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….
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