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11: Wednesday
Milford Sound Queenstown
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Woke very early to a freezing, frosty morning, low cloud and heavy fog. Personal service again for my modest breakfast of (instant) coffee and toast. Got the landlord to give me a lift into Te Anau village around 9.00, treated myself to a cup of decent coffee, then had a walk around the shops and along the lake front. The lake was beautiful, even through the mist. Loads of Japanese tourists arriving and leaving in tour buses. The Intercity bus arrived from Queenstown at 10.30, with friendly driver Neville in charge. As we left the town, I was amused to see the street sign for the laneway behind a Chinese restaurant -- "Wong Way"!
The drive to Milford Sound was wonderful: the trip was worth the drive alone. Our first comfort stop was at a rest area on Knobs Flat, a spectacular alluvial flat on the Eglington River at the base of the Earl Mountains. Red tussock grass framed vistas of snowy mountains with wisps of low cloud hovering above ground level. Another photo opportunity at Lake Gunn, where the still mirror surface of the lake gave perfect reflections of the mountains behind. There were only 18 passengers on the coach, so we made good enough time to take a few extra stops, including a short side trip to a 20 minute walk over a suspension bridge and up a boardwalk through rainforest beside a cascading creek, near the start of the Lake Marion walking track. The creek water was a limpid spearmint blue, surrounded by mossy overhanging beeches and dripping ferns. Beside another stop at a lookout near Mt Christina, I noticed a memorial plaque dedicated to a grader driver killed in an avalanche on the far side of the Homer Tunnel in 1985. The Homer Tunnel itself was a bit scary -- 1.2km, driven downhill straight through the rock, no lighting and just enough space for 2 vehicles to pass, with a very steep hairpin descent on the other side. The bus driver gave us a thrill by briefly turning off the headlights as we passed through.
Milford Sound was indescribable. We could not have had a more perfect day for cruising: totally clear and no wind, just towering cliffs and mountains, wooded slopes, hanging valleys and waterfalls, and deep, deep water, so clear and cold it shone black. There were a few seals around on the rocks, but not a lot of bird activity and regrettably no Fiordland Crested Penguins! The "Red Boat" took us out to the mouth of the fiord in the Tasman Sea, and on the return trip the boat pulled in almost underneath the thundering 1,000ft cascade of the Stirling Falls. Milford Sound is top of the "must see" list for NZ tourists, and rightly so. Mitre Peak is said to be the most frequently depicted natural feature in the country.
We departed at 3.15pm for an uneventful drive back to Te Anau. After a meal break, the coach continued on to Queenstown. A long, quiet trip until we got to within 25km of Queenstown and it was getting dark, when the coach lost its headlights. The driver didn't seem to have a clue about the obvious things (like checking the fuses), and was having trouble getting reception on his mobile phone: we resigned ourselves to a long wait while he walked up the road to find somewhere with better coverage. Meantime, a Kiwi Experience bus came along, thank goodness, so we were able to follow it as far as Frankston (on the outskirts of Queenstown), where we swapped to another bus. Got dropped off downtown and was able to follow another girl to Thomas's (dragging that bloody heavy bag along the cobbles). Thomas's on the Waterfront proved to be a slightly shabby backpackers'-cum-hotel, very much a young people's place and a bit bargain-basement for the price, but in an unbeatable location right on Lake Wakatipu in the heart of dowtown Queenstown.
The place was buzzing, people everywhere, and shops, cafes and pubs all open until 11.00pm. I took a bit of a stroll around the town, and bought pumpkin soup and bread to go from a charming curly-haired juggling Italian boy at the "Hole in the Wall" on the mall. Bought a phone card at reception and phoned Tony.
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12: Thursday
In and Around Queenstown
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Woke around 6.20, after not getting to sleep until after 11.00pm last night. This is a young people's town: it comes alive in the early evening as people get back from the ski fields, and everyone seems to keep late hours. Slow start to the day, as it doesn't start to get light until 7.30, and there's no-one around until 10.30 or so. Very cold and frosty, but gloriously fine again. The mountain peaks around the lake looked pristine as the sun rose, and the view from my room was worh millions.
I went out a bit after 9.00 and wandered around town for a bit, getting oriented in daylight. With the hotel on a corner, and right on the angle of the bay, I kept turning at right angles to where I wanted to go! Finally found my bearings and walked up to the gondola terminal, which wasn't far, but Brecon St is very steep. The gondola ride was fantastic -- 900 ft up the hill, at 45 degrees, to Bob's Peak and the Skyline restaurant. The complex is one big tourist trap, but the outlook over the lake and town is breathtaking. There were plenty of youngsters obviously enjoying themselves on the luge, and half a dozen paragliding staff sitting in the sun waiting for suckers.
Back down the gondola, and I went to the Kiwi Birdlife Park next door. The park is a pleasant area on a reclaimed garbage dump, re-forested and housing some of NZ's rare and endangered bird species, as well as providing a habitat for free-living birds. It took me ages, even after my eyes had dark-adapted, to finally spot one of the two young brown kiwis in the kiwi house. Funny-looking bird it is, too, like a furry soccer ball with a long snout. The owner's sidekick, a female shelduck, wandered in and out of the reception area and shop at will, hopping up on the desk for a petting before getting a drink from the ornamental fountain in the cafe. I saw keas, kakarikis (red- and yellow-capped), tuis, a weka, black stilts, pukekos, brown and Campbell Is teal (only 50 pairs of the latter left in existence), as well as NZ pigeons and various other wild birds.
Back downtown, I dropped into the hotel, then went and got a doner kebab for lunch. At the top of the mall, a red double-decker sightseeing bus was waiting at the kerb, so I hopped on for a 3-hour tour to Arrowtown and environs. First stop was the A J Hackett bungy, on a suspension bridge over the Kawarau Gorge. This is the original commercial bungy, and there were still dozens of foolhardy youngsters lining up to be terrified witless at $130 a go. Hackett and his partner are now multi-millionaires, as somwhere in excess of 500,000 idiots have had their eyeballs jolted loose to yells of "Go bungy!" from the spectators and "Oh, sh*t!" from the victim. It's a long steep walk back up from the river on wobbly legs. Next stop, the Gibbston Winery and cheese company. I didn't bother about the wine sampling, obviously, although the ambience on the sunny cafe terrace was very mellow: I did buy a $4 sample tray of fresh and ripened soft cheeses from the cheese room to enjoy later.
Arrowtown is a small, charming former goldmining town in a narrow valley on the Arrow River. The main street shops and miners' cottages have been carefully preserved, and the town is tourist-oriented without being too tacky, and very pretty. By 4.00pm it was getting very cold. On the way back, along the road that passes Coronet Lodge and the turn-off to Coronet Peak ski fields, there were still a lot of patches of heavy frost from the previous night. Returned to the hotel around 5.15 and settled in -- forecast another below-freezing night.
Lake Wakatipu is lovely, 80km long and over 1,000ft deep in parts: the water is crystalline and a cold 9 deg all year round. The steamer TSS Earnslaw leaves on lake trips from a wharf just down from the hotel, belching smoke and tooting merrily. The town teems with people after 5.00pm, when everyone returns from their adventures (and Queenstown offers just about any adventure sport you can think of. It seems to be dedicated to shopping, ski-ing, partying and risking one's neck!)
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13: Friday
Haast Pass West Coast Franz Josef
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Woke to another fine frosty morning, checked out and manouevred the Bag from Hell up Beach St to the coach stop. We set out with 18 passengers and driver Struan McDuff, a Southlander with a rhotic Scots-influenced accent. Very frosty again: the fields looked almost snowy, and puddles in the gutters were frozen solid. Heavy fog and low cloud obscured the scenery initially, but it burned off by mid-morning when we reached Makarora. Highlights of the trip up to mid-way point, when we changed drivers at the Gates of Haast:
- The Bottle House on the edge of Queenstown. Allegedly, the original owner-builder died of liver failure half-way through constructing the second floor. His mates nobly undertook the drinking necessary to complete the house, although they added more windows (and less wall) at the insistence of their long-suffering spouses.
- Chard Farm winery, near Lake Hayes. The Clutha Valley and surrounding areas are the fastest-growing wine-producing region in the southern hemisphere.
"Gentle Annie" Bridge and Roaring Meg's Lookout, named after local characters from the goldrush days.
- Giant fibreglass fruit at Cromwell!
- Crossed the 45th parallel (again) -- halfway to the South Pole!
- A section of deer fence near Makarora decorated with women's knickers -- supposed to be hung while still warm.
- Cameron Flat, on the Makarora River approaching Haast Pass. Cameron actually beat Julius Haast to be the first pakeha to cross the Southern Alps to the west coast.
- Haast Pass itself, which rises up from the Fish River bridge -- a deep, narrow chasm lined with rainforest. The flora changes dramatically from the valley, as the rainfall is much higher on the westerd side (5 metres or so annually).
- Below the Haast Bridge, the river bed is a tumble of house-sized boulders, washed down by flood waters.
Changed drivers at the Gates of Haast, at Thunder Creek Falls, where we took a short walk to view the falls. Comfort stop at Haast township, a depressing little new town , built in 1968. Stopped at Knight's Point lookout on the West Coast, to view the Tasman Sea and seals on the beach about 1km south and below. Passed Lake Moeraki, which, unlike the lakes we'd seen so far, is rain-fed. The water is clear, but brown and tannic, and much warmer than the snow-fed lakes. At Lake Paringa we had a meal stop at a salmon farm, where visitors can feed the fat quinnat salmon who will feed them later! Straight on then to Fox and Franz Josef glaciers, both tiny townships dedicated to glacier touring, walking and fishing.
The bus driver dropped all passengers off at their accommodation. "Glowworm Cottages" was lovely; pretty modern rooms, units and backpackers' hostel built around a garden courtyard with porch swings, a hot spa, and guest kitchen where homemade soup was served at 6.00 for anyone who wanted it. My self-contained studio unit was very comfortable and well-appointed, decorated with rustic nostalgia. A delightful set-up for the very reasonable price of NZ$55 a night. Walked around to the Glacier Guides HQ to check my booking for the half-day walk tomorrow. No-one else had booked for option 2 (the slow walk!), so it looked like I'd be joining the regular group. The girl assured me that an older couple and a family with 3 children had booked, so I should be fine. We'll see! Over soup in the kitchen, I chatted to a couple of the young backpackers who'd come in on the bus with me, including an English girl from Stalybridge. She seemed delighted when I assured her that I'd not only heard of Stalybridge, my mother-in-law had come from there.Back to top
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14: Saturday
Franz Josef Glacier
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Well, what a day! Spent a very comfortable night: I am so impressed with this little motel. Got myself to Glacier Guides HQ by 8.15 -- still no other bookings for option 2, but the 8.45 group was to be split into two, so there'd be a slower-paced group, thank God! Got kitted out in the boot room (after signing the usual disclaimers): thick wool socks over my Damart thermals, heavy leather trekking boots, a big grey Goretex rain jacket, bumbag containing Ice Talonz, and an aluminium trekking pole. We set out in an old bus for the 10 minute drive to the start of the glacier walking track. We split into 2 groups, and with guide Megan the slow-coaches set off for a 1/2km walk through rainforest to the river bed, then a 2/12 km slog along the pebbles and rocks to the terminal face of the glacier.
The path apparently alters frequently, when flooding wipes out sections of the river bed and moraines. At one point we had to ascent a ladder, then scramble over a glacier-smoothed rock face with only a rope as a hadrail -- scary! At the terminal face (past a big ice cavern), it was a slog up foot-holds cut into the ice, and over terminal moraine, until we reached a semi-level place on the ice where we stopped to strap on our Ice Talonz. These were jointed metal plates with jagged teeth along the edges, that strapped over our boots. They felt like I was walking with my feet in two tin buckets, and I had to adopt a John Wayne swagger to avoid falling over my own feet. I was glad of the trekking pole, as the terrain was very uneven, and at times we walked in crevices with just enough room to put one foot in front of the other.
The ice surface was like hard-packed hailstones, although in places the surface had melted to expose clear, hard blue ice underneath -- magic! Little rivulets of meltwater showed as sculpted blue trails of clear pure water. Further up on the ice (we only ascended about 100m but it felt like more) there was the opportunity to descend into a shallow crevasse and inch along sideways -- I declined: just a bit too claustrophobic for me!
Further up, Megan hacked steps down into a big sinkhole that formed little caverns and grottos at the bottom. It looked so beautiful, but by this stage I feared my legs wouldn't carry me out again, so I didn't go down. (The weight of the boots and Talonz made climbing very heavy going, and the impaired sensation in my feet made it hard to feel confident about where I stepped). Coming back down, walking along a fissure, I mis-stepped, tripped, and took a headlong tumble, scraping my right hand and hitting my hip and behind quite heavily. No real harm done, but not a pretty sight as I struggled to untangle my feet and get up without sliding face-first down the slope. Megan made me walk behind her after that! Didn't help though, when we got back to the rope-walk bit. Down a 45 degree smooth slope, when you can't grip with your feet? They must be kidding. Fell on my arse again, of course, and crunched all over guide Craig's foot in the process -- serve the silly ass right for being so ineffectual a spotter. The ladder was easy-peasy in comparison -- ladders I can do! The walk back along the river bed seemed endless, especially as the sky had clouded over and it was beginning to drizzle. I abandoned thoughts of doing a helicopter joy flight to the snow: visibility would be very poor by then.
Curious how distances seemed so foreshortened. The river bed was quite level, so you could see the groups ahead, and it was only by how tiny they appeared that it was possible to judge the distance, and the magnificent scale of the blue ice fall further up the glacier. Even though it was quite warm by midday, and I sweated in the heavy rain jacket, it was the most marvellous feeling to know I was walking on hard, cold blue ice, surrounded by sinuous, almost organic shapes carved by surface melting, wind and rain.
I staggered off the bus back at HQ, bruised, battered and buggered, and with a nasty blister on my heel (should have taped up after all). Lurched back to the motel, had a quick lunch then crashed out around 2.00pm and slept til 5.00. Raining when I woke, a bit stiff and sore. Wished I'd brought my togs, as a soak in the spa would have been just the ticket. Gave up thoughts of walking the forest track to see the glow-worms -- too wet. Went up to the "Cheeky Kea" cafe and enjoyed their 3-course all-you-can-eat smorgasbord for NZ$17-50. A good honest feed, and just what I was ready for. By 8.30, heavy rain had set in as forecast, so I snuggled down and watched a "Stadium Spectacular" on TV -- an open air orchestral and operatic concert, featuring lots of old favourites.
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15: Sunday
Greymouth TranzAlpine Railway Christchurch
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Poured rain all night. I woke before 5.00 again, but forced myself to go back to sleep until 7.00. Hauled my bags round to the verandah in front of the lounge to wait for the bus, which picked us up at the gate right on cue just before 9.30. We got underway in heavy clud and drizzle, so the driver's commentary for much of the time was along the lines of "If it wasn't raining, you could see blah-blah". There seemed to be a lot of rest stops for a shortish trip -- a meal stop at the "Bushman's Centre" between Kakapotahi and Ross, then another in Hokitika. Not much to do on a wet Sunday afternoon in Hokitika except look at shops selling carved pounamu (jade), for which the area is famous, and glass. The greenstone just doesn't appeal to me, for some reason, and was quite expensive. I did buy myself a rather charming glass penguin figurine, though, from a shop selling mostly overpriced and garishly-coloured kitsch.
We reached Greymouth on time: I collected and checked in my baggage, then grabbed a sandwich in the rather skimpy railway refreshment room while I waited for the TranzAlpine to arrive. It was kind of exciting, really -- one of the "Great Train Journeys" of the world.
The journey itself was quite stunning, or would have been if the weather had been kinder. It would be really something in spring or summer. The train passes through an enormously varying landscape, from river gorges and flood plains to mountains and alpine meadows (would love to see these when the flowers were in bloom). The Otera Tunnel was an imposing 8km long. We stopped briefly at Arthur's Pass to take on passengers, with time for a quick smoke and a few photographs. There was definitely a feeling of the romance of rail in jumping down from the carriage beside the tracks, with a conductor there to give a hand down, right at the mid-point of a trip from coast to coast and surrounded by the alps. I ended up spending most of the journey eating junk food from the buffet car. The trip terminated in Christchurch around 6.40pm. No "Stonehurst" shuttle waiting at the station, as I'd been promised, but there were plenty of others to choose from at a modest $5 a throw. Stonehurst Accommodations was a nice enough place, and very central, but obviously a backpacker haunt -- they wanted $20 key money: bloody cheek! (And it's smoke-free, buggrit.) Booked and pre-paid for a shuttle to the airport at 6.45am in the morning.
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16: Monday
Auckland Hamilton
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Argh, what a day. Didn't have a terribly good start, as I overslept (the alarm didn't do off) and woke with only 25 minutes to get myself checked out and ready to meet the airport shuttle. Fortunately I'd packed and sorted everything the night before. Scrambled downstairs without even a cup of coffee to fortify myself, to be told that the shuttle mighn't arrive until 7.00, as another person had booked for that time. Let it be known that I was less than impressed (why should I go later, rather than the other person leave a bit earlier, hey? Answer me that.) Anyway, as it happened my shuttle did come on time, so I got to the airport in good time to check in for my 8.15 flight to Auckland, and even got coffee and a bran muffin (and a smoke -- NZ airports are civilised and have Leper's Lounges).
The flight was the usual; weather in Auckland still dull and overcast. Caught a Citicabs shuttle with a nice Indian driver. I noticed that all the Auckland cab drivers were very smartly presented in collar and tie, and either a suit or blazer. (Can't see Tony coming at that, somehow). We didn't get into the city until 11.00, as we wasted a lot of time on a tosser too busy doing business on his phobile moan to tell the driver exactly where he wanted to go, and who then couldn't remember the address and directed the driver down a dead-end street. The shuttle took me to the Sky Centre, which housed the Intercity coack terminal. I was able to get a luggage locker to dump my bag, then set off for a quick look around the city centre before I had to catch the coach to Hamilton at 1.40pm. The Sky Centre was pretty boring, basically just a big hotel/restaurant/casino. I forked out $15 to ride the glass elevator to the observation deck of the Sky Tower, and enjoyed fantastic 360 degree views of the city and surrounding harbours, with touch-screen information stations at each compass point as well as diagrammatic plaques telling you what you're looking at. Lots of young Japanese tourists giggling in mock terror at the glass floors around the perimeter of the observation deck. You can look straight down a hundred feet or so -- too cool! Got the most out of my ticket by taking advantage of the 2-for-1 muffin and coffee offer, then descended and went for a wander around the CBD, which seemed much like any other big city, and quite multicultural.
An uneventful trip to Hamilton, a bit less than 2 hours and in a double-decker coach this time. I snoozed part of the way and arrived in Hamilton around 3.40pm. The transit centre is next to a big K-Mart, and serves all the local bus routes as well. A nice young lady at the travel and information service booked a SuperShuttle for me, so I got to the Airport Motor Inn around 5.00pm. It's a big motel, and I was given a HUGE triple room overlooking the terminal. It was nice to have a few of the standard motel luxuries, even a mini-bar, not that I was likely to make much use of it. Sorted out my bag (which was 4.5kg overweight when I checked in at Christchurch that morning), and packed all my souvenirs in a duty-free bag to carry on (apart from lightening the load, I figured it would make it easier going through Customs back in Brisbane). Unfortunately the luggage strap I bought in Dunedin seemed to have vanished. The motel seemed to be fully geared to Freedom Air flight times, and so was the airport terminal, apparently. The lady at reception assured me that the cafe and duty-free shop would be open for business before my 6.20am flight in the morning. Booked a wake-up call for 4.00am (urgh!)
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17: Tuesday
Home
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Made sure I was awake on time this time. Up at 4.00am: drizzling but not too badly. I found a luggage trolley at the front of the motel and lugged my bags around the circular drive 100m or so to the terminal. Completed check-in with no hassles, and had just enough NZ currency left to pay the $25 departure tax. I chose a 3-pack of "Shingle Peak" wines and a carton of smokes for Tony at the duty-free shop (no local cheeses on sale, unfortunately), and boarded for a routine flight home.
Back in Brisvegas, I waited to collect my bag while the quarantine beagle did his thing. The dog got quite excited and stuck his nose right inside the backpacks of two young NZ blokes -- turns out one had had a meat pie and the other a ham sandwich to eat on the flight. Went through the "red" channel at Customs, and found this was actually quicker than going through the "nothing to declare" route (where most passengers headed). All the bone, shell and wood items I'd bought were in the carrier bag, so it was no problem to get these checked and cleared by a very pleasant female officer. We'd landed 20 minutes early, so I had 15 mins or so to wait until I spotted Tony, Brent and the Boy arriving. Bubba's head was swivelling with all the people and hubbub around him, and he looked confused but very happy when he spotted Nanny! The big smiles and cuddles said it all. Back home by just after 9.30am local time, tired and VERY hungry!
I tried to sort out my impressions of the whole trip. It's hard -- New Zealand is every bit as beautiful as it promised to be, and although you know you're in another country, there's enough similarities to Oz to make you feel comfortable and at home. Some of the things I noticed (apart from the awesome scenery, of course, and the things I mentioned in detail earlier):
- Possums. The locals seem to be making a big effort to turn this feral invader (70 million and increasing) to economic advantage, with possum skin artefacts as well as possum-merino knitted garments. The skins I saw were very dark compared to our local brushtails, with very thick, long fur.
- Deer farms. So many of them: deer farming seems to be almost as important to graziers as sheep and cattle.
- Gold mining. While not nearly as significant as it once was, there are still working gold mines on the West Coast, like the one we passed at Ross.
- Meat pies! Generally excellent, and put Australia to shame.
- Gorse. Ubiquitous. It looks very pretty, with glossy dark green leaves and sprays of brilliant yellow flowers, but takes over huge tracts of cleared land.
Flax bushes. The huge spiky clumps dot the landscape just about everywhere, and seemed to me to characterise NZ even more that the ferns.
- Water. You don't go far in NZ without seeing water -- whether it's the stunning coastlines, limpid blue and turquoise alpine streams, lakes or the tame-looking coastal rivers that meander modestly across broad rocky flats but can turn to huge raging torrents literally overnight. The drinking water tends to be hard, but of excellent quality and taste.
Overall, New Zealand was just full of contrasts, and much more than anyone could fully appreciate in just a few weeks. I want to go back!
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