NEW ZEALAND Part 2

My brother Chris's 50th birthday today: pity I won't be there for the party!

Woke to a clear but freezing morning, hard frost and a thick crust of ice all over my car. Drove down into the city centre around 9.00 for a bit of sightseeing before heading off for Dunedin. I parked just off Cathedral Square. The cathedral is beautiful. I didn't venture in as it was Sunday morning and the choir was practicing for Sung Eucharist later in the morning: I stood in the porch and listened for a few minutes. I was a bit suprised at the number of people out and about on such a cold Sunday morning. All the cafes and souvenir shops around the square seemed to be open for business. I had a look around the Tourist Information Centre, wandered down Oxford Terrace (all trendy cafes and brasseries) and along the banks of the Avon River, idyllic even in mid-winter. Plenty of people about in the Botanic Gardens in Hagley Park as well: the city had a sense of liveliness and optimism.

Left for Dunedin around 11:00. Canterbury Plain lived up to its appellation, mile after mile of flat green pasture and farmland, broken only by tall hedges and windbreaks -- and sheep -- but backed in the distance by the Southern Alps, which always seem like a total suprise popped into the landscape. Stopped for a short lunch break at Timaru around 12:45, and later at Oamaru. The town had obviously been a centre of some importance earlier in its history, judging by the grand public buildings. The Harbour-Tyne historic precinct is a collection of Victorian workshops, warehouses and offices, all carefully restored and now housing craft shops, markets and the like, although some (like the New Zealand Organ Manufactory) still carry on their original business. I amused myself exploring a small second-hand and craft market, where a number of local ladies knitted, surrounded by their beautiful handiwork for sale. I bought a thick homespun woollen cap for Lance's birthday, for the miserly sum of NZ$14. I was very tempted to splurge on a sweater for myself, as the prices were more than reasonable for fine hand-made garments, but decided to spare my poor straining suitcase any further burden.

The countryside became hilly again south of Waikouaiti, but the day stayed gloriously fine, clear and windless. Reached Dunedin, perched on Otago Harbour and surrounded by steep hills, around 4:30pm, and managed to find Carroll Street without difficulty. The Trinity Court Motel, though, was tucked away up an internal driveway through an old commercial building that looked like a garage. The room, though small, was spotless and seemed to have all the necessities. This was clearly the wrong end of town, though, so I decided to dine early, and nipped across the road to the Lone Star Cafe as I didn't fancy walking in that part of town later at night. Amused myself later washing some smalls in the handbasin -- how exciting!

Penguin and albatross day, and what a full day it was. Woke before 5:00 and couldn't get back to sleep, so I was on my way out by 9.00. I took the drive very slowly as the roads were quite frosty. Portobello Road, along the inner shore of Otago Peninsula, hugs the winding shoreline: no shoulder, and all twists, turns and blind corners most of the way. Another stunning clear day. I reached Taiaroa Head, at the tip of the peninsula, around 10:00, so had a wander over to the cliffs and watched a colony of spotted shags busily engaged in building their nests in nooks and crannies on the cliff face. Also saw a number of what later proved to be Stewart Island shags (the main colony being located just around the head below the albatross colony).

The Royal Albatross Centre housed some very well-mounted and informative displays about the habits and life cycle of the royal albatross and the history of the colony (the only mainland breeding colony of albatross in the world). The tour began with a short Richard Attenborough video. Out guide Bill (who had an English West Country accent) walked the group up a very steep and rather icy path to the observatory, a small, glass-fronted building at the very top of the headland, and just above the nesting terraces on the exposed grassy slope below. Only 3 albatross chicks were on their nests: there had been 17 chicks this season, but 12 died of some kind of biological toxin. The remaining chicks were almost fully fledged, but still had long fluffy down on their necks: about six weeks until they reached maturity. At that stage of their development, they weigh around 10kg, and actually have to lose about 3kg to reach "flying weight", so parent birds only return to feed them 2 or 3 times a week, and when they do return, they land some distance away from the nest so the chicks have to get some exercise walking to get their dinner. In between, they waddle short distances and practice stretching and flapping their long awkward-looking wings into the wind.

Royal albatrosses usually live around 30 years, but Bill said that "Grandma", one of the original tagged birds from the colony, had been at least 60 when she had her last chick, before she failed to return from a flight. The albatrosses usually live long enough to rear two chicks successfully -- they don't start breeding until 9 or 10, and then usually nest every second year. Fledged young leave the nest in September, then spend the next 3 or 4 years constantly flying the circumpolar currents, hopefully returning to Taiaroa to breed.

After the tour and buying a few things at the Centre shop (including some rather handsome albatross socks for myself and spotted shag socks for Chris), I drove back to Portobello and had lunch sitting by the bay, then headed back toward the headland to Weller's Rocks jetty to meet the MV Monarch for my one-hour cruise. There were only a few people on board (including a tour group of giggling Japanese schoolgirls), and we headed out to the mouth of the harbour and around the headland for some magnificent views of the Stewart Island shag colony, the albatrosses, and a colony of New Zealand fur seals on the rocks. The guide pointed out the location of a blue (fairy) penguin colony, but there was no-one at home, of course (they don't come back from feeding at sea until sunset). After the cruise, off up the road a short distance to Penguin Place to meet yellow-eyed penguins and the Penguin Nazi -- the very bossy lady of the manor who booked the tickets and ordered around the harassed guides and everyone else! A short shuttle bus ride took us across the farm and over the headland to a point overlooking the penguin beach and conservation area. (I was amused by the antics of two little boys on the tour with their parents: they chattered constantly and happily until the shuttle got to the observation area, when mother said to the 4-year-old "Now, we're going to be still and quiet, still and quiet...", then added in an undertone "...and then I'm going to turn back the tide!"). A complex system of camouflaged trenches and hides (and some clever logistics by the guides for various groups of visitors) allowed us to get up close to the birds as they made their way up from the beach to their roosts.

Yellow-eyed penguins are the only antisocial penguin species, and are very territorial, although they made contact with other birds with a peculiar call rather like that of a black swan or swamp hen (hence the Maori name "hoiho"). Each pair has a well-defended territory containing a number of nesting sites. The birds' colouration is striking, and their breast feathers have a pearly sheen almost like styrofoam. The "conservation area" where the birds nest is part of a working sheep farm, and the land had been cleared years earlier, leaving little native vegetation for the birds to roost under. (One rather grandiose pair have claimed the entire remaining patch as their territory, leaving the rest to make do as best they can). The land owners have constructed little wooden hutches here and there, and have replanted patches of vegetation, although it is very slow-growing and will take decades to mature enough to be useable. The birds were being rather tentative crossing the beach at their usual spot: there proved to be a large predatory sea-lion lounging in the sand right next to their accustomed path, so they practically tip-toed as they scurried up to the safety of the grassy foreshore.

It was the most amazing and rewarding day, and left me with a wonderful glow of ambition achieved. I couldn't be bothered with thinking about going out for dinner, so picked up some canned stuff and yoghurt at a dairy on the way back into Dunedin, and spent a quiet night watching TV and talking to Mum and Dad on the phone (well, I had to tell someone about my amazing day!)

A frustrating and rather demoralising start to today's travel when the motel's EFTPOS link with their bank appeared to have problems, and my credit card was declined: then last night's credit card call to Mum had been charged (at exhorbitant rates) to my room account. Finally sorted it out to the motel owners' satisfaction, if not to mine, but I departed for the city centre feeling quite rattled.

I parked near Queen's Gardens and strolled around the Octagon. The city centre looked sad: shabby and a bit depressing, with lots of empty buildings and shops. Nothing like the lively feel of Christchurch. I noticed there were lots of second-hand shops, even right in the heart of town. The waterfront is ugly, all industrial and commercial areas. There is a huge Cadbury's chocolate factory down near the railway station (which is itself an imposing Victorian-cum-neo-Gothic monstrosity). An Early Settlers museum nearby looked interesting. I had no problems returning the hire car this time, and after getting dropped off at the Intercity bus terminal I had an hour or so to kill, so I walked back a block or so to the formal gardens outside the railway station and read my book, while a young guy exercised his dopy golden retriever.

The bus for Te Anau departed at 1.55pm, and I promptly dozed off until we reached Balclutha. Refreshment stop at "Peggydale", in the hills above Balclutha. This was a pretty farm, with on-site tourist cafe and shop selling quality leather and knitted goods. The countryside was gently rolling hills, so green and lush they looked manicured: lots of sheep (surprise, surprise) and deer farms. The remainder of the trip was uneventful. We changed buses at Gore, from where the remainder of the passengers headed south to Invercargill. There were only 10 passengers continuing to Te Anau, piloted by a very pleasant Asian driver. Arrived in Te Anau at 6.30pm, just after dark. My hotel, the Fiordland, was a good way back from the lake front and bus terminus. Fortunately, the driver stays there, so after he dropped off the other passengers at their accommodation and fuelled up I was able to get a lift. The hotel, a comfortable ski-lodge style building, had only had a couple of guests, so I dined on steak and veges in solitary splendour, with personal attention from the chef! Needless to say, I had a very quiet night.