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!