurants for dinner. i even managed to drag the husband into a shop with a big ‘sale’ sign out front, and we added to his slightly meagre wardrobe by snapping up a bargainous pair of Rip Curl shorts for him. after the husband couldn’t face any more shopping (which wasn’t very long!) we headed up the hill to one of Queenstown’s most iconic tourist hot spots- the Luge. we caught a leisurely cable car up the mountain side, seemingly narrowly missing a bungee jumper on his rather more swift descent, and marvelled at the views of the city from the top. the queenstown luge has been in place since the 80’s and is enormous fun. i was a little worried that my luge driving would be as slow as my Grover driving, but it turns out i’m a little more brave when only a few centimetres from the ground wearing a cycling helmet and on 3 wheels, and i even beat the husband on the first lap down. after we got back down the mountain the husband retired to the backpackers to get over the luge excitement, and i took another turn around the shops (i couldn’t resist a bit more window shopping when the opportunity presented itself, but was very well behaved and came back with only half a pint of milk and a bottle of coke!).
after a quick scrub up, we headed out for a night on the town, me with fire in my belly and a craving for a party… and possibly jaeger bombs. and if you want jaeger bombs, Queenstown is the place to be! the kindly hostel manager had pointed us in the direction of some very good 2-4-1 deals, and we spent a lovely evening bar hopping round wood-clad, fire-pitted venues that would have been just as appropriate in Austrian mountain ranges, sharing a massive pizza and garlic bread, playing pool (it appears i’ve got even worse at this over the years, if possible!), drinking cocktails out of teapots and generally living the après-ski lifestyle to the full, only without the pre-ski! we even drank enough beers and jaeger in one bar to get the husband a free t-shirt, meaning he gained a whole new outfit in a day- i think i’m more excited about the additions to his wardrobe than he is, but then he doesn’t see anything wrong with wearing the same t-shirt 5 days in a row so it’s hardly surprising! as the clock struck one we swayed our way back to the hostel- it had started drizzling lightly, but for the first time on this trip i wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by the rain!
with slightly thumping heads we checked out of our hostel and Queenstown. i would have loved to have stayed longer in this most charming of cities- there were so many more lovely looking restaurants and bars that demanded my attention- but I suspect both my liver and my bank balance would not have appreciated much more time there. we spent the day today driving through more spectacular countryside to get to our latest destination, Lake Te Anau. we stopped en route for a picnic lunch at the Mavora lakes, a place that the husband remembers fondly from a previous visit, but unfortunately the reality didn’t quite live up to the picture of serenity and remoteness that his memory painted. the Labour day weekend is just finishing here today, a national holiday, so there were numerous people who had been camping at the lakes over the long weekend, all packing up and driving home as we arrived. every 10 minutes or so a 4x4 would roar down the narrow gravel track, kicking up dust and disturbing the quiet, and once again we found ourselves battling with tiny sandflies desperate to gnaw on our flesh! so we had a tasty yet hasty lunch and kept on our way, but it actually worked out to our benefit to push on through. the YHA hostel we checked into on arrival at Te Anau has a total oasis of a garden out the back, sheltered from the wind and with benches and chairs in the sunshine. I spent a most lovely few hours luxuriating in the afternoon rays with a cup of tea and my latest book (I’m finally joining the club and reading the Steig Larsson books, and actually finding ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ quite hard to put down!)- there may have been no Mavora Lake in front of me, but i was pretty bloody serene.
and that rather epic addition to the blog collection, brings us smack up to date. tomorrow we are leaving Te Anau for the afternoon and night, to do a Milford Sound overnight cruise. everyone who has been to Milford speaks in hushed tones of its beauty, and i’m very much looking forward to experiencing it for myself. i’ll try not to leave it so long between blogs next time, if for no other reason than our time in New Zealand is now in its final furlong, and if i’m not careful i’ll spend the entire last few days missing the scenery because my nose is in the laptop in an attempt to catch up with myself before we jump to a different country.
so farewell for now from Te Anau.
Monday, 25 October 2010
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
the road to becoming a Lazy Cow.
so, in the past 3 days i’ve cycled through breezy valleys, walked along sun-drenched beaches and climbed up snow-capped mountains. now I reside in a backpackers called ‘Lazy Cow’ as the rain smacks down on the road outside, recovering from my exertions!
the breezy valley cycling wasn’t actually too strenuous, given that the cycling itself was periodically interrupted by stops at vineyards to top up our blood-alcohol levels. we cycled the vineyards of Marlborough and the Wairau Valley on Thursday, and despite setting off a little late (11.30am) after a well deserved lie-in, we still had wine glasses in our hand and an interested and enthusiastic expression on our faces at the Cloudy Bay cellar door by midday. we had a great afternoon, we hit 6 vineyards in total including a favourite of our’s Nautilus, the iconic and perfectly turned out and marketed Cloudy Bay, the very friendly Hunter’s (which was started by an Irish man to impress an Auzzie girl- great story and delicious wine, so if you ever see it on a menu in the UK please buy it!) and the small but charming Bouldevines where we had our glasses filled by an ex-solicitor from Brum who had jacked it all in to start a new life in a beautiful place that she loved, doing something she was passionate about (very inspirational!). however, after tasting an average of 8-10 wines at each stop, and stubbornly refusing to to spit anything out other than the token mouthful of palate cleansing water, it was suddenly 5pm and all the vineyards were closing. we were a little bit wobbly and carefree on our bikes heading back to the hostel, which is not the best way to be on a road which is effectively the closest thing that New Zealand has to a motorway and where the speed limit is 100km an hour! and it turns out, that no matter how classy the wine i may be sampling, if i have enough of it on an empty stomach my desire for a portion of chips is just as strong as after a night on the cider or the jaeger-bombs!! as we cycled past the Renwick fish and chip shop, about the only place in the whole town that serves food, i virtually stamped my feet (if you can do that whilst pedalling furiously and in a wobbly manner!). the husband sensibly, because he knows what I’m like after a certain amount of white wine, acquiesced and we took home a $3 scoop of chips, and shared them out of the paper on a picnic bench in the garden of the backpackers with a stunning bottle of the boutique Te Whare Ra Gewurtztraminer, as the sun started to drop away. all in all a fantastic and satisfying day in the vineyards.
we hit the road, with me behind the wheel, in the direction of the port town of Nelson. virtually every Kiwi whom we had mentioned Nelson to had said “Ah Nelson, it’s a stunning place. I’d like to live there one day.”. it was a little strange- they always seemed to offer this without us even asking for comment, and we weren’t quite sure what kind of wonderland to expect on arrival.
after a relatively stressful drive (imagine 3 hours of continual twists and turns around the mountains, all of them either climbing up at a steep incline, or falling away at an equally treacherous gradient, with sheer cliffs either side of the road. seriously, it was 3 hours of constant turning left and right of the wheel, total concentration on my part, and other cars only ever appearing in my rear view mirror or veering towards me from the other side of the road, at the precise moment that the road to my left seemed to disappear into a craggy valley miles below) as an inexperienced driver by the time the signs for Nelson started appearing i was ready to weep with joy! nonetheless, the sun had mercifully been shining all the way, and after a bit of a false start when our first choice backpackers in the centre of town only had 2 beds in a bunk left in a 12 person dorm (we may be roughing it a bit, but packed out dorms are not really our thing unless entirely necessary!), we arrived at a sweet and colourful little hostel on the beach side of the city. we enthusiastically jumped out of the car and stretched our limbs in the glorious, warming sunshine, and after a brief and friendly check in (we were offered the special Lord of the Rings room, but amazingly the husband resisted the temptation and we went for the lightest, biggest double they had, instead of the one jam packed with memorabilia, posters and framed newspaper clippings and photos taken from various LOTR premieres) we parked up and got our tired bodies straight down to the beach. there was a bit of a prevailing wind, but hidden down by the edge of the sand dunes it was really protected, the sun was strong and bright and the sand was yellow and fine. it was our first real moment of enjoying the sunshine since we started, and we just luxuriated in the afternoon warmth reading books on a sarong and feeling like we were properly on holiday at last.
but we know how strong the sun is in the southern hemisphere, and there is a bit of a hole in the ozone layer over NZ, and besides our poor milky white English skin isn’t up to much sunlight, so after about 45 minutes we hauled ourselves up, covered ourselves up and went for a bit of a walk. we casually wandered along the beach, and then along the waterfront into town. in my head this couldn’t be that far (in my experience thus far, none of the kiwi cities, even the capital, are that large), and admittedly we weren’t walking at any great speed, but we walked for getting on to 2 hours, along the port side, past some lovely restaurants and swish looking apartments, crossing motorways, through parks and up hills filled with massive gorgeous new builds with the most amazing views over the bay, until finally we found ourselves in Nelson’s main drag, Trafalgar Street. i had done my research before we arrived, and knew that the annual Nelson Arts Festival was kicking off on the day we arrived, and that it was started by a bit of a masquerade parade through the main streets, so i wasn’t surprised to feel the hum of people as we approached the city centre or see that there were road blocks up. what did surprise me as we turned the corner was the sheer number of people who were out on the streets, lining up, sitting on the kerb, with coffees and ice creams, all happily chatting and patiently waiting. small children, many obviously in their best princess dresses and pirate outfits, were playing with each other and doing running races up and down the now pedestrianised Trafalgar Street, each one silently aware of the crowds on each side of them and patently running at very top speed to show off to their massive unexpected audience. we found ourselves having to squeeze along the shop fronts at the side of the pavement to get past, because the crowds were so dense- i had not seen that many people all in one place since landing in this country. stumbling across large crowds of people is quite unexpected in New Zealand! but the enthusiasm and excitement was quite overwhelming and we managed to squeeze ourselves into a spot relatively near the front on a street corner and settled down waiting for the show.
we didn’t have to wait long- within a few minutes we heard the beating of a bass drum and saw movement from the other end of the road. the parade seemed to take an interminably long time to reach our point, but when it did it soon became clear why the procession was so slow. the first group to come by us was representing a kindergarten group, and the hold up was because little toddler legs don’t walk so fast, especially when there is the odd one running in the wrong direction, and a few were finding the whole experience a little overwhelming and needed coaxing along. nevertheless we could feel the crowds either side urging them on, and there were quiet but enthusiastic ripples of applause for their little hand painted fish masks and tissue paper streamers. the next group, and the next group followed on, all much the same. on occasion the children were older- some were primary, and a few secondary schools dotted through- and there were one or two much more professional units, a Scottish marching band all in kilts, a group of questionably PC blacked up morris dancers, a rather ramshackle bunch of teenage stilt walkers and a salsa class of middle aged women for whom this was obviously the highlight of the year. however, the focus was very much on the little children, and making it a special afternoon for them. Mardi Gras this was most certainly not- it was unprofessional, stumbling and halting, there were big gaps between the groups walking past and occasional pile ups on the corner where the group behind caught up to the group in front and had to stand awkwardly waiting for the procession to move on. however, it was quite a lovely thing to watch and be part of. the feeling of community spirit was totally overwhelming- i know that i’m a big softie at heart but more than once i had a tear in my eye as the wee kiddies passed us by, marching proudly with their hand made costumes, many with an enthusiastic parent in hand, like it was the most important day of their lives. there must have been an audience of thousands lining the streets who had all turned out to make it special for them, and it really and truly was.
as it drew to a close the husband and i hustled in to a bar and discussed what a fantastic thing we had seen. that is not to say it was a fantastic parade- the costumes were more than amateur and the procession itself was ramshackle- but it was fantastic to feel the love of that city, the support and respect they have for each other, and the enthusiasm that abounds through its citizens to make Nelson a great place to live and to be. it seemed that people from every strata of their society had shown up- we were surrounded by mums and dads, pensioners and kids, middle aged bikers, pale faced goths, hotpant wearing teens and wavy haired hippies- and all of them were clapping enthusiastically as the parade moved past. had i been at a similar event in London I would have been keeping my bag close to my body with a hand over the zip, always having an ear out for trouble and an eye out for anyone getting too close to me. those thoughts didn’t even cross my mind at the Nelson parade- it was just a lovely place to be, surrounded by lovely people. i finally understood what all the kiwis we had met meant when they had raved about Nelson- it wasn’t just the beach, or the views, or the restaurants, or the nice houses on the hills that they aspired to. it is the community itself that makes Nelson such a great place to live.
we decided to head back to our hostel about 6pm as the evening chill started to set in, and bustled our way out of the now milling crowds who were finished with the procession and just filling the streets for a massive party. we took a gamble on the way home, and went straight through the cities suburbs rather than around the way we had come. the map in the lonely planet guide didn’t show any roads through in the direction we needed to go, but we kept our fingers crossed and hoped there may be a walkway or a pedestrian path that would get us back to the beach. there was a way through, but we must have walked up and down about 600 steps, and many metres of zig zag paths to get over the hills and back to the beach front. it took an hour and a half, and by the time we were half way to the hostel the decision had already been made in both our minds that cooking ourselves was out of the question, and a dinner out was in order. when we first set out to the beach in the afternoon, i had been thrilled to see a restaurant going by the name of Krauts, and we decided it would be rude and offensive to my german heritage not to go there and feast accordingly! we did, and we had all kinds of loveliness like schnitzel and spatzle, and green and red cabbage and rye bread and kase-something-or-other which was a creamy cheesey paprika flavoured dip, all washed down with a beautiful bottle of Nelson region Gewurtztraminer. it was delicious, and we slept well that night with full and heavy bellies- the german way!
it was a good thing that we filled up on friday night, because we had a big day planned for Saturday! we drove inland from Nelson, where we had planned a bit of a ramble up from Lake Roititi (i liked to call it ‘Roighty-toighty’), along the Mount Arnaud pass. the husband had done this before, 8 years previously, and assured me that though it was a bit of hard work, and would take about 5 hours in all, it wasn’t any harder than the walk up Rangitoto that we completed in Auckland. it was another beautiful cloudless sunny day, and when we arrived at the lake there were folks launching little dinghies, frolicking in the shallows, feeding the ducks and enjoying the weather (whilst trying to ignore the mini-plague of sandflies). we were prepared, with a little picnic of corned beef, bread rolls, cheese slices and a jar of tomato relish in my backpack, a penknife in the husband’s pocket and a bottle each of powerade in our hands. we wore proper walking shoes, and I even broke out my proper hiking socks.
it was hard, harder than we had both anticipated. after an enthusiastic skip for the first hour, trotting over little pretty babbling brooks that glinted in the sunlight, listening to the bird calls and smiling and chatting to each other, the trees closed in and the path got steeper. the sunlight was less bright, and the path was covered in leaf litter and mulch and tree roots everywhere. the gradient was not ridiculous, but it was constant and about 50 degrees, and we were climbing up big steps in the path where the earth had washed away from the bottom of tree roots and we had to haul ourselves up about a metre at a time. it wasn’t impossible, but it was very tiring, and we are unfit, untrained individuals on the more comfortable side of a healthy weight. we knew the whole walk should be 5 hours total, but we didn’t ever want to get to the very end, to the peak of the mountain, we were just aiming to break through the treeline. after we had been walking hard for 2 ½ hours, and there was no obvious break in the trees approaching, and the path just seemed to be getting steeper, with looser rocks for our tired feet to trip over, we started to lose faith. the husband kept saying he didn’t remember it being this hard first time round, and i think we were both privately considering turning round and heading back but weren’t quite sure how to bring it up with the other. thankfully, we kept our heads down and pushing on, and encountered a german walker on the path heading back down. she was fully decked out in long trousers, a woolly hat, a waterproof sports jacket and carrying 2 walking poles. i felt a little foolish in my little jersey buttock skimming shorts, Warehouse v-neck top and the broken tree branch that I had adopted as my ‘Gandalf staff’ halfway up the mountain when i felt the need to lean on something. she assured us that “it vas quite soon, not far, zough it is steep, maybe zirty minutes”. we were unclear as to whether she was referring to the end of the treeline, or the actual end of the trail, but it was enough encouragement to keep the forward momentum going a little further and sure enough, within another 15 minutes we could see the path opening out in front of us. the sky was suddenly all there again, stunning striking blue with still not a cloud in the sky, and there was snow underfoot. we found a snowless patch of rocks, with a stunning view over Lake Roighty-toighty, and the sun beating down on us to stop at- i have never been so pleased to have a corned beef, tomato relish and cheese slice sandwich! we rested up for about 25 minutes, but didn’t want to leave it much longer as we were already running later than planned, had been gone for 3 ½ hours and were painfully aware that if we sat still too long our muscles would seize up- we still had a long way to get back down.
down was different to up- difficult too but in a different way, and constantly concentrating so as not to get a toe stuck under a tree root, or to put a heel on a clump of loose rock was hard after the tiring struggle up. nonetheless, i was buoyed by the sense of achievement from getting as far as we did, and we made it back down to the base in just over 2 hours. right at the end i even found a little unexpected store of energy that i didn’t even know i had, and in an effort to get back to the car within the 2 hour mark i broke into a little jog, hopping over tree roots, and puddles and bounding through the trees. i felt like a cross-country runner back at school, and was surprisingly fresh and ready to run all the way back, but the husband most definitely thought i was having an attack of mentalism and he held the car keys, so in the end I waited for him to catch me up and we walked the final part.
which pretty much brings us to the Lazy Cow. it was less than an hours drive from the base of Mount Arnaud to Murchison where this hostel is located, and we had pre-booked and told them we would like them to cook us dinner (it was an option they offered- we weren’t just being demanding!). we arrived at about 6.30pm, fairly exhausted but just about keeping it together, only to be greeted by the wonderfully welcoming Phil who showed us a large, clean and modern room and in a broad Somerset accent told us his wife had finished the dinner and lasagne and garlicky buttery toast would be ready just as soon as we were ready for it. we were ready pretty quickly, and i have not eaten a plate of food that size that quickly in my memory. i’m normally one to savour my food, chew slowly, talk lots and take my time over a meal, but i don’t think it even hit the sides of my throat going down. just as soon as was polite to leave the table i was curled up on the communal sofas in front of a wood burner, with a movie on the tv and feeling more relaxed and at home than i have done since starting the trip. i’m not sure if it was just the physical tiredness that made me so relaxed here, but i think not and that it is something in the way that the lovely ex-pat couple have organised the hostel that makes it such a haven. all the comments in the guest book describe it as a home-from-home, and the Lonely Planet guide calls it the homeliest hostel around, and after we checked the weather forecast and saw it was due to rain all day Sunday we made a swift decision to delay our departure and stay another night.
so we have had a wonderfully ‘do-nothing’ day. my initial reaction was that we must do something- go out for lunch, or a drive, or visit some exhibit- but as the husband pointed out, we are on this trip for 5 months, it is not a 2 week holiday, and we have to have some downtime on occasion. and what better place to spend a rainy sunday than in a friendly homely hostel, resting up and stretching out our achy muscles, eating free muffins (did I mention they provide free muffins. I’ve had 3 since we checked in!), drinking tea, catching up on emails and blogging, and reading and watching DVDs in front of a real log fire. we did brave the rain and go across the road to the supermarket twice to break up the day, and also once to go to the pub and have a beer this afternoon, but other than that its been very lazy. the most strenuous thing I’ve done all day is chop some potatoes to make a corned beef hash for dinner- i was adamant that we use up the leftovers after I carried them all the way up and then back down the mountain!- which was a triumph and utterly delicious. i feel like a true lazy cow, and it has been great.
my only worry now, as I listen to the rain still beating on the window outside is whether i can work up the enthusiasm to get up, pack up and leave tomorrow and not stay on a further day with the lovely Alison and Phil.
but the glaciers beckon- perhaps if they let me take a muffin for the road it’ll be ok!
the breezy valley cycling wasn’t actually too strenuous, given that the cycling itself was periodically interrupted by stops at vineyards to top up our blood-alcohol levels. we cycled the vineyards of Marlborough and the Wairau Valley on Thursday, and despite setting off a little late (11.30am) after a well deserved lie-in, we still had wine glasses in our hand and an interested and enthusiastic expression on our faces at the Cloudy Bay cellar door by midday. we had a great afternoon, we hit 6 vineyards in total including a favourite of our’s Nautilus, the iconic and perfectly turned out and marketed Cloudy Bay, the very friendly Hunter’s (which was started by an Irish man to impress an Auzzie girl- great story and delicious wine, so if you ever see it on a menu in the UK please buy it!) and the small but charming Bouldevines where we had our glasses filled by an ex-solicitor from Brum who had jacked it all in to start a new life in a beautiful place that she loved, doing something she was passionate about (very inspirational!). however, after tasting an average of 8-10 wines at each stop, and stubbornly refusing to to spit anything out other than the token mouthful of palate cleansing water, it was suddenly 5pm and all the vineyards were closing. we were a little bit wobbly and carefree on our bikes heading back to the hostel, which is not the best way to be on a road which is effectively the closest thing that New Zealand has to a motorway and where the speed limit is 100km an hour! and it turns out, that no matter how classy the wine i may be sampling, if i have enough of it on an empty stomach my desire for a portion of chips is just as strong as after a night on the cider or the jaeger-bombs!! as we cycled past the Renwick fish and chip shop, about the only place in the whole town that serves food, i virtually stamped my feet (if you can do that whilst pedalling furiously and in a wobbly manner!). the husband sensibly, because he knows what I’m like after a certain amount of white wine, acquiesced and we took home a $3 scoop of chips, and shared them out of the paper on a picnic bench in the garden of the backpackers with a stunning bottle of the boutique Te Whare Ra Gewurtztraminer, as the sun started to drop away. all in all a fantastic and satisfying day in the vineyards.
we hit the road, with me behind the wheel, in the direction of the port town of Nelson. virtually every Kiwi whom we had mentioned Nelson to had said “Ah Nelson, it’s a stunning place. I’d like to live there one day.”. it was a little strange- they always seemed to offer this without us even asking for comment, and we weren’t quite sure what kind of wonderland to expect on arrival.
after a relatively stressful drive (imagine 3 hours of continual twists and turns around the mountains, all of them either climbing up at a steep incline, or falling away at an equally treacherous gradient, with sheer cliffs either side of the road. seriously, it was 3 hours of constant turning left and right of the wheel, total concentration on my part, and other cars only ever appearing in my rear view mirror or veering towards me from the other side of the road, at the precise moment that the road to my left seemed to disappear into a craggy valley miles below) as an inexperienced driver by the time the signs for Nelson started appearing i was ready to weep with joy! nonetheless, the sun had mercifully been shining all the way, and after a bit of a false start when our first choice backpackers in the centre of town only had 2 beds in a bunk left in a 12 person dorm (we may be roughing it a bit, but packed out dorms are not really our thing unless entirely necessary!), we arrived at a sweet and colourful little hostel on the beach side of the city. we enthusiastically jumped out of the car and stretched our limbs in the glorious, warming sunshine, and after a brief and friendly check in (we were offered the special Lord of the Rings room, but amazingly the husband resisted the temptation and we went for the lightest, biggest double they had, instead of the one jam packed with memorabilia, posters and framed newspaper clippings and photos taken from various LOTR premieres) we parked up and got our tired bodies straight down to the beach. there was a bit of a prevailing wind, but hidden down by the edge of the sand dunes it was really protected, the sun was strong and bright and the sand was yellow and fine. it was our first real moment of enjoying the sunshine since we started, and we just luxuriated in the afternoon warmth reading books on a sarong and feeling like we were properly on holiday at last.
but we know how strong the sun is in the southern hemisphere, and there is a bit of a hole in the ozone layer over NZ, and besides our poor milky white English skin isn’t up to much sunlight, so after about 45 minutes we hauled ourselves up, covered ourselves up and went for a bit of a walk. we casually wandered along the beach, and then along the waterfront into town. in my head this couldn’t be that far (in my experience thus far, none of the kiwi cities, even the capital, are that large), and admittedly we weren’t walking at any great speed, but we walked for getting on to 2 hours, along the port side, past some lovely restaurants and swish looking apartments, crossing motorways, through parks and up hills filled with massive gorgeous new builds with the most amazing views over the bay, until finally we found ourselves in Nelson’s main drag, Trafalgar Street. i had done my research before we arrived, and knew that the annual Nelson Arts Festival was kicking off on the day we arrived, and that it was started by a bit of a masquerade parade through the main streets, so i wasn’t surprised to feel the hum of people as we approached the city centre or see that there were road blocks up. what did surprise me as we turned the corner was the sheer number of people who were out on the streets, lining up, sitting on the kerb, with coffees and ice creams, all happily chatting and patiently waiting. small children, many obviously in their best princess dresses and pirate outfits, were playing with each other and doing running races up and down the now pedestrianised Trafalgar Street, each one silently aware of the crowds on each side of them and patently running at very top speed to show off to their massive unexpected audience. we found ourselves having to squeeze along the shop fronts at the side of the pavement to get past, because the crowds were so dense- i had not seen that many people all in one place since landing in this country. stumbling across large crowds of people is quite unexpected in New Zealand! but the enthusiasm and excitement was quite overwhelming and we managed to squeeze ourselves into a spot relatively near the front on a street corner and settled down waiting for the show.
we didn’t have to wait long- within a few minutes we heard the beating of a bass drum and saw movement from the other end of the road. the parade seemed to take an interminably long time to reach our point, but when it did it soon became clear why the procession was so slow. the first group to come by us was representing a kindergarten group, and the hold up was because little toddler legs don’t walk so fast, especially when there is the odd one running in the wrong direction, and a few were finding the whole experience a little overwhelming and needed coaxing along. nevertheless we could feel the crowds either side urging them on, and there were quiet but enthusiastic ripples of applause for their little hand painted fish masks and tissue paper streamers. the next group, and the next group followed on, all much the same. on occasion the children were older- some were primary, and a few secondary schools dotted through- and there were one or two much more professional units, a Scottish marching band all in kilts, a group of questionably PC blacked up morris dancers, a rather ramshackle bunch of teenage stilt walkers and a salsa class of middle aged women for whom this was obviously the highlight of the year. however, the focus was very much on the little children, and making it a special afternoon for them. Mardi Gras this was most certainly not- it was unprofessional, stumbling and halting, there were big gaps between the groups walking past and occasional pile ups on the corner where the group behind caught up to the group in front and had to stand awkwardly waiting for the procession to move on. however, it was quite a lovely thing to watch and be part of. the feeling of community spirit was totally overwhelming- i know that i’m a big softie at heart but more than once i had a tear in my eye as the wee kiddies passed us by, marching proudly with their hand made costumes, many with an enthusiastic parent in hand, like it was the most important day of their lives. there must have been an audience of thousands lining the streets who had all turned out to make it special for them, and it really and truly was.
as it drew to a close the husband and i hustled in to a bar and discussed what a fantastic thing we had seen. that is not to say it was a fantastic parade- the costumes were more than amateur and the procession itself was ramshackle- but it was fantastic to feel the love of that city, the support and respect they have for each other, and the enthusiasm that abounds through its citizens to make Nelson a great place to live and to be. it seemed that people from every strata of their society had shown up- we were surrounded by mums and dads, pensioners and kids, middle aged bikers, pale faced goths, hotpant wearing teens and wavy haired hippies- and all of them were clapping enthusiastically as the parade moved past. had i been at a similar event in London I would have been keeping my bag close to my body with a hand over the zip, always having an ear out for trouble and an eye out for anyone getting too close to me. those thoughts didn’t even cross my mind at the Nelson parade- it was just a lovely place to be, surrounded by lovely people. i finally understood what all the kiwis we had met meant when they had raved about Nelson- it wasn’t just the beach, or the views, or the restaurants, or the nice houses on the hills that they aspired to. it is the community itself that makes Nelson such a great place to live.
we decided to head back to our hostel about 6pm as the evening chill started to set in, and bustled our way out of the now milling crowds who were finished with the procession and just filling the streets for a massive party. we took a gamble on the way home, and went straight through the cities suburbs rather than around the way we had come. the map in the lonely planet guide didn’t show any roads through in the direction we needed to go, but we kept our fingers crossed and hoped there may be a walkway or a pedestrian path that would get us back to the beach. there was a way through, but we must have walked up and down about 600 steps, and many metres of zig zag paths to get over the hills and back to the beach front. it took an hour and a half, and by the time we were half way to the hostel the decision had already been made in both our minds that cooking ourselves was out of the question, and a dinner out was in order. when we first set out to the beach in the afternoon, i had been thrilled to see a restaurant going by the name of Krauts, and we decided it would be rude and offensive to my german heritage not to go there and feast accordingly! we did, and we had all kinds of loveliness like schnitzel and spatzle, and green and red cabbage and rye bread and kase-something-or-other which was a creamy cheesey paprika flavoured dip, all washed down with a beautiful bottle of Nelson region Gewurtztraminer. it was delicious, and we slept well that night with full and heavy bellies- the german way!
it was a good thing that we filled up on friday night, because we had a big day planned for Saturday! we drove inland from Nelson, where we had planned a bit of a ramble up from Lake Roititi (i liked to call it ‘Roighty-toighty’), along the Mount Arnaud pass. the husband had done this before, 8 years previously, and assured me that though it was a bit of hard work, and would take about 5 hours in all, it wasn’t any harder than the walk up Rangitoto that we completed in Auckland. it was another beautiful cloudless sunny day, and when we arrived at the lake there were folks launching little dinghies, frolicking in the shallows, feeding the ducks and enjoying the weather (whilst trying to ignore the mini-plague of sandflies). we were prepared, with a little picnic of corned beef, bread rolls, cheese slices and a jar of tomato relish in my backpack, a penknife in the husband’s pocket and a bottle each of powerade in our hands. we wore proper walking shoes, and I even broke out my proper hiking socks.
it was hard, harder than we had both anticipated. after an enthusiastic skip for the first hour, trotting over little pretty babbling brooks that glinted in the sunlight, listening to the bird calls and smiling and chatting to each other, the trees closed in and the path got steeper. the sunlight was less bright, and the path was covered in leaf litter and mulch and tree roots everywhere. the gradient was not ridiculous, but it was constant and about 50 degrees, and we were climbing up big steps in the path where the earth had washed away from the bottom of tree roots and we had to haul ourselves up about a metre at a time. it wasn’t impossible, but it was very tiring, and we are unfit, untrained individuals on the more comfortable side of a healthy weight. we knew the whole walk should be 5 hours total, but we didn’t ever want to get to the very end, to the peak of the mountain, we were just aiming to break through the treeline. after we had been walking hard for 2 ½ hours, and there was no obvious break in the trees approaching, and the path just seemed to be getting steeper, with looser rocks for our tired feet to trip over, we started to lose faith. the husband kept saying he didn’t remember it being this hard first time round, and i think we were both privately considering turning round and heading back but weren’t quite sure how to bring it up with the other. thankfully, we kept our heads down and pushing on, and encountered a german walker on the path heading back down. she was fully decked out in long trousers, a woolly hat, a waterproof sports jacket and carrying 2 walking poles. i felt a little foolish in my little jersey buttock skimming shorts, Warehouse v-neck top and the broken tree branch that I had adopted as my ‘Gandalf staff’ halfway up the mountain when i felt the need to lean on something. she assured us that “it vas quite soon, not far, zough it is steep, maybe zirty minutes”. we were unclear as to whether she was referring to the end of the treeline, or the actual end of the trail, but it was enough encouragement to keep the forward momentum going a little further and sure enough, within another 15 minutes we could see the path opening out in front of us. the sky was suddenly all there again, stunning striking blue with still not a cloud in the sky, and there was snow underfoot. we found a snowless patch of rocks, with a stunning view over Lake Roighty-toighty, and the sun beating down on us to stop at- i have never been so pleased to have a corned beef, tomato relish and cheese slice sandwich! we rested up for about 25 minutes, but didn’t want to leave it much longer as we were already running later than planned, had been gone for 3 ½ hours and were painfully aware that if we sat still too long our muscles would seize up- we still had a long way to get back down.
down was different to up- difficult too but in a different way, and constantly concentrating so as not to get a toe stuck under a tree root, or to put a heel on a clump of loose rock was hard after the tiring struggle up. nonetheless, i was buoyed by the sense of achievement from getting as far as we did, and we made it back down to the base in just over 2 hours. right at the end i even found a little unexpected store of energy that i didn’t even know i had, and in an effort to get back to the car within the 2 hour mark i broke into a little jog, hopping over tree roots, and puddles and bounding through the trees. i felt like a cross-country runner back at school, and was surprisingly fresh and ready to run all the way back, but the husband most definitely thought i was having an attack of mentalism and he held the car keys, so in the end I waited for him to catch me up and we walked the final part.
which pretty much brings us to the Lazy Cow. it was less than an hours drive from the base of Mount Arnaud to Murchison where this hostel is located, and we had pre-booked and told them we would like them to cook us dinner (it was an option they offered- we weren’t just being demanding!). we arrived at about 6.30pm, fairly exhausted but just about keeping it together, only to be greeted by the wonderfully welcoming Phil who showed us a large, clean and modern room and in a broad Somerset accent told us his wife had finished the dinner and lasagne and garlicky buttery toast would be ready just as soon as we were ready for it. we were ready pretty quickly, and i have not eaten a plate of food that size that quickly in my memory. i’m normally one to savour my food, chew slowly, talk lots and take my time over a meal, but i don’t think it even hit the sides of my throat going down. just as soon as was polite to leave the table i was curled up on the communal sofas in front of a wood burner, with a movie on the tv and feeling more relaxed and at home than i have done since starting the trip. i’m not sure if it was just the physical tiredness that made me so relaxed here, but i think not and that it is something in the way that the lovely ex-pat couple have organised the hostel that makes it such a haven. all the comments in the guest book describe it as a home-from-home, and the Lonely Planet guide calls it the homeliest hostel around, and after we checked the weather forecast and saw it was due to rain all day Sunday we made a swift decision to delay our departure and stay another night.
so we have had a wonderfully ‘do-nothing’ day. my initial reaction was that we must do something- go out for lunch, or a drive, or visit some exhibit- but as the husband pointed out, we are on this trip for 5 months, it is not a 2 week holiday, and we have to have some downtime on occasion. and what better place to spend a rainy sunday than in a friendly homely hostel, resting up and stretching out our achy muscles, eating free muffins (did I mention they provide free muffins. I’ve had 3 since we checked in!), drinking tea, catching up on emails and blogging, and reading and watching DVDs in front of a real log fire. we did brave the rain and go across the road to the supermarket twice to break up the day, and also once to go to the pub and have a beer this afternoon, but other than that its been very lazy. the most strenuous thing I’ve done all day is chop some potatoes to make a corned beef hash for dinner- i was adamant that we use up the leftovers after I carried them all the way up and then back down the mountain!- which was a triumph and utterly delicious. i feel like a true lazy cow, and it has been great.
my only worry now, as I listen to the rain still beating on the window outside is whether i can work up the enthusiasm to get up, pack up and leave tomorrow and not stay on a further day with the lovely Alison and Phil.
but the glaciers beckon- perhaps if they let me take a muffin for the road it’ll be ok!
whale me! wine me!
i must open this blog with shocking news.
i have been informed that with my increasing years (of course i am less thana year off 30 now!) my brain power is failing, age has clouded my memory and i have made a humiliating mistake.
Grover was the cute blue try-hard one in Sesame Street. i was thinking of Oscar the Grouch. the car should have been named Oscar, not Grover. i realised that i had made this mistake when the husband, who never watched Sesame Street as a child (unbelievable but true) went on to google images on our first evening in Kaikoura to see what i was on about with my choice of name for the car and just quietly reported “Grover is blue.”. so convinced was i of my Sesame Street knowledge that I actually briefly thought that he was talking about the car, and had suddenly seen it in a different light as a different colour. it was then brought to my attention through a facebook post, and it seems i was very wrong.
but, we have travelled so far with the little car already, all the way from Auckland, that it seems wrong to change it’s name now. it also put up a sterling effort on Monday, and did try really hard, just like little Grover in the tv show. due to a bit of a school boy error we ended up testing the car to its very limits. we left Picton port on the South Island, with a ¼ tank of petrol, but there was a petrol station in every little town, so the husband made an executive decision to wait to fill up. the long and short of the story is that I had a nap, only to wake up and see that the weather had closed right in, we were in the middle of nowhere, and there was a very concerned look on the husband’s face. we were driving through stunning countryside, but the only thing either of us could focus on was the fuel gauge hovering over ‘E’. rain was hammering on the windscreen, the car was being buffeted by what we later discovered were gale force winds, and we ended up travelling all the way to our final destination without coming across another petrol station. by my reckoning, comparing the landscape outside the steamed up windows to the very basic map in my lap, we struggled on for about 50km on a totally empty fuel tank. that little car was like ‘the train that could’, and certainly deserves his name. it seems only fair that it is known as a try-hard Grover rather than a grouchy Oscar!
the ferry journey from Wellington to Picton on the South Island was apparently one of the roughest in years. this information comes to us courtesy of a very friendly but quite manic-crazy lady in the Subway in Kaikoura though, so perhaps should be taken with a pinch of salt. in the same conversation she asked us if we were planning on making babies on our trip, about 2 minutes after we had exchanged ‘hellos’, and then she followed with it with a shriek of “Myde in Nu Zeeland, hutched in Yoo Kay! Myde in Nu Zeeland, hutched in Yoo Kay!” and collapsed into giggles (please read aloud at the top of your voice to get the full effect!). so after the bumpy ferry ride, and the nail biting car drive, we were thrilled to arrive at Sunrise Lodge in Kaikoura, and even more pleased that they had availability. the friendly owners explained their only spare double bedroom had a broken heater, so they offered to cut us a deal on their studio unit which we gratefully accepted, and were soon settled in to the total luxury of a massive room with en suite bathroom, queen size bed, private kitchen unit, tv set, sofa and wi-fi, with a Subway next door!
we booked ourselves straight on to a whale watching tour for the next day, and then trotted down to the headland to spend some quality time picking over the rocks and staring at the slumbering seals. by this time the wind was still biting, but the sun was shining, and it was a real pleasure to sneak around and peek at these funny lazy looking creatures, with their strangely human mannerisms. the way they reach around to contemplatively scratch their bellies with a claw, or slowly lift their head to blink at you and yawn is utterly charming, even though you fully know that if you got between them and the water, or if they simply took a dislike to you, they have an impressive turn of speed and long sharp teeth and strong snapping jaws. we kept our distance, and got away with just some great photos!
the empty car park at the headland seemed as good a place as any to give myself a reminder driving lesson. it’s been 9 years since i’ve driven- i took my test at 20, but could never afford my own car as a student and haven’t ever needed to drive since living in London- and i have been pretty nervous at the prospect of getting behind the wheel again. however, within just a few seconds I was tootling off down the empty roads of Kaikoura happy as a pig in poop! the husband hasn’t been able to get me out from the driving seat since, though i think he is quite enjoying only having the responsibility of picking the soundtrack to our drives and the odd bit of map reading!
we took advantage of the private kitchen in our unit to make ourselves dinner, and had a lazy night in with a bottle of red and caught up on our emails. the following morning we woke up to a stunning blue sky with not a wisp or a hint of a cloud to be seen, and the snow tipped mountains that had been wreathed in greyness on our check in now formed a backdrop worthy of a film set. perfect whale watching weather! we caught our boat out from the South Bay, and despite warnings that the conditions may be a bit rough and cause sea-sickness we chose to sit at the front in the ‘roughest’ bit. perhaps naively, i thought growing up by the coast in Dorset, and spending many happy days on boats i would be fine, but the swell once we got started was pretty massive. my stomach was lurching into my throat after each wave, and the nausea started to kick in after about 20 minutes. thankfully, we got the sonar waves of a sperm whale pretty quickly, and the boat lumbered into position by the beast and shut off the engines. we got to watch this magnificent creature resting on the top of the waves for about 10 minutes, periodically spouting water every 15 seconds, and despite the swell lifting and dropping our boat dramatically all thoughts of sea-sickness were very far from our minds. it eventually breathed in and out a final time, stretched its body a little out of the waves and then slipped away in front of us, kicking its massive tail up and silently dropping away into the blackness. thrillingly, we heard the sonar for another 2 sperm whales during our trip and got to watch them dive too before we had to head back to shore. there was a brief promise of a blue whale on the way back, but unfortunately we arrived at the location it had been spotted a bit too late and this search proved fruitless. nonetheless it was a breathtaking few hours and difficult to comprehend how many of these massive creatures were swimming around in the deep below us, totally invisible to the human eye and just going around their daily business. i felt really honoured to be able to see these monoliths in their natural habitat, and only hope that they do not head the way of many other whales around the world and hit the endangered list.
we explored the Kaikoura area further in the afternoon, and enjoyed a New Zealand speciality called ‘pauwa’ (a shellfish akin to Abalone with a beautifully coloured shell, but a disconcertingly blueish-grey coloured chewy flesh- i must say, though i was pleased to try it, i remain to be blown away!) from a roadside BBQ stall and a delicious beer in the now roasting sunshine. we checked out a couple of viewpoints as the sun started to set, and headed back to our little studio as the evening chill set in for another cosy night in.
wednesday morning brought another longish drive as we headed in the direction of the world famous wine region of Blenheim, and our backpackers in the neighbouring town of Renwick. here we had vineyard plans, many serious vineyard plans, so on the way to Renwick we stopped off at the Montana vineyard to get warmed up and into the swing of things. i was a little unsure initially of how the wine tasting thing works, but with a friendly smile and ‘we’d like to try your wine please’ we found ourselves offered a selection of their best wines (too good to be exported to the UK!) and given a lesson about their history, and some tips on which wines to look out for next year once we are home.
once we had dropped our bags and checked in at our next stopover, a slightly twee but sweet spot called Watson’s Way, run by a couple of septegenerians (they may have crappy taste in interior furnishings and like having the lights switched off at 10pm, but they do have electric blankets which is a treat on these chilly nights!) we kept on the wine tasting trail.
we hit Mud House in the afternoon, a favourite brand of wine for both of us, where we bonded wonderfully with the lady at the cellar door. after initially saying that we could try one or two for free, but would have to pay for any more, we got her talking and ended up trying not just the 5 she had out on display, but another 3 extras of different vineyards and vintages to ensure we got a good comparison! in a grand finale, she pulled a little bottle out from under her desk, and said “Seeing as you are such fans of Mud House…”. she gave us a sample of a desert wine from 2006, a ‘Late Summer Riesling’ which is not available for sale, not available for tasting, but which they sometimes use in their restaurant and that she had managed to sneak away from the kitchen for the staff to taste. we felt really special, and it was utterly delicious. to the lovely Kathy in Mud House on Maxwell Street- we salute you!
getting in to the swing of things, we then walked to a little boutique vineyard near our hostel called ‘Te Whare Ra’. there we found a gorgeous, soppy hungarian vizla to play with, and were given another 9 wines to try. again none of these are currently exported to the UK, and all were a revelation. we even got to see behind the cellar door, into the room where the magic happens, and we learned all about the vineyard’s workings. it is such a small place that it is run entirely by 4 people, the owner and his wife (who was conducting the tasting, and explained that they met working in wines in Australia, but managed to escape the clutches of the wine giant Hardys to buy this, their own vineyard, 5 years ago) and 2 other permanent staff, and everything is made on site for relatively limited runs of their award winning boutique wines.
thursday, tomorrow, the weather is forecast to be sunny again and is a day we have dedicated even more fully to the wine tasting experience. we are hiring bikes so we can hit more vineyards without unwittingly drink driving, and doing it properly. god help us…. or god help the vineyards!
either way i can’t wait to continue my wine education, and maybe get a little tiddly along the way! i will report back as much as i can remember in the next blog!
i have been informed that with my increasing years (of course i am less thana year off 30 now!) my brain power is failing, age has clouded my memory and i have made a humiliating mistake.
Grover was the cute blue try-hard one in Sesame Street. i was thinking of Oscar the Grouch. the car should have been named Oscar, not Grover. i realised that i had made this mistake when the husband, who never watched Sesame Street as a child (unbelievable but true) went on to google images on our first evening in Kaikoura to see what i was on about with my choice of name for the car and just quietly reported “Grover is blue.”. so convinced was i of my Sesame Street knowledge that I actually briefly thought that he was talking about the car, and had suddenly seen it in a different light as a different colour. it was then brought to my attention through a facebook post, and it seems i was very wrong.
but, we have travelled so far with the little car already, all the way from Auckland, that it seems wrong to change it’s name now. it also put up a sterling effort on Monday, and did try really hard, just like little Grover in the tv show. due to a bit of a school boy error we ended up testing the car to its very limits. we left Picton port on the South Island, with a ¼ tank of petrol, but there was a petrol station in every little town, so the husband made an executive decision to wait to fill up. the long and short of the story is that I had a nap, only to wake up and see that the weather had closed right in, we were in the middle of nowhere, and there was a very concerned look on the husband’s face. we were driving through stunning countryside, but the only thing either of us could focus on was the fuel gauge hovering over ‘E’. rain was hammering on the windscreen, the car was being buffeted by what we later discovered were gale force winds, and we ended up travelling all the way to our final destination without coming across another petrol station. by my reckoning, comparing the landscape outside the steamed up windows to the very basic map in my lap, we struggled on for about 50km on a totally empty fuel tank. that little car was like ‘the train that could’, and certainly deserves his name. it seems only fair that it is known as a try-hard Grover rather than a grouchy Oscar!
the ferry journey from Wellington to Picton on the South Island was apparently one of the roughest in years. this information comes to us courtesy of a very friendly but quite manic-crazy lady in the Subway in Kaikoura though, so perhaps should be taken with a pinch of salt. in the same conversation she asked us if we were planning on making babies on our trip, about 2 minutes after we had exchanged ‘hellos’, and then she followed with it with a shriek of “Myde in Nu Zeeland, hutched in Yoo Kay! Myde in Nu Zeeland, hutched in Yoo Kay!” and collapsed into giggles (please read aloud at the top of your voice to get the full effect!). so after the bumpy ferry ride, and the nail biting car drive, we were thrilled to arrive at Sunrise Lodge in Kaikoura, and even more pleased that they had availability. the friendly owners explained their only spare double bedroom had a broken heater, so they offered to cut us a deal on their studio unit which we gratefully accepted, and were soon settled in to the total luxury of a massive room with en suite bathroom, queen size bed, private kitchen unit, tv set, sofa and wi-fi, with a Subway next door!
we booked ourselves straight on to a whale watching tour for the next day, and then trotted down to the headland to spend some quality time picking over the rocks and staring at the slumbering seals. by this time the wind was still biting, but the sun was shining, and it was a real pleasure to sneak around and peek at these funny lazy looking creatures, with their strangely human mannerisms. the way they reach around to contemplatively scratch their bellies with a claw, or slowly lift their head to blink at you and yawn is utterly charming, even though you fully know that if you got between them and the water, or if they simply took a dislike to you, they have an impressive turn of speed and long sharp teeth and strong snapping jaws. we kept our distance, and got away with just some great photos!
the empty car park at the headland seemed as good a place as any to give myself a reminder driving lesson. it’s been 9 years since i’ve driven- i took my test at 20, but could never afford my own car as a student and haven’t ever needed to drive since living in London- and i have been pretty nervous at the prospect of getting behind the wheel again. however, within just a few seconds I was tootling off down the empty roads of Kaikoura happy as a pig in poop! the husband hasn’t been able to get me out from the driving seat since, though i think he is quite enjoying only having the responsibility of picking the soundtrack to our drives and the odd bit of map reading!
we took advantage of the private kitchen in our unit to make ourselves dinner, and had a lazy night in with a bottle of red and caught up on our emails. the following morning we woke up to a stunning blue sky with not a wisp or a hint of a cloud to be seen, and the snow tipped mountains that had been wreathed in greyness on our check in now formed a backdrop worthy of a film set. perfect whale watching weather! we caught our boat out from the South Bay, and despite warnings that the conditions may be a bit rough and cause sea-sickness we chose to sit at the front in the ‘roughest’ bit. perhaps naively, i thought growing up by the coast in Dorset, and spending many happy days on boats i would be fine, but the swell once we got started was pretty massive. my stomach was lurching into my throat after each wave, and the nausea started to kick in after about 20 minutes. thankfully, we got the sonar waves of a sperm whale pretty quickly, and the boat lumbered into position by the beast and shut off the engines. we got to watch this magnificent creature resting on the top of the waves for about 10 minutes, periodically spouting water every 15 seconds, and despite the swell lifting and dropping our boat dramatically all thoughts of sea-sickness were very far from our minds. it eventually breathed in and out a final time, stretched its body a little out of the waves and then slipped away in front of us, kicking its massive tail up and silently dropping away into the blackness. thrillingly, we heard the sonar for another 2 sperm whales during our trip and got to watch them dive too before we had to head back to shore. there was a brief promise of a blue whale on the way back, but unfortunately we arrived at the location it had been spotted a bit too late and this search proved fruitless. nonetheless it was a breathtaking few hours and difficult to comprehend how many of these massive creatures were swimming around in the deep below us, totally invisible to the human eye and just going around their daily business. i felt really honoured to be able to see these monoliths in their natural habitat, and only hope that they do not head the way of many other whales around the world and hit the endangered list.
we explored the Kaikoura area further in the afternoon, and enjoyed a New Zealand speciality called ‘pauwa’ (a shellfish akin to Abalone with a beautifully coloured shell, but a disconcertingly blueish-grey coloured chewy flesh- i must say, though i was pleased to try it, i remain to be blown away!) from a roadside BBQ stall and a delicious beer in the now roasting sunshine. we checked out a couple of viewpoints as the sun started to set, and headed back to our little studio as the evening chill set in for another cosy night in.
wednesday morning brought another longish drive as we headed in the direction of the world famous wine region of Blenheim, and our backpackers in the neighbouring town of Renwick. here we had vineyard plans, many serious vineyard plans, so on the way to Renwick we stopped off at the Montana vineyard to get warmed up and into the swing of things. i was a little unsure initially of how the wine tasting thing works, but with a friendly smile and ‘we’d like to try your wine please’ we found ourselves offered a selection of their best wines (too good to be exported to the UK!) and given a lesson about their history, and some tips on which wines to look out for next year once we are home.
once we had dropped our bags and checked in at our next stopover, a slightly twee but sweet spot called Watson’s Way, run by a couple of septegenerians (they may have crappy taste in interior furnishings and like having the lights switched off at 10pm, but they do have electric blankets which is a treat on these chilly nights!) we kept on the wine tasting trail.
we hit Mud House in the afternoon, a favourite brand of wine for both of us, where we bonded wonderfully with the lady at the cellar door. after initially saying that we could try one or two for free, but would have to pay for any more, we got her talking and ended up trying not just the 5 she had out on display, but another 3 extras of different vineyards and vintages to ensure we got a good comparison! in a grand finale, she pulled a little bottle out from under her desk, and said “Seeing as you are such fans of Mud House…”. she gave us a sample of a desert wine from 2006, a ‘Late Summer Riesling’ which is not available for sale, not available for tasting, but which they sometimes use in their restaurant and that she had managed to sneak away from the kitchen for the staff to taste. we felt really special, and it was utterly delicious. to the lovely Kathy in Mud House on Maxwell Street- we salute you!
getting in to the swing of things, we then walked to a little boutique vineyard near our hostel called ‘Te Whare Ra’. there we found a gorgeous, soppy hungarian vizla to play with, and were given another 9 wines to try. again none of these are currently exported to the UK, and all were a revelation. we even got to see behind the cellar door, into the room where the magic happens, and we learned all about the vineyard’s workings. it is such a small place that it is run entirely by 4 people, the owner and his wife (who was conducting the tasting, and explained that they met working in wines in Australia, but managed to escape the clutches of the wine giant Hardys to buy this, their own vineyard, 5 years ago) and 2 other permanent staff, and everything is made on site for relatively limited runs of their award winning boutique wines.
thursday, tomorrow, the weather is forecast to be sunny again and is a day we have dedicated even more fully to the wine tasting experience. we are hiring bikes so we can hit more vineyards without unwittingly drink driving, and doing it properly. god help us…. or god help the vineyards!
either way i can’t wait to continue my wine education, and maybe get a little tiddly along the way! i will report back as much as i can remember in the next blog!
Monday, 11 October 2010
from friends to ferries
it is just coming up to 7.30am and i am sitting in Grover at the Bluebird Ferry port, waiting to be loaded on to the Monte Stello. the wind is whipping around the car in a ferocious temper, tossing the remnants of last night’s storm clouds about the sky like they just threatened its first born, and splattering a light dusting of rain on our windshield. the Monte Stello is a fairly small ferry, entrusted with the job of transporting us over the Cook Strait, the short stretch of sea that splits New Zealand in two distinct halves, to the (now almost mythical) South Island. I have heard so much about this place, from so many people, all of it gushing and reverent, that I’m not quite sure what to expect upon our disembarking. at the very least I want to see elves and hobbits.
we’ve had a great couple of days staying with Jim and his lovely fiancée Vero, and after the relative hustle and bustle of Auckland, this country’s biggest city, it was fantastic to see a bit of what New Zealand is really all about. we got to the start of their road at 3.30 on Friday afternoon, in the knowledge that we had a bit of a way to go because their house number was 990. however we had underestimated, because unlike the massive streets you get in the UK or the USA the houses on Puketapu Road were not neatly stacked next to each other with little green front gardens and picket fences- they were randomly scattered with sometimes a couple of minutes drive between each house. it took us 30 minutes to get to their house from joining Puketapu Road, but then the road itself was beautiful, climbing up steadily through the green hills, past fields of cows and sheep and shiny coated horses, and gradually getting quieter and more peaceful as the suburbs around Napier dropped away behind us.
on arrival we swiftly got Grover a doctor’s appointment with the local AA man (he is all fixed now, his back tyres were too big and over-inflated), and had a cup of tea and a bit of a catch up. introductions were made, to Vero, Jim’s French fiancée who we had not met before, and Kiwi their massive, excitable and adorable 8 month old black Labrador. it was so lovely to be amongst friends, and Jim was so obviously proud of the land he now calls home it was a real thrill to be able to have him as a guide to the local area. we first went up to a viewpoint on the top of a mountain called Te Matu, Jim regaling us with charming old Maoiri legends about how the mountains were created on the drive up. from the top we could see all round, and other than a few small spread out towns in the very far distance on the edge of our vision the landscape was filled with the green of grass, trees and rolling hills, bordered by mountain ranges holding them all in and hugging them tight on one side, and the vastness of the sea on the other. the wind whistled round our ears, but other than that all we could hear was the faint bleating of sheep from the cliffsides below and the sound of emptiness. it was truly stunning.
after a quick spin through the visually intriguing art deco town of Napier, we spent a great evening in a charming vineyard not far from their house, called Crab Valley. the vineyard opens up its doors and serves food on summer weekend evenings, and the place had a massive roaring pitfire, chunky wooden tables, mismatched glasses and a relaxed haphazard manner that belied the tastiness of the food that they dished up. we ate well and heartily, and drank some lovely Cabernet Merlot Malbec (several bottles!) and caught up on some of what has passed in the years since Jim has been living on the other side of the world. as a consequence we had a slightly later start on Saturday morning, with Jim feeling the effects of the red wine worst of all of us! nonetheless, a walk was deemed the best plan to clear the head and we headed out to a deserted spot in a ‘Mainland Island’ which is confusingly a protected nature reserve, and not an island at all.
an hour or so steady walk up the side of the mountain, through narrow winding paths dappled with sunlight through the overhanging trees and dotted with curling ferns at our feet, and fragrant Manuka bushes to our side, took us to the most spectacular sight. as we neared the end of the trail Jim and Vero both insisted that we keep our eyes down and on the path. as we approached I started to feel a cool, damp mist swirling around us, nipping at my bare arms and landing on my cheeks. only at the last minute did they give us permission to look up and we were greeted by a mass of shimmering colours, as a river thundered over a 50 metre drop into a dark green pool at our feet. it is called Shine Falls, and it was truly breathtaking. I’ve seen many a waterfall over the years, and indeed visited Victoria Falls less than 2 years ago, but this one really left me stumped for words. i think it felt so special because we were the only 4 people there, we had not seen or heard any human noises other than our own since we had started on the trail, and it seemed strangely like this beautiful instance of nature, tripping water shining in the sunlight, miniature rainbows flickering for a second and disappearing only to instantly jump up elsewhere on the rock face, tiny droplets touching and cooling us in the breeze, was there somehow just for us.
we felt hangover free and fully invigorated on the trot back down the hillside- i had to stop myself from skipping and jumping over the tree roots and occasional puddles- and on the drive home we even stopped off at the local Moana vineyard for a brief education in the Hawkes Bay variations of grape. i can report that they are all very delicious! it didn’t take much for me to persuade the husband to open his wallet and take a bottle of their Tribute ‘Ice Wine’, a rich, sticky desert wine, which we have plans to drink somewhere on a secluded beach in the South Island. Vero, being French, is of the opinion that it is only right to drink the Ice Wine with a suitable accompaniment, and as soon as we got back to the house she appeared with a little tin of foie gras as a gift for us to take away. it is one of my favourite things, and given that i know it is not exactly the easiest thing to get hold of in New Zealand and had been imported from France I know it is doubly precious, and her generosity really overwhelmed me. we have been met by nothing but kindness and people going out of their way to give us an amazing time since we started this trip, and it is really rather humbling to be treated so well. it will do little to our ‘real traveller’ street cred if we are spotted with a tin of foie gras and a bottle of desert wine in the boot of our car, but i think that is a risk worth taking, and we are just going to have to make sure we devour them both pretty soon to reduce the danger of it!!
saturday was party night, and Jim and Vero had a dozen or so of their friends over for beers and venison curry to celebrate the new job Jim has accepted and commiserate that they will as a consequence be moving a little further up north to the Bay of Plenty very shortly. it was a brilliant evening, and felt authentic in every sense of the word- the venison was shot by one of the guys at the table on a hunting trip with Jim; the room was filled with all nationalities from Finnish and French, Scottish and English and Kiwi; the beer flowed freely as did the chatter, and everyone was so relaxed and genuine and open that it felt almost like the room was filled with friends of ours rather than relative strangers.
sunday came all too quickly, and after a few hours sleep and some delicious croissants and homemade organic manuka honey we bid our farewells to Jim and Vero (who we will most likely not see until their wedding in Spring next year) and hit the road to Wellington. we only had the afternoon to spend in New Zealand’s capital, but we made the most of it and as soon as we had reached our hostel, Downtown Backpackers, and checked in and dumped our bags we headed straight out again to the Te Papa museum. a stunning modern building that is almost equivalent to the Tate Modern in London in scale and feel, and an icon to New Zealanders, it was only a shame that we had so little time to explore its 6 floors. we did our best to hurry round the floor about New Zealand’s history, but with only an hour to spend we left a shocking amount untouched.
we sauntered back to the hostel through the back streets as dusk started to kick in, looking for some atmosphere or some people, but found everywhere eerily empty. we couldn’t work out if it was because it was quite a chilly, windy sunday evening, or just because Kiwi’s prefer to spend their weekend’s out of town, but there was barely a soul to be seen. as ex-Londoner’s the husband and i found this a little difficult to get our head around- we didn’t even have to look when we crossed the main dual carriageway because there were no cars to be seen, and this is the capital city! it was quite strange, and a reminder again of the difference between the New Zealand culture and our own. after a quick wash and brush up at the hostel we went back out into the now even emptier streets and headed to a restaurant that had been recommended first by my parents, who visited a year or so ago, and then confirmed as one of Wellington’s best eateries by those in the know at Jim and Vero’s leaving party. Tinakori Bistro was a bit of a hike, and as we climbed up through the deserted darkening streets we started to worry we were going to end up as the only customers in an empty restaurant, or worse still that it wouldn’t even be open. but as we neared the bistro, we thankfully saw that it was ablaze with lights, and bustling and busy. almost every table was taken (we followed in a family, and we took the last two tables) and the mystery of where all the Wellingtonians were was solved- apparently in Tinakori! 3 courses, a lovely bottle of New Zealand Riesling and a swift taxi back to avoid the unforgiving rain storm that started during pudding, and we were back at Downtown Backpackers. i could barely keep my eyes open, and was in bed and asleep at a shockingly respectable hour, unable to even take advantage of the luxury of having a tv in our room, with the alarm set for 6.25am so we could be checked out and at the port bright and early.
which brings us up to Bluebird ferry port and 7.30am.
so, bring on the South Island, the hobbits and elves….
we’ve had a great couple of days staying with Jim and his lovely fiancée Vero, and after the relative hustle and bustle of Auckland, this country’s biggest city, it was fantastic to see a bit of what New Zealand is really all about. we got to the start of their road at 3.30 on Friday afternoon, in the knowledge that we had a bit of a way to go because their house number was 990. however we had underestimated, because unlike the massive streets you get in the UK or the USA the houses on Puketapu Road were not neatly stacked next to each other with little green front gardens and picket fences- they were randomly scattered with sometimes a couple of minutes drive between each house. it took us 30 minutes to get to their house from joining Puketapu Road, but then the road itself was beautiful, climbing up steadily through the green hills, past fields of cows and sheep and shiny coated horses, and gradually getting quieter and more peaceful as the suburbs around Napier dropped away behind us.
on arrival we swiftly got Grover a doctor’s appointment with the local AA man (he is all fixed now, his back tyres were too big and over-inflated), and had a cup of tea and a bit of a catch up. introductions were made, to Vero, Jim’s French fiancée who we had not met before, and Kiwi their massive, excitable and adorable 8 month old black Labrador. it was so lovely to be amongst friends, and Jim was so obviously proud of the land he now calls home it was a real thrill to be able to have him as a guide to the local area. we first went up to a viewpoint on the top of a mountain called Te Matu, Jim regaling us with charming old Maoiri legends about how the mountains were created on the drive up. from the top we could see all round, and other than a few small spread out towns in the very far distance on the edge of our vision the landscape was filled with the green of grass, trees and rolling hills, bordered by mountain ranges holding them all in and hugging them tight on one side, and the vastness of the sea on the other. the wind whistled round our ears, but other than that all we could hear was the faint bleating of sheep from the cliffsides below and the sound of emptiness. it was truly stunning.
after a quick spin through the visually intriguing art deco town of Napier, we spent a great evening in a charming vineyard not far from their house, called Crab Valley. the vineyard opens up its doors and serves food on summer weekend evenings, and the place had a massive roaring pitfire, chunky wooden tables, mismatched glasses and a relaxed haphazard manner that belied the tastiness of the food that they dished up. we ate well and heartily, and drank some lovely Cabernet Merlot Malbec (several bottles!) and caught up on some of what has passed in the years since Jim has been living on the other side of the world. as a consequence we had a slightly later start on Saturday morning, with Jim feeling the effects of the red wine worst of all of us! nonetheless, a walk was deemed the best plan to clear the head and we headed out to a deserted spot in a ‘Mainland Island’ which is confusingly a protected nature reserve, and not an island at all.
an hour or so steady walk up the side of the mountain, through narrow winding paths dappled with sunlight through the overhanging trees and dotted with curling ferns at our feet, and fragrant Manuka bushes to our side, took us to the most spectacular sight. as we neared the end of the trail Jim and Vero both insisted that we keep our eyes down and on the path. as we approached I started to feel a cool, damp mist swirling around us, nipping at my bare arms and landing on my cheeks. only at the last minute did they give us permission to look up and we were greeted by a mass of shimmering colours, as a river thundered over a 50 metre drop into a dark green pool at our feet. it is called Shine Falls, and it was truly breathtaking. I’ve seen many a waterfall over the years, and indeed visited Victoria Falls less than 2 years ago, but this one really left me stumped for words. i think it felt so special because we were the only 4 people there, we had not seen or heard any human noises other than our own since we had started on the trail, and it seemed strangely like this beautiful instance of nature, tripping water shining in the sunlight, miniature rainbows flickering for a second and disappearing only to instantly jump up elsewhere on the rock face, tiny droplets touching and cooling us in the breeze, was there somehow just for us.
we felt hangover free and fully invigorated on the trot back down the hillside- i had to stop myself from skipping and jumping over the tree roots and occasional puddles- and on the drive home we even stopped off at the local Moana vineyard for a brief education in the Hawkes Bay variations of grape. i can report that they are all very delicious! it didn’t take much for me to persuade the husband to open his wallet and take a bottle of their Tribute ‘Ice Wine’, a rich, sticky desert wine, which we have plans to drink somewhere on a secluded beach in the South Island. Vero, being French, is of the opinion that it is only right to drink the Ice Wine with a suitable accompaniment, and as soon as we got back to the house she appeared with a little tin of foie gras as a gift for us to take away. it is one of my favourite things, and given that i know it is not exactly the easiest thing to get hold of in New Zealand and had been imported from France I know it is doubly precious, and her generosity really overwhelmed me. we have been met by nothing but kindness and people going out of their way to give us an amazing time since we started this trip, and it is really rather humbling to be treated so well. it will do little to our ‘real traveller’ street cred if we are spotted with a tin of foie gras and a bottle of desert wine in the boot of our car, but i think that is a risk worth taking, and we are just going to have to make sure we devour them both pretty soon to reduce the danger of it!!
saturday was party night, and Jim and Vero had a dozen or so of their friends over for beers and venison curry to celebrate the new job Jim has accepted and commiserate that they will as a consequence be moving a little further up north to the Bay of Plenty very shortly. it was a brilliant evening, and felt authentic in every sense of the word- the venison was shot by one of the guys at the table on a hunting trip with Jim; the room was filled with all nationalities from Finnish and French, Scottish and English and Kiwi; the beer flowed freely as did the chatter, and everyone was so relaxed and genuine and open that it felt almost like the room was filled with friends of ours rather than relative strangers.
sunday came all too quickly, and after a few hours sleep and some delicious croissants and homemade organic manuka honey we bid our farewells to Jim and Vero (who we will most likely not see until their wedding in Spring next year) and hit the road to Wellington. we only had the afternoon to spend in New Zealand’s capital, but we made the most of it and as soon as we had reached our hostel, Downtown Backpackers, and checked in and dumped our bags we headed straight out again to the Te Papa museum. a stunning modern building that is almost equivalent to the Tate Modern in London in scale and feel, and an icon to New Zealanders, it was only a shame that we had so little time to explore its 6 floors. we did our best to hurry round the floor about New Zealand’s history, but with only an hour to spend we left a shocking amount untouched.
we sauntered back to the hostel through the back streets as dusk started to kick in, looking for some atmosphere or some people, but found everywhere eerily empty. we couldn’t work out if it was because it was quite a chilly, windy sunday evening, or just because Kiwi’s prefer to spend their weekend’s out of town, but there was barely a soul to be seen. as ex-Londoner’s the husband and i found this a little difficult to get our head around- we didn’t even have to look when we crossed the main dual carriageway because there were no cars to be seen, and this is the capital city! it was quite strange, and a reminder again of the difference between the New Zealand culture and our own. after a quick wash and brush up at the hostel we went back out into the now even emptier streets and headed to a restaurant that had been recommended first by my parents, who visited a year or so ago, and then confirmed as one of Wellington’s best eateries by those in the know at Jim and Vero’s leaving party. Tinakori Bistro was a bit of a hike, and as we climbed up through the deserted darkening streets we started to worry we were going to end up as the only customers in an empty restaurant, or worse still that it wouldn’t even be open. but as we neared the bistro, we thankfully saw that it was ablaze with lights, and bustling and busy. almost every table was taken (we followed in a family, and we took the last two tables) and the mystery of where all the Wellingtonians were was solved- apparently in Tinakori! 3 courses, a lovely bottle of New Zealand Riesling and a swift taxi back to avoid the unforgiving rain storm that started during pudding, and we were back at Downtown Backpackers. i could barely keep my eyes open, and was in bed and asleep at a shockingly respectable hour, unable to even take advantage of the luxury of having a tv in our room, with the alarm set for 6.25am so we could be checked out and at the port bright and early.
which brings us up to Bluebird ferry port and 7.30am.
so, bring on the South Island, the hobbits and elves….
Friday, 8 October 2010
hello (and goodbye) to Hollywood, NZ calling and Grover joins our gang!
so, although it has only been a few days since the last entry it seems like now we are finally on ‘the trip’, and an awful lot has happened in a short period of time. if you readers are to get all the details of what we have been up to i fear i will need to be blogging every couple of days, and if i run out of time to do this then apologies for any gaps in the timeline. i’ll do my best to keep this making sense, and you’ll have to bear with me if there is the odd jump in time and location! think of it rather like falling asleep for a few minutes in the middle of a movie (which i did for all 3 movies i watched on the plane from LA to Auckland)- though it’s a bit irritating and confusing, you’ll soon get the gist of what has happened in the interim, and will be caught up with yourself in no time at all. this time however, i have several hours of a car journey to fill, so will aim to get in almost every gory detail of the past week.
when i last blogged we were just about to head out into big bad Hollywood, and it was raining in LA. and, i can report, though it continued to rain for most of the day, its not that big but it is quite bad!
we did the requisite stroll down the walk of stars, getting excited about seeing Bing Crosby’s stars (he had 3 separate stars I swear!), Elton John’s star, Joan Collin’s star, and also the ones belonging to Godzilla and The Munchkins. we put our feet and hands in the wet puddles of John Wayne’s, Russell Crowe’s and Matt Damon’s footprints outside the Chinese Theatre ( fyi, famous people all seem to have very small feet, apart from Matt Damon, whose feet are massive!), and we parked our car in the lot beneath the Kodak Theatre (home of the Academy Awards). the whole experience was fun, but as suspected totally tacky, and we felt like we had the whole thing done and dusted in about 15 minutes. there was a brief hiatus, when we stumbled across Kitt, the Knightrider car, in amongst a display of tv and film cop cars that had sprung up around us and closed the street, but after that we hurried back to Jennifer’s dry 4x4 and headed off to continue our adventure.
we drove up through various suburban backstreets in an attempt to get close to the Hollywood sign, but the rain and clouds were so bad that it was impossible to even see a hint of the infamous sign on the hill. when we got to the top we found that our plans were thwarted anyway, because the walkway we had planned on heading through was all padlocked, and we later heard that the rain had been so heavy that there had possibly been some land slip and the hill was too dangerous to be walking on anyway. i expected to be very disappointed, but actually i felt totally fine about missing it- the earlier exploits in Hollywood had left me feeling cold (both literally and metaphorically!) and i realised that, as everyone says, the whole Hollywood experience is pretty superficial anyway, and not anything to get worked up over.
we then proceeded on to what we decided must have been the cheapest ever trip to Rodeo Drive. we did plentiful gawking through the shop windows from the rainy sidewalk outside, but didn’t dare put a toe of our soggy bodies through any of their ultra-glam doorways, and we didn’t even have to pay for parking because someone had left 30 minutes in the meter, so all in all a bargain of a trip.
Jennifer saved the day by insisting on taking us Downtown, which is inhabited by a large proportion of the city’s massive Mexican population. she took us to this old cobbled pedestrian roadway called Olvera Street, which is purportedly the oldest street in Los Angeles. there, whilst we were surrounded by the bright primary colours of the Mexican bric-a-brac on the street stalls, and the lurid plasticky fake flowers, the grey, heavy, laden skies somehow seemed less apparent and oppressive. we were taken to a rather lovely and quaint little taverna draped in vines which had a small sign reporting that it was the oldest brick building in Los Angeles, and margheritas were ordered all round. after re-fuelling on a platter of Mexican deliciousness (‘tacitos’, ‘sopas’, ‘quesadillas’, and an unidentified pork product which was a little bit like meaty crackling- all were deep fried, and all either smothered in cheese, sour cream or guacamole. all were devoured!), we crossed over the street to a local mission. this is just the name for the churches that were built by the missionaries to convert the Mexicans to catholicism, but the feel of them is totally different to a European catholic church. it was much plainer overall, and quite dark and narrow, but felt busier (even though we only popped our nose in during the middle of the afternoon, and there was no service happening, there were at least 10 or 12 patrons, all Mexican, peacefully dotted around the church.) and was obviously a hub for the local community. there was a large walled courtyard outside the mission building, containing a small stall selling refreshments and a ‘church shop’ for all your most important of church shopping needs- candles, sacrificial plastic flowers, crosses and statues of Mary i imagine- and the air was filled with the sounds of a Mexican pop tune blaring out of a fuzzy radio or cassette player hidden somewhere. it was all quite jolly, unlike the often sombre feel of catholic churches i’ve been to before, and i felt that if i was religious it would be a nice place to go and worship with my community.
we headed out of Downtown, over the superhighways and tangle of flyovers and through rush hour traffic (also an LA institution from what I understand!), and back to Hermosa Beach in time to scoop up our belongings, share a final glass of pinot and dinner with the family, before shuttling back to LAX. the next leg of the trip faced us- New Zealand- and though i was sad to be bidding farewell to the husband’s extended family (and by association mine now, i guess) who had been so welcoming, so warm and so much fun, it was exciting to be striking out on our own and it felt like only once we landed in Auckland were we able to become the true travellers we have been aspiring to be for so long.
we left LA on monday night, and landed in Auckland on wednesday morning. it was a very long and bumpy flight, and by the time we had negotiated our way out of the airport and on to a bus and walked the 15 minutes to our hostel with all of our bags, my body clock was so screwed i couldn’t really tell you which way was up or down let alone what time of day it was. we checked in to our room at the tiny ‘City Groove Backpackers’ in the university district, and i was thrilled to find that the past few years of staying in luxury and boutique hotels around the world has not totally beaten the backpacker out of me.
we were greeted by a fairly small room, with a faded duvet cover and mismatched stringy towels, a view of a wall, one or two lazily floating midges and a pretty strong musty and damp smell (if a smell can be musty and damp at the same time? this definitely was!). my private fear before we started this big adventure of ours was that i would find this kind of thing difficult to deal with. i’ve stayed in plenty of hostels before in my younger days, and been unfazed by the odd stained sheet, a cobweb or two in the corners of the ceilings and a carpet peeling up from the floor. but since my last big trip, aged 21, i’ve been rather spoiling myself on the holiday accommodation front. when you only have 1 or 2 weeks in the year to go away it seems only right to spend a bit of cash and stay somewhere lovely. i hope it doesn’t sound like bragging if i say that i’ve been to, amongst others, amazing 5 star lodges in Lombok, Livingstone and South Luangwa, stayed in beautiful boutique B&Bs in Bath, Didsbury and Padstow, and discovered a stunning little bolt hole in Granada. of course, there has been the odd shit-hole amongst the gems since i grew up and started holidaying rather than travelling! i’ve been working in TV for the past 7 years- the money isn’t good enough to always splash out! i remember clearly being too scared to turn the lights off in a hostel in Maputo in Mozambique because the cockroaches were so large and running up the walls next to my bunk bed. i’ve spent too long laying in a dormitory in Amsterdam desperate to fall asleep, but convinced that some drug crazed fellow ‘roomy’ was going to steal my bags. and in a homestay in Andalucia the bed was so uncomfortable and the mattress so thin, that i’ve actually removed it to sleep on the floor just to escape the pricking springs in my back.
nonetheless, it has been a while, and after a very extravagant honeymoon 18 months ago i worried that my standards would be such that our plans to budget backpack around New Zealand would be foiled, as at the first stop i would lose all self control and find myself unable to stop from throwing a spoilt strop and demanding a hotel, a bell hop to carry my bags and tiny little free soaps i could steal from the bathroom (i love doing this- i might splash out on smart hotels, but i’m still pikey enough to pocket the toiletries!) . but, no, though the room was anything but lovely, it didn’t bother me. rather like missing the Hollywood sign, i was expecting more of a reaction. as it was, the dampness and musty smell came from a teeny wet room behind a sliding door, so was actually well worth putting up with. the benefit of having an en suite bathroom that i wasn’t expecting far outweighed the room smelling a bit odd and housing a few lazy flies.
so, we showered and fighting the urge to crash and sleep we headed out to see what Auckland had to offer our jetlagged brains.and bodies. first stop was some food, for which we nipped into a hidden away asian food court that the husband remembered from a previous trip. having fed ourselves grandly and very cheaply on a delicious bento box from a Japanese stall we wandered down to the marina, and then up through the city centre to the Sky Tower, the highest structure in the southern hemisphere. we paid to go up to the viewing platform and spent a very enjoyable hour or so doing loops and taking in the view and then trying to pinpoint our hostel. after a prolonged discussion, in which the husband confirmed that women do indeed lack the necessary chromosome to understand perspective from a height (even with him repeatedly pointing and explaining i could not grasp where we had come from, and which park our hostel was hidden behind!) we headed on a scenic route back to the hostel, gathered our thoughts and a few minutes of shut eye and then back out to dinner. looking for cheap and easy comfort food we were thrilled to stumble across a pizza place called ‘La Porchetta’. just like our London favourite it was great value for money, the staff were friendly, and we got happily sloshed on a bottle of the house red. it felt wonderfully comforting to be somewhere so familiar, and despite the apparent jetlag we were still the last people out of the restaurant, as we so often were at the one we frequented in N4.
we woke up bright and early the following morning, feeling refreshed and ready for a challenge. we headed down to the marina again, picking up breakfast along the way, and caught a ferry out to a small island 30 minutes away from the Auckland city centre called Rangitoto. this was formed 700-800 years ago by an erupting volcano, and is now covered in greenery, pretty much totally un-populated (the guide book said there were 74 residents, but we saw no signs of habitation at all) and offers fantastic views of Auckland from it’s summit. the summit however is a pretty hardcore 1 hour climb from where the boat docks. we headed straight off, and initially found ourselves at the lead of the group of people who had been on the boat with us. thrilled at our athleticism we marched steadily on, but as the going got steeper we were swiftly lapped by more competent walkers, then younger and more enthusiastic teenagers, and shortly after middle aged couples, children and a pair of young girls, one in flimsy thong sandals the other in ankle high ugg boots. they carried handbags, listened to a shared i-pod, and were laughing and chatting as we sweated and struggled our way up the steep incline over the tumbling black volcanic rocks. we started to seriously doubt ourselves. thankfully, in the last 15 minutes before the top we found ourselves overtaking most of the overtakers, but the 2 inappropriately shod girls remained in front of us and a perplexing and irritating mystery. we decided they must either have been swiss or austrian and therefore used to the mountainous terrain- to them the ascent must have been akin to a walk in the park, because they certainly didn’t look like it was any effort! the views from the summit were stunning, and well worth the sweat, and indeed it was really good just to get some fresh air and exercise after so much time in the previous week spent cooped up in planes. after a much less tiring descent, and a walk through some lava caves we were pleased to hop back on the ferry, and back to the hostel.
on our return to City Groove, we found a man waiting to collect us and take us to collect the hire car we had booked the previous day. and so we were introduced to Grover.
our hire car is small, green and very dirty. as such, i decided that Grover was an appropriate name, after the character in Sesame Street that lived in a bin. Grover however, is a very miserable individual, constantly griping and complaining and whining about everything. it seemed that only time would tell as to whether this aspect of Grover’s personality suited our car also…..
we had a quiet final evening in Auckland, eating well in a steak restaurant, and falling asleep early after the rigours of Rangitoto. this morning we rose early, and checked out of the hostel at 7.45am and hit the road straight away to get to our next destination, Napier, home of a great old friend of mine from Dorset, Jim, who we are spending the weekend with.
once on the road with Grover i learned several things very quickly:
- it is as green and lush and empty as everyone says. and we are still in the North Island- it apparently only gets quiet when you go to the South Island!
- there is actually a surprisingly high ratio of cows to sheep, unlike the rumours there is as much cattle farming as sheep farming. and a similar number of dead squashed possums in the road.
- some kiwis have a great love of corrugated iron. we drove past a massive warehouse that had a sign declaring it the premier corrugated iron sculpture emporium in New Zealand. we then drove through a village full of corrugated iron sculptures, signs, buildings, etc. i have a photo of a building in the shape of a dog, made of corrugated iron. genius.
- the kiwi road signs are the best and wittiest i have ever seen. i’m not sure if they intend them that way, but i have actually laughed out loud at some road signs today. my personal favourite commands the driver to ‘Merge. Like a zip.’… there is then an illustration of a zip. just in case there are some kiwi’s who have never come across a zip before, and all their clothes are fastened with just buttons or velcro.
- Rotarua, home of the bubbling volcanic mud, does indeed smell of eggs, and is not worth hanging around long in. we stopped as we passed through just long enough to take a couple of pictures, and then left pretty sharpish before the permeating smell made us sick. it may be the most popular tourist spot in the North Island, but it did not hold a massive appeal for me i’m afraid. methane doesn’t do it for me.
- Grover was a worthy name. our car has some slightly fucked up suspension issues, and every time we go over the vaguest bump in the road we hear a noise akin to nails being run down a blackboard. he does indeed gripe and whine at the slightest thing! and when we moved all the bags around to try and sort it out, the boot smacked me in the head, as if to add insult to injury! we are going to call the AA on arrival at Jim’s house, and hope they can get it sorted before we have to head down to Wellington on Sunday.
that brings us up to present time and day. i’ve been typing and catching up with myself on the laptop as the husband drives, and i’m hoping to be able to download this blog when we arrive at Jim’s house, which is nearing rapidly. and hopefully, the photos at the top of the blog will be updated too, to show the first week of our travels. well done for reading to the end- it’s been a bit epic, but then it’s been a bit of an epic week!
when i last blogged we were just about to head out into big bad Hollywood, and it was raining in LA. and, i can report, though it continued to rain for most of the day, its not that big but it is quite bad!
we did the requisite stroll down the walk of stars, getting excited about seeing Bing Crosby’s stars (he had 3 separate stars I swear!), Elton John’s star, Joan Collin’s star, and also the ones belonging to Godzilla and The Munchkins. we put our feet and hands in the wet puddles of John Wayne’s, Russell Crowe’s and Matt Damon’s footprints outside the Chinese Theatre ( fyi, famous people all seem to have very small feet, apart from Matt Damon, whose feet are massive!), and we parked our car in the lot beneath the Kodak Theatre (home of the Academy Awards). the whole experience was fun, but as suspected totally tacky, and we felt like we had the whole thing done and dusted in about 15 minutes. there was a brief hiatus, when we stumbled across Kitt, the Knightrider car, in amongst a display of tv and film cop cars that had sprung up around us and closed the street, but after that we hurried back to Jennifer’s dry 4x4 and headed off to continue our adventure.
we drove up through various suburban backstreets in an attempt to get close to the Hollywood sign, but the rain and clouds were so bad that it was impossible to even see a hint of the infamous sign on the hill. when we got to the top we found that our plans were thwarted anyway, because the walkway we had planned on heading through was all padlocked, and we later heard that the rain had been so heavy that there had possibly been some land slip and the hill was too dangerous to be walking on anyway. i expected to be very disappointed, but actually i felt totally fine about missing it- the earlier exploits in Hollywood had left me feeling cold (both literally and metaphorically!) and i realised that, as everyone says, the whole Hollywood experience is pretty superficial anyway, and not anything to get worked up over.
we then proceeded on to what we decided must have been the cheapest ever trip to Rodeo Drive. we did plentiful gawking through the shop windows from the rainy sidewalk outside, but didn’t dare put a toe of our soggy bodies through any of their ultra-glam doorways, and we didn’t even have to pay for parking because someone had left 30 minutes in the meter, so all in all a bargain of a trip.
Jennifer saved the day by insisting on taking us Downtown, which is inhabited by a large proportion of the city’s massive Mexican population. she took us to this old cobbled pedestrian roadway called Olvera Street, which is purportedly the oldest street in Los Angeles. there, whilst we were surrounded by the bright primary colours of the Mexican bric-a-brac on the street stalls, and the lurid plasticky fake flowers, the grey, heavy, laden skies somehow seemed less apparent and oppressive. we were taken to a rather lovely and quaint little taverna draped in vines which had a small sign reporting that it was the oldest brick building in Los Angeles, and margheritas were ordered all round. after re-fuelling on a platter of Mexican deliciousness (‘tacitos’, ‘sopas’, ‘quesadillas’, and an unidentified pork product which was a little bit like meaty crackling- all were deep fried, and all either smothered in cheese, sour cream or guacamole. all were devoured!), we crossed over the street to a local mission. this is just the name for the churches that were built by the missionaries to convert the Mexicans to catholicism, but the feel of them is totally different to a European catholic church. it was much plainer overall, and quite dark and narrow, but felt busier (even though we only popped our nose in during the middle of the afternoon, and there was no service happening, there were at least 10 or 12 patrons, all Mexican, peacefully dotted around the church.) and was obviously a hub for the local community. there was a large walled courtyard outside the mission building, containing a small stall selling refreshments and a ‘church shop’ for all your most important of church shopping needs- candles, sacrificial plastic flowers, crosses and statues of Mary i imagine- and the air was filled with the sounds of a Mexican pop tune blaring out of a fuzzy radio or cassette player hidden somewhere. it was all quite jolly, unlike the often sombre feel of catholic churches i’ve been to before, and i felt that if i was religious it would be a nice place to go and worship with my community.
we headed out of Downtown, over the superhighways and tangle of flyovers and through rush hour traffic (also an LA institution from what I understand!), and back to Hermosa Beach in time to scoop up our belongings, share a final glass of pinot and dinner with the family, before shuttling back to LAX. the next leg of the trip faced us- New Zealand- and though i was sad to be bidding farewell to the husband’s extended family (and by association mine now, i guess) who had been so welcoming, so warm and so much fun, it was exciting to be striking out on our own and it felt like only once we landed in Auckland were we able to become the true travellers we have been aspiring to be for so long.
we left LA on monday night, and landed in Auckland on wednesday morning. it was a very long and bumpy flight, and by the time we had negotiated our way out of the airport and on to a bus and walked the 15 minutes to our hostel with all of our bags, my body clock was so screwed i couldn’t really tell you which way was up or down let alone what time of day it was. we checked in to our room at the tiny ‘City Groove Backpackers’ in the university district, and i was thrilled to find that the past few years of staying in luxury and boutique hotels around the world has not totally beaten the backpacker out of me.
we were greeted by a fairly small room, with a faded duvet cover and mismatched stringy towels, a view of a wall, one or two lazily floating midges and a pretty strong musty and damp smell (if a smell can be musty and damp at the same time? this definitely was!). my private fear before we started this big adventure of ours was that i would find this kind of thing difficult to deal with. i’ve stayed in plenty of hostels before in my younger days, and been unfazed by the odd stained sheet, a cobweb or two in the corners of the ceilings and a carpet peeling up from the floor. but since my last big trip, aged 21, i’ve been rather spoiling myself on the holiday accommodation front. when you only have 1 or 2 weeks in the year to go away it seems only right to spend a bit of cash and stay somewhere lovely. i hope it doesn’t sound like bragging if i say that i’ve been to, amongst others, amazing 5 star lodges in Lombok, Livingstone and South Luangwa, stayed in beautiful boutique B&Bs in Bath, Didsbury and Padstow, and discovered a stunning little bolt hole in Granada. of course, there has been the odd shit-hole amongst the gems since i grew up and started holidaying rather than travelling! i’ve been working in TV for the past 7 years- the money isn’t good enough to always splash out! i remember clearly being too scared to turn the lights off in a hostel in Maputo in Mozambique because the cockroaches were so large and running up the walls next to my bunk bed. i’ve spent too long laying in a dormitory in Amsterdam desperate to fall asleep, but convinced that some drug crazed fellow ‘roomy’ was going to steal my bags. and in a homestay in Andalucia the bed was so uncomfortable and the mattress so thin, that i’ve actually removed it to sleep on the floor just to escape the pricking springs in my back.
nonetheless, it has been a while, and after a very extravagant honeymoon 18 months ago i worried that my standards would be such that our plans to budget backpack around New Zealand would be foiled, as at the first stop i would lose all self control and find myself unable to stop from throwing a spoilt strop and demanding a hotel, a bell hop to carry my bags and tiny little free soaps i could steal from the bathroom (i love doing this- i might splash out on smart hotels, but i’m still pikey enough to pocket the toiletries!) . but, no, though the room was anything but lovely, it didn’t bother me. rather like missing the Hollywood sign, i was expecting more of a reaction. as it was, the dampness and musty smell came from a teeny wet room behind a sliding door, so was actually well worth putting up with. the benefit of having an en suite bathroom that i wasn’t expecting far outweighed the room smelling a bit odd and housing a few lazy flies.
so, we showered and fighting the urge to crash and sleep we headed out to see what Auckland had to offer our jetlagged brains.and bodies. first stop was some food, for which we nipped into a hidden away asian food court that the husband remembered from a previous trip. having fed ourselves grandly and very cheaply on a delicious bento box from a Japanese stall we wandered down to the marina, and then up through the city centre to the Sky Tower, the highest structure in the southern hemisphere. we paid to go up to the viewing platform and spent a very enjoyable hour or so doing loops and taking in the view and then trying to pinpoint our hostel. after a prolonged discussion, in which the husband confirmed that women do indeed lack the necessary chromosome to understand perspective from a height (even with him repeatedly pointing and explaining i could not grasp where we had come from, and which park our hostel was hidden behind!) we headed on a scenic route back to the hostel, gathered our thoughts and a few minutes of shut eye and then back out to dinner. looking for cheap and easy comfort food we were thrilled to stumble across a pizza place called ‘La Porchetta’. just like our London favourite it was great value for money, the staff were friendly, and we got happily sloshed on a bottle of the house red. it felt wonderfully comforting to be somewhere so familiar, and despite the apparent jetlag we were still the last people out of the restaurant, as we so often were at the one we frequented in N4.
we woke up bright and early the following morning, feeling refreshed and ready for a challenge. we headed down to the marina again, picking up breakfast along the way, and caught a ferry out to a small island 30 minutes away from the Auckland city centre called Rangitoto. this was formed 700-800 years ago by an erupting volcano, and is now covered in greenery, pretty much totally un-populated (the guide book said there were 74 residents, but we saw no signs of habitation at all) and offers fantastic views of Auckland from it’s summit. the summit however is a pretty hardcore 1 hour climb from where the boat docks. we headed straight off, and initially found ourselves at the lead of the group of people who had been on the boat with us. thrilled at our athleticism we marched steadily on, but as the going got steeper we were swiftly lapped by more competent walkers, then younger and more enthusiastic teenagers, and shortly after middle aged couples, children and a pair of young girls, one in flimsy thong sandals the other in ankle high ugg boots. they carried handbags, listened to a shared i-pod, and were laughing and chatting as we sweated and struggled our way up the steep incline over the tumbling black volcanic rocks. we started to seriously doubt ourselves. thankfully, in the last 15 minutes before the top we found ourselves overtaking most of the overtakers, but the 2 inappropriately shod girls remained in front of us and a perplexing and irritating mystery. we decided they must either have been swiss or austrian and therefore used to the mountainous terrain- to them the ascent must have been akin to a walk in the park, because they certainly didn’t look like it was any effort! the views from the summit were stunning, and well worth the sweat, and indeed it was really good just to get some fresh air and exercise after so much time in the previous week spent cooped up in planes. after a much less tiring descent, and a walk through some lava caves we were pleased to hop back on the ferry, and back to the hostel.
on our return to City Groove, we found a man waiting to collect us and take us to collect the hire car we had booked the previous day. and so we were introduced to Grover.
our hire car is small, green and very dirty. as such, i decided that Grover was an appropriate name, after the character in Sesame Street that lived in a bin. Grover however, is a very miserable individual, constantly griping and complaining and whining about everything. it seemed that only time would tell as to whether this aspect of Grover’s personality suited our car also…..
we had a quiet final evening in Auckland, eating well in a steak restaurant, and falling asleep early after the rigours of Rangitoto. this morning we rose early, and checked out of the hostel at 7.45am and hit the road straight away to get to our next destination, Napier, home of a great old friend of mine from Dorset, Jim, who we are spending the weekend with.
once on the road with Grover i learned several things very quickly:
- it is as green and lush and empty as everyone says. and we are still in the North Island- it apparently only gets quiet when you go to the South Island!
- there is actually a surprisingly high ratio of cows to sheep, unlike the rumours there is as much cattle farming as sheep farming. and a similar number of dead squashed possums in the road.
- some kiwis have a great love of corrugated iron. we drove past a massive warehouse that had a sign declaring it the premier corrugated iron sculpture emporium in New Zealand. we then drove through a village full of corrugated iron sculptures, signs, buildings, etc. i have a photo of a building in the shape of a dog, made of corrugated iron. genius.
- the kiwi road signs are the best and wittiest i have ever seen. i’m not sure if they intend them that way, but i have actually laughed out loud at some road signs today. my personal favourite commands the driver to ‘Merge. Like a zip.’… there is then an illustration of a zip. just in case there are some kiwi’s who have never come across a zip before, and all their clothes are fastened with just buttons or velcro.
- Rotarua, home of the bubbling volcanic mud, does indeed smell of eggs, and is not worth hanging around long in. we stopped as we passed through just long enough to take a couple of pictures, and then left pretty sharpish before the permeating smell made us sick. it may be the most popular tourist spot in the North Island, but it did not hold a massive appeal for me i’m afraid. methane doesn’t do it for me.
- Grover was a worthy name. our car has some slightly fucked up suspension issues, and every time we go over the vaguest bump in the road we hear a noise akin to nails being run down a blackboard. he does indeed gripe and whine at the slightest thing! and when we moved all the bags around to try and sort it out, the boot smacked me in the head, as if to add insult to injury! we are going to call the AA on arrival at Jim’s house, and hope they can get it sorted before we have to head down to Wellington on Sunday.
that brings us up to present time and day. i’ve been typing and catching up with myself on the laptop as the husband drives, and i’m hoping to be able to download this blog when we arrive at Jim’s house, which is nearing rapidly. and hopefully, the photos at the top of the blog will be updated too, to show the first week of our travels. well done for reading to the end- it’s been a bit epic, but then it’s been a bit of an epic week!
Monday, 4 October 2010
so, all is lovely (though not particularly sunny!) here in LA. we are staying in an area called Hermosa Beach , in a house that is just a couple of minutes away from a massive stretch of sandy white beach and crashing waves. we are staying with my husband’s auntie jennifer who moved out here over 30 years ago, and she is so welcoming and also an excellent maker of cosmopolitan cocktails (which is always a good trait in a host!). it has been exactly what we needed to ease us gently into the travelling.
the SoCal (Southern California to the uninitiated) way of life seems to us pretty relaxed- everyone here seems to be tanned, quite a few have silly little dogs on pink leashes, and all of them do indeed seem to spend weekends either rollerblading or cycling down the promenade at high speeds (which is a little bit dangerous to the odd clueless jetlagged meandering british person like us!) or leaping enthusiastically into the sea with a surf board under their arm.
we have only been here two days, but we have fallen a little in love with it already. our first night was spent drinking cocktails outside in jennifer’s little oasis of a garden, by a flaming chimonia and eating massive hunks of barbecued salmon, before the jetlag finally caught up with us and we turned in about 10.30. yesterday we had a lazy sunday morning reading the papers and being introduced to the concept of a breakfast burrito (this is something i most definitely intend to bring back to the uk- a toasted tortilla, filled with scrambled egg, peppers, scallions, torn cheese, avocado and salsa is a grand way to start the day!) by the husband’s cousin Chris. Chris and his girlfriend then took us down to the beach for a surfing lesson. i did all of my learning from a dry vantage point on the brow of a little hill at the water’s edge (i like to watch and learn, especially when the water is a little chilly!) but the husband was right in there, wetsuit and board and bright eyed enthusiasm! there was one hilarious moment when a proper Baywatch style lady lifeguard, all red anorak and wraparound shades, sauntered over and warned me that if he had been in there on his own she would have gone in to save him 20 minutes earlier because he wasn’t hanging off the side of his board correctly and looked like he didn’t know what he was doing. i tried to make it clear to her that it was his first ever lesson, and he didn’t know what he was doing, but she just nodded sagely, and told me to pass the message on.
all the family went to a place called ‘Simzees’ last night for drinks and dinner, which is apparently the hottest new spot in Manhatten Beach. they had a massive selection of beers, all of which seemed to be edging towards 9% abv, a great music selection playing out and american football on the many tvs. we had awesome (both in size and taste- mine was almost the size of my head, photo evidence to follow) burgers and the table shared a 'haystack' of blue cheese covered fries. it felt like we were truly in the U.S. of A!!
today we are going to do the tacky hollywood stuff. our hosts look vaguely disappointed in us, but have conceded that to come to LA without seeing the Hollywood sign, Rodeo drive and the walk of stars is akin to visiting London without seeing Big Ben, Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus. ultimately, there is not much there to see, but it is worth it for the cheesy obligatory tourist photos.
i hear rain on the window pane so that is a little disappointing, and not what i expected from ‘sunny californi-a’, but then we are here at the end of their summer so should not have expected too much. even with the rain it is nowhere near cold, like the wet and miserable ‘england in october’ we left a few days ago, so i am certainly not complaining. and i have received an email this morning from our friend in new zealand who we will be staying with at the end of the week, promising that the weather forecast is good and we should have plenty of sunshine over the next few days. tonight we will be checking in to LAX airport for another massively long flight, and another totally different time zone.
auckland here we come!
the SoCal (Southern California to the uninitiated) way of life seems to us pretty relaxed- everyone here seems to be tanned, quite a few have silly little dogs on pink leashes, and all of them do indeed seem to spend weekends either rollerblading or cycling down the promenade at high speeds (which is a little bit dangerous to the odd clueless jetlagged meandering british person like us!) or leaping enthusiastically into the sea with a surf board under their arm.
we have only been here two days, but we have fallen a little in love with it already. our first night was spent drinking cocktails outside in jennifer’s little oasis of a garden, by a flaming chimonia and eating massive hunks of barbecued salmon, before the jetlag finally caught up with us and we turned in about 10.30. yesterday we had a lazy sunday morning reading the papers and being introduced to the concept of a breakfast burrito (this is something i most definitely intend to bring back to the uk- a toasted tortilla, filled with scrambled egg, peppers, scallions, torn cheese, avocado and salsa is a grand way to start the day!) by the husband’s cousin Chris. Chris and his girlfriend then took us down to the beach for a surfing lesson. i did all of my learning from a dry vantage point on the brow of a little hill at the water’s edge (i like to watch and learn, especially when the water is a little chilly!) but the husband was right in there, wetsuit and board and bright eyed enthusiasm! there was one hilarious moment when a proper Baywatch style lady lifeguard, all red anorak and wraparound shades, sauntered over and warned me that if he had been in there on his own she would have gone in to save him 20 minutes earlier because he wasn’t hanging off the side of his board correctly and looked like he didn’t know what he was doing. i tried to make it clear to her that it was his first ever lesson, and he didn’t know what he was doing, but she just nodded sagely, and told me to pass the message on.
all the family went to a place called ‘Simzees’ last night for drinks and dinner, which is apparently the hottest new spot in Manhatten Beach. they had a massive selection of beers, all of which seemed to be edging towards 9% abv, a great music selection playing out and american football on the many tvs. we had awesome (both in size and taste- mine was almost the size of my head, photo evidence to follow) burgers and the table shared a 'haystack' of blue cheese covered fries. it felt like we were truly in the U.S. of A!!
today we are going to do the tacky hollywood stuff. our hosts look vaguely disappointed in us, but have conceded that to come to LA without seeing the Hollywood sign, Rodeo drive and the walk of stars is akin to visiting London without seeing Big Ben, Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus. ultimately, there is not much there to see, but it is worth it for the cheesy obligatory tourist photos.
i hear rain on the window pane so that is a little disappointing, and not what i expected from ‘sunny californi-a’, but then we are here at the end of their summer so should not have expected too much. even with the rain it is nowhere near cold, like the wet and miserable ‘england in october’ we left a few days ago, so i am certainly not complaining. and i have received an email this morning from our friend in new zealand who we will be staying with at the end of the week, promising that the weather forecast is good and we should have plenty of sunshine over the next few days. tonight we will be checking in to LAX airport for another massively long flight, and another totally different time zone.
auckland here we come!
Friday, 1 October 2010
WOW!
we fly tomorrow morning.
we leave the house at 6am.
taxi is booked.
backpack is packed.
just time for one last pizza down the road at porchetta, our friendly local italian and venue of my first london date with my husband (he impressed me by eating a whole massive pizza on his own, and not requiring a doggy box), and then to bed for a few (no doubt sleepless) hours, and onwards to LA.
time has whizzed away with me. i've not managed to update this blog as much as i would have liked, or download the photos from my last few days in london. (i haven't even managed to properly build up my fake tan, or paint my toenails- i've definitely been busy if i'm flying out to LA that un-prepped!) but hopefully i'll get some time to catch up with myself and this blog soon.
husband is just a few minutes away from getting home (has been at his last day at work today- nothing like leaving leaving to the last minute!!), and i can sense that a champagne cork needs to be popped soon, so i'll sign off for now.
next time 'twill be updating from foreign shores!
we fly tomorrow morning.
we leave the house at 6am.
taxi is booked.
backpack is packed.
just time for one last pizza down the road at porchetta, our friendly local italian and venue of my first london date with my husband (he impressed me by eating a whole massive pizza on his own, and not requiring a doggy box), and then to bed for a few (no doubt sleepless) hours, and onwards to LA.
time has whizzed away with me. i've not managed to update this blog as much as i would have liked, or download the photos from my last few days in london. (i haven't even managed to properly build up my fake tan, or paint my toenails- i've definitely been busy if i'm flying out to LA that un-prepped!) but hopefully i'll get some time to catch up with myself and this blog soon.
husband is just a few minutes away from getting home (has been at his last day at work today- nothing like leaving leaving to the last minute!!), and i can sense that a champagne cork needs to be popped soon, so i'll sign off for now.
next time 'twill be updating from foreign shores!
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