The morning of our last day in New Zealand began like most of the others - feeding the ducks that had gathered outside our door. Standing outside the flat to feed them, Trav was able to gather three ducklings inside the cabin by laying a bread trail for them.

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Seeing as we were planning to leave from Christchurch tomorrow, and we were a day ahead of schedule, we decided to go for a “lap of the block” and see what we could find outside the Christchurch city limits. A quick visit to the tourism office provided us with a very surprised assistant when Trav asked what drives there were for up to 4 hours in any direction. Seeing as you can cross the island (which we did yesterday) in less than that, she was a little taken aback by the distances we were prepared to travel.

After hearing the benefits of going north (Kaikoura, to see the whales on a cruise, or swim with dolphins), west (where we’d come from, no point in that), and east (winery tours, which are pointless when you have to drive back), we headed south to Geraldine. There was already some interest in the area because it is where Trav’s PhD supervisor comes from (Hi Dave!) and so we thought we’d do a little stalking, er, religious pilgrimage to the site of the supervisor’s origins…*grin*

A little known fact about Geraldine is that it is the home of the world’s largest jersey. No, not the cow, the article of clothing… We did not know it was there until we pulled up outside the shop it is housed in, in order to walk over to the tourism office. When we got back to the car, Trav noted a small (about 2′ tall) sign promoting the “world’s largest jersey inside”, so we went in for a look.

Sure enough, there’s a bloody great big jersey hanging on the wall, with the Guiness Record certificate proudly displayed next to it. We asked whether there was a bigger one now (the certificate was dated 1991) and they said there wasn’t, but that “if there was, well, we’d just make a bigger one”.

After a quick bite to eat, we headed out of town to the Orari Gorge and began to climb the track. Given the dirt roads to the walking track were dusty, we did not expect the VERY wet and muddy path we found. It was a 2-hour return track, but the speed we were moving at would have meant we’d take much longer than that. On the basis it was only a matter of time before one or both of us slipped on our posteriors, we decided to cut our losses, sliding and slipping the few hundred metres back to the car (but remaining upright!)

We still wanted to go to a gorge, so we headed toward Weihei Gorge, but ended up driving right past it. We felt we had done so, because it didn’t seem like it should have been that far down the road, but we were on back roads, and signage was at a minimum, so it was hard to tell for sure. We ultimately found a sign for it that informed us there was no track at all, but we could explore the surrounding bush if we wanted. We didn’t.

Tried again to sate our gorge fetish with the Te Moana Gorge, but it turned out to be just a narrow road beside a stream. We eventually decided that the Te Moana Gorge was like the Weihei Gorge - just a stream in a valley, so we turned around after a few kilometres and headed out of the Geraldine area.

Before we left the Te Moana Gorge, there was a fork in the road that Trav decided to drive down to see what was there. The road came to an abrupt end a few hundred metres later with the stream crossing the road. The ford provided was made of concrete, but the water seemed to be flowing strongly. Using rocks, we estimated the depth of the water, then looked at the car and realised if we tried to cross it, we’d fill the car with water and drown the engine in the process. The idea to cross the stream was quickly abandoned.

There were a couple of other fords on the way out of the Geraldine area, but they were deeper and faster flowing water, with only loose gravel bases, not formed concrete. As a result, we decided to give them a miss also.

We opted for the “inland scenic route” back to Christchurch and were pleasantly surprised to find it was indeed scenic (see Western Australia, Cape Leeuwen for our surprise). We were certainly in the area where all the picturesque postcards of sheep and cattle grazing in front of snow-capped peaks are photographed, but we refrained from the obligatory “heaps of sheep” photo. Until, that is, we rounded a corner and found several hundred sheep on the road, headed straight at us…

Among the sights of the roadside, we noticed a couple of wire moa next to a shop. The moa is a bird that stood about 3m tall, and made such good food for the Maori when they arrived in NZ, that they are now extinct.

We also stopped at the Rakeira Gorge to have a look at the intense turquoise water, and just soak in the view. There is a jet boat operating in the area, but they were just packing up when we arrived. We considered asking them if they would be interested in taking us for a slower ride along the gorge, but decided it would not be worth their time to do so, since it was after 5pm.

While driving into the outskirts of Christchurch, Di noted there was a local attraction called the Travis Wetlands. Of course, we just HAD to go see them. We found them on Travis Road, opposite the Travis Medical Surgery, and just down from the Travis Takeaway Shop. The main problem we found with the Travis Wetlands is that they seem to be removing it to build a new housing complex, so we could not get access to it without written permission from the site manager, had to wear hard-hats and all the rest of the safety gear. About the only up-side of the wetlands destruction was that the housing estate they were building was called Travis Country. Well, it’s sort of an up-side from Trav’s point of view…*grin*

We stayed in the same park as last night, but in a different cabin, and relaxed for our last night in New Zealand. A special day today, for there was nobody that qualified themselves for SPOTD. There were probably a couple of people that could have received the award, but there was nothing truly memorable about them, so it was felt more appropriate to keep the award recipients at a higher standard.

Onward to Melbourne tomorrow… Bugger.

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This morning we went for a hike to the terminal face of the Fox glacier, because it was not closed like the Franz Joseph one was. The trail to the face was a rather tortuous one, through many large and small rocks, all trying to get Di to fall over them. However, despite the best efforts of the rocks, she stayed upright and made it to the path end without injury.

At one point of the trail, there was a sign stating “no stopping for next 200m”, presumably due to the risk of landslides. There was plenty of evidence of landslides all around us, with scarred cliffs, and waterfalls cascading over loose rocks. However, we figured that no matter what, we probably did not want to be in the “no stopping” zone or out of it, because with our luck, we’d run out of the zone and get hit by the landslide which did not pay any attention to the signage.

As we approached the terminal face, Trav noted a large piece of ice (~ 2′ x 1′) fall off the top of the face, into a pile of ice and rocks below. Seemed to us to be a pretty good reason why the closest people could get to the face was about 150m, since a chunk of ice that large falling on you might hurt a little.

Along the route to the terminal face was a little sign telling how back in the late 1800’s, an important figure in New Zealand history (Prime Minister? Premier?) came along and painted a watercolour of the glacier, which was apparently a very beautiful artwork. That information, we felt, was not as important as the fact that the bloke who painted it was named Fox, and just happily renamed the glacier after himself! Before he arrived, it had a completely different name, but after he arrived, he felt it should be named after him, so he just changed it’s name. What a conceited fellow…

After leaving the glacier, we headed north along the same road we’d travelled yesterday, toward Hokitika again. On the way, we stopped at a river that was very different in colour to the rest of the watercourses we’d seen. Whereas most of them were reasonably shallow and crystal clear, this one was a rather vivid shade of turquoise. We didn’t know why, but we stopped and had a look around the place, but were still no wiser when we left.

Arriving in Hokitika, we went to the supermarket to get some bread rolls and ham for lunch, since the bakery was closed, along with most of the town. It was apparently due to Westland Anniversary Day, but when we asked the person in the supermarket what the day signified, she had no idea. We asked another, and she had no idea either. Finally someone offered the suggestion that many years ago, there had been a horse race on that day, and so the holiday was a carry-over effect, even though the horse race was no longer run.

We went down to the beach to eat lunch and while we were there, we noted that the main purpose of the holiday was for the local male students to go down to the beach and big-note themselves in the hopes of impressing the girls. There was a large group of them all trying to be heroes not far from where we were, and one of them was trying to show how tough he was. “Go on! Hit me! Punch me in the chest! Go on!”, he urged his mates. Another fine entrant for the SPOTD award.

Not far out of Hokitika on the way to Arthur’s Pass is a sign pointing to an attraction called Londonderry Rock. We pulled over and went for the 15 minute walk through many small boulders to the extremely large rock that was the focus of the walk. Like most tourist attractions near a backwards dead-end hole like Hokitika, the rock had been vandalised, so all we really got to appreciate was the spray-can graffiti informing us that a girl named Lisa apparently slept around.

Continued onward to Otira Gorge and Arthur’s Pass, along a road that had many signs up telling motorists that caravans, trailers, and vehicles >13m in length were not permitted to drive on this particular route. We had been told that Arthur’s Pass was a rather narrow and winding road, so we began to wonder exactly what we were about to go through. The road did get very narrow indeed, and got down to a one-lane section on a steep section, where the traffic going downhill had to give way to traffic going uphill. There were small parking bays for downhill traffic to pull into, but as we were going uphill, it was not a problem for us to drive through. Perhaps going toward the west coast would have made driving conditions harder, but heading towards Christchurch, the road was not too bad, and certainly interesting.

The temperature dropped significantly too, and there was a reasonable amount of snow on the mountain peaks around us (remember, this is in the summer!). When at the glaciers, we had noted that we were in T-shirts, yet only 150m from the ice wall, and did not feel cold. At this point of the trip though, we were about 800m from the snow, and it was definitely cold enough to put the heater on in the car for a short while.

At the Arthur’s Pass township, we were just on the Christchurch side by a few hundred metres when a train pulled alongside us. Naturally, Trav could not let the challenge go without meeting it, and the roads were getting better, so we raced the train for several kilometres. It had the advantage of a straight, flat track, and we were stuck with roads that went up and down, and had several 45kph corners. After a while, the train track diverted from the road, and we ended the challenge, agreeing that the train driver was a big cheat for following the tracks…*grin*

Continuing onward, the road began to get a little straighter, although we were still high enough to be driving through clouds. It was at this point of the trip that we realised the windscreen wipers badly needed changing, blurring our view more than clearing it. Ah well, we just drove with them off, and kind of guessed our way along pretty easily.

Due to the rain forecast, upon arriving in Christchurch, we went to the Top Ten Holiday Park and managed to get the last cabin available. It was a very different standard to the accommodation in Fox Glacier, with two rooms, table, 4 chairs, 7 beds, 3 bookshelves, plates, bowls, cutlery, cooking utensils, stove (!), right down to dishwashing detergent, for only $33 (actually $29.70 with our discount card).

We decided to treat ourselves to a dinner in the city, and went and had roast dinners at a restaurant in the centre. After dinner, we wandered the tourist shops and got scared by the hideous prices they were charging for items we’d seen much cheaper elsewhere on the island. However, it did not matter, because the shop owners had obviously made deals with the Japanese travel group companies, and large groups of Asian shoppers were happily paying high prices for what we considered to be tacky rubbish.

The night ended with a tub of icecream (chocolate ice-cream, with chocolate fudge, and choc-chips - YUM!) as we watched the local news and saw the south part of the North Island was flooded (where we had been only a few days prior).

Onward to nowhere in particular tomorrow…

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A mere six minutes after getting up, someone qualified themselves for SPOTD, as Trav was trying to take a shower. As with most of the places we stayed, each tap in the amenities block was affected by other taps. As a result, when in the shower, you’re hoping nobody else is going to either turn a shower on or off while you’re in there, or else the water will either go dead cold or boiling hot until you jump out of the water stream and adjust the taps.

On this occasion, there was a man shaving at the sinks, while his child amused itself waiting for Dad. Unfortunately for Trav, the amusement was derived from turning taps on and off, watching the steam come off the hot ones, and trying to overpower the sinks with the cold ones (ie: more water filling sink than could get out the plughole). All of which was constantly affecting Trav’s shower temperature and water pressure.

After realising that the taps were not being used for any useful purpose, Trav called out over the stalls to please leave them alone because they were affecting the showers. No response, other than the child continuing to tell it’s father in an excited way to look at the water in the sinks he was playing with. A second call for a cessation of playing with taps also went by the wayside, and the shower continued to adjust, while the little kid laughed and Dad murmured his approval of what his child was doing.

Somehow, neither father nor son seemed prepared for the sight of a rampaging Trav, as he came bursting out of the stall dripping water, wrapped in a towel and blasting them about “getting some (expletive deleted) clues in life”. The little kid was actually much closer than Trav was expecting and the soap container he’d brought out with him to rattle and make a bit more noise for intimidation purposes actually clipped him across the back of the neck. After another few seconds informing both of them where they could go and which bus to take, Trav stormed back into the shower. Which, for the record, remained unaffected by any form of playing with taps for the remainder of the time he was in there…

Heading south after leaving the holiday park, we decided to check out the Westport seal colony, which is only a couple of kilometres from the township. There were about a dozen seals lazing about on the rocks, so presumably the remainder were out at sea feeding, because it hardly looked like a colony to us. While we were there, the number of people stopping to look at the seals was quite high, we think, because it’s the only thing to do in Westport. Perhaps the 12 seals came in to look at the 70-person strong “human colony”?

After leaving the seals, we turned on the car radio and listened to the DJ announcing cancellations for various events around the region. Of eight events planned for that day, six of them were postponed or cancelled, which seemed like an awful lot of people were not going to be able to do what they planned.

Punakaiki was our next major stop along the coast, to look at the “pancake rocks” that are found there. Nobody quite knows why the rocks have formed the way they have, with layers of mudstone settling in between layers of limestone, but the rocks only seem to be found in that area. Due to water erosion, there are also blowholes found along the walk, which made a nice booming sound and lots of splashes, even though we were only there at low tide. Neither of us could be bothered waiting around until 3:37pm for it to reach high tide to see the blowholes at their best, but even at midday, when we were there, they were still quite impressive.

As with the Whakarewarewa thermal park in Rotorua, there were safety rails installed all the way around the path, to prevent people climbing out on the cliffs or to get a better view of the blowholes, and falling into the water. However, they have obviously seen the rampant stupidity of some people, and so there was also a life-buoy on a rope which could be thrown to people that didn’t follow the rules.

After exploring that area of Punakaiki, we walked down the road a few hundred metres and checked out a cave found there which apparently contained glow-worms. It was pitch black, and we’d left the torch in the car, but luckily, there were a couple arriving at the same time (also from Melbourne!) who had one. Di waited at the entrance while Trav and the couple explored deeper into the cave in an effort to find some glow-worms. We did not have a lot of luck initially, and were on the way out of the cave, when Trav decided his eyes were adjusted to the low light enough to go exploring on his own, and found some (6 or 7). After a little further scrabbling in the dark, feeling his way deeper into the cave, there were another 8 discovered.

We decided that we’d grab some lunch in Greymouth and eat it at one of the many coastal stops we’d seen along the way. Unfortunately, as soon as we made this plan, we discovered that there were no more coastal stops for several kilometres, and we ended up having to drive around the back-blocks of Hokitika (the next town) to find some beach access. It has to be said that New Zealand beaches on the west coast all have the same ugly grey sand and driftwood nature - not a patch on the white sands we’re used to in Australia.

Trav almost qualified himself for SPOTD while running away from a wave and tripping over some driftwood. With the wave fast closing in, Trav threw himself off the sand and up the beach in a desperate effort not to get wet. After all, that would mean another shower, and he’d already had enough of that experience for one day.

Between Hokitika and Franz Joseph glacier, we saw a myriad of mixed farm enterprises, including two different types of deer, dairy cattle, beef cattle, ostriches, water buffalo, and - of course - the ubiquitous sheep.

Due to recent falls of ice, the terminal face (read: the big, wide, wall of ice that is the bottom end of the glacier) of Franz Joseph glacier was closed, and so we could not walk up to it. The best we could manage was a look from Sentinel Rock, which is about one kilometre from the glacier. The glacier has been retreating (although there have been a few periods of growth over time) for many years, and at one time, Sentinel Rock was under the glacier.

We had looked at the Lonely Planet guide and noted that both the townships at the bases of the Franz Joseph glacier and the Fox glacier were designed for ripping off tourists. The AA (no, no that AA! - the Automobile Association) book suggested Fox glacier township was the less-commercialised of the two, so we’d decided to drive on the extra 25km.

We had been told that for a lot of the time, Mt Cook (highest peak in NZ) is under cloud, so not to be disappointed if we didn’t see it. However, when we arrived, the sky was vivid blue, and there was no cloud obscuring the view. We went for a walk around nearby Lake Matheson and took plenty of photos of the mountains (Mt Cook on right, Mt Tasman on left) and the reflection appearing in the calm water.

Since Westport holiday park had been fully booked, and we expected it to be very cold in the tent due to the presence of snow and ice, we had booked ahead at the Fox Glacier Holiday Park (aka Alpine Motor Inn). When we’d booked, we’d asked for a $30 cabin for the night, and the woman we spoke to told us they were quite basic, and there were much newer ones for $35 which were built in 1998. We decided that for the extra $5, the better room would be worth it, so we took the $35 newer cabin.

Based on her description, we figured it would be a much better room than the basic cabins, but when we saw what we had, we had to wonder how much worse it could have been. The room contained no table and chairs (first time we’ve ever found just beds in a room), no towel rack (presumably everyone just kept their towels in a wet heap on the floor), and the wiring for the heater was just an exposed extension lead stapled to the wall. The bed, we quickly found, was also more than a year old, based on how lumpy it was, and the sheets were stained with food in one corner, showing the cleaning staff were not paying much attention to detail. All in all, VERY basic indeed, and not what we would want to spend much time in for more than one night, unless we’d brought our own clothes drying rack, and furniture.

Seeing it was 9pm, and nothing else would really be open, we decided to stick with the room, and just cook dinner and leave in the morning. Trav went into the communal kitchen to find a hotplate to cook steak on, but was unable to find one. A quick search of the tent area also failed to reveal any BBQ, so he went to the office to ask them where it was. The woman behind the counter gave a surprised look and said “oh, you didn’t ask for a room with a BBQ”. It was Trav’s turn for a surprised look as he explained he didn’t know there was a choice.

It turned out that what she meant was that because we were only paying $35 for the night, we were not paying enough money to be able to use the BBQ, because it was reserved for those people staying in the accommodation at the next higher expense level. She was really quite reluctant to let us cook on the BBQ, so Trav pointed out that he didn’t have to use it, and could instead cook the steaks inside the kitchen on two of the oven hotplates used for pots. Realising that would be a bloody awful thing to clean, she relented and we cooked our meal on the BBQ.

The final irritation was provided by the fact there were 12 new cabins, and only 3 in use. However, the 3 in use were all next to one another (we were in the middle) and they were #’s 10, 11, and 12 - all the furthest cabins from the communal bathrooms, and all involved walking right past the communal kitchen to get to the bathrooms. This was rather unpleasant in the morning, with hair sticking up, and clad in pyjamas, as we padded past families at breakfast. All in all, we cannot recommend AGAINST this particular holiday park enough - no matter how bad others are, they could not be much worse than the Fox Glacier Holiday Park.

Sitting on the lumpy bed at 11pm, Di was reading a brochure and noted there was a Glow-worm Grotto in the township, as well as a glow-worm walk just out of town, so we located a map of where they were, and headed off. It turned out that the Grotto cost $2 entry and was open from dusk to 11pm. Nobody was there when we arrived, so Trav walked in to see whether it was locked. It wasn’t, so we just went in anyway, and walked around the 50m circuit looking at the glow-worms. It was not very impressive, and we’re glad we arrived after 11pm and did not pay for entry.

After the Grotto, we went another 200m out of town to the Minnehaha Walk, which is a pleasant (20 minute return) stroll through bushland beside a creek during the day, with the bonus appearance of glow-worms at night. We took a torch to avoid falling in the creek, and wandered around for about 45 minutes, looking at the several hundred glow-worms we could see. It was far more fun on the Minnehaha walk than the Grotto for the simple reason that we got the chance to spot them ourselves, and although there were plenty of them, they were not just dished up on a plate, so to speak. A little bit of hunting always makes it more rewarding.

Onward to Christchurch tomorrow…

Categories: NZ 1999, Travel
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We were booked on the 9:30am Interislander ferry from Wellington to Picton ($46 each) this morning, so it was a slightly earlier rise than usual, in order to pack everything back into two bags for the crossing. As usual, there were many ducks in the caravan park, happily eating the bread we offered until Trav began to lace it with red wine (small amount left over that was easier to tip out than pack). None of the ducks would touch the wine-laced bread, providing evidence why ducks are not much good at Communion.

We had the choice of keeping the car and taking it on the ferry with us ($165) or leaving the car at Apex Car Rentals at one end of the trip, and picking up a different car at the other. We’ve got better things to spend the money on that taking a car, so we dropped off the car at the depot, and the people from Apex Car Rentals drove us to the ferry terminal. We checked our luggage and waited to board. The ferry began boarding at about 8:30am, in preparation for the 9:30am departure, so we decided to get on, and find some good window seats up the front of the boat.

It was here that we encountered a woman who failed to comprehend the concept of boat design. She would sit down in one seat, then change her mind and move to another. A few minutes after her husband had dutifully followed her to that seat, she would think another seat was better and change once more, telling him to follow her. It took her four seat changes before she decided they were in the best available seats, and all the time, she was asking people around her whether they were at the front of the boat, or the back. She was desperate to be at the front of the boat so they could get the best view, but she was not sure if she was at the back or the front.

Some of this confusion may have been due to the fact that when the ferry arrived, it had backed into the dock, and therefore, she might have thought they were coming in forwards from the South Island. However, as with almost every boat, there is a POINTY end, and a BLUNT end. She was at the pointy end, and all ship design diagrams on the walls indicated it was the front end. Even the dolphin logo on the ship’s body was facing forward, and since dolphins rarely swim backward, it was a safe bet we were at the front. None of this mattered though, and she kept announcing in a loud voice that she had to be at the front of the boat to get a good view.

Trav overheard her husband about 20 minutes after departure talking to the others in his group that his wife (our SPOTD) was now soundly asleep, and was admiring the view she HAD to have, through closed eyelids…

Upon arriving in Picton, we went to the rental car depot to get our replacement car and found we’d been upgraded (again!) to a larger model car because they did not have a manual Corolla (economy or touring model). Thus, at no extra cost to us, we got a more powerful Nissan Bluebird, featuring larger cabin space (which was perfect for Trav).

We had a quick look around Picton, but being a Sunday afternoon, it was mostly closed, leaving Trav to play on some playground equipment that was far too small for him. Only just managing to not get stuck inside, we decided it was time to be on our way before he had to be cut out by rescue staff.

Although we originally had a rough idea we might stay in Nelson, we were advised by the tourism staff to just drive past it to Westport on the opposite coast. This was a rather winding road, although there were large sections where it was open and flat also. New Zealand’s famous reputation for sheep farming was more obvious on this island, with a noticeable increase in sheep numbers on farms beside the road.

The road to Westport essentially followed the Buller River, and wound in between cliffs composed of many different rock sizes and colours. It also featured a large number of one-lane bridges which we had not encountered before. There are signs posted to show which traffic (ie: you or oncoming cars) have the right of way, but often the bridges were long, and impossible to see if there was a car about to come onto the bridge from the other end. Very odd indeed.

We soon learned it was more a case of common sense, and if you saw a car at the other end, it was best to slow down in case they had not seen you and both ended up on the bridge at the same time. By the end of the trip, we’d probably crossed 50% of these one-lane bridges without being able to see if anything was coming, so we’d had to proceed whether we had the right of way or not.

Just west of Murchison, we stopped and walked over the longest swing-bridge in New Zealand. As we were walking out on it, there was a couple in front of us, but the girl freaked out once she reached the section above the river and had to walk back past us to get off. The bridge was made of wire and mesh, and so was very see-through, and she didn’t like the looks of the drop below her feet. It did seem odd to freak out over the water though, because she’d made it about 30 metres out, and was over rocks the whole way. I think I’d rather fall into water than rocks, were the bridge to collapse, but then, I’d rather the bloody bridge didn’t collapse!

As we drew closer to the coast, the mountains grew more frequent, and the open flat roads were left well behind. At one point, there was a section of road that actually just cut out of the cliff face, and basically had a natural roof over the road. It was a one-lane section, and had convex mirrors installed to see around the corners, and the speed allowed was a mere 15kph, so it was a very interesting (read : “oh please don’t let anything come around the corner at us!”) section to drive on.

As we were arriving in Westport, it began to rain slightly, and so we decided that since it was $20 for a tent site, and $29 for a chalet, we’d take the chalet and enjoy the night without fear of any leaky tent roof problems. Di also pointed out that since it was a chalet, it had a pointy roof, which was tent-like, so we were still not cheating too much… When they gave us the keys to check it out, they pointed out that it was being painted on the outside, but the interior was okay. As we walked up to the building to check it out, we realised why they had told us this - obviously not to freak us out when we saw the paint splodges on the door.

After dinner, we drove down to the beach, but because it was low tide, and due to storms the previous week, there was just a large expanse of bare sand, with the high tide marked by large driftwood debris piles. Not at all appealing, and as we found out later, typical of the beaches on the South Island.

Onward to the glaciers tomorrow…

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After a comfortable night’s sleep in a bed, we headed south, around Lake Taupo to Turangi. The drive was not a pleasant one because it was a very narrow and winding road including several 35kph corners, and there were many logging trucks ahead of us, slowing things down. Nonetheless, after more than an hour, we managed to get to our turn-off and the trucks all continued to go straight ahead (yay!).

Heading for the village of Whakapapa, we stopped on the way to have a look at some rapids and a waterfall, with Trav managing to play on the rocks and cross the stream several times without falling in.

Due to the delay in the morning on the drive around the lake, we were unable to go on one of the 8-hour hikes through the mountains surrounding the village. That’s our excuse, and we’re sticking with it. No possible chance that we were not up to the challenge of an 8-hour hike, no sirree…*grin* We decided to take in the Taranaki Falls, which were a 2.5 hour hike, and set off on our jaunt.

The terrain was quite steep in parts, and we crossed the same stream on a number of occasions. The vegetation pattern was also quite odd in that we saw mostly metre-high grassy plants, but when there was a stream or other water source, tall beech trees were growing for about 20 metres either side of the bank. At that distance from the water, the beech trees immediately stopped, and the grassy vegetation was all that could survive. Throughout the hike, we could see showers approaching us the whole time, and thought we were going to get quite wet, but they veered away and missed us in the end, which was fortunate. Or unfortunate, since we’d carried coats around unnecessarily, and they were heavy.

After the hike, we continued southward to Wellington, via some very steep and winding hills, which was great fun in the rain. After all, what more do you want than wet, slippery roads, several 35kph curves and sheer cliffs at the road’s edge?

The roads were beginning to get rather dull in their monotony for corners, so it was a bit of a relief to come around a corner and nearly clean up a lot of sheep. Some farmers were moving sheep down the road, and we estimated there were about 700-800 of them, bouncing frantically on the bitumen, trying to keep up with their friends. As the moving carpet of sheep began to thin out toward the last of the animals, we noticed one of them must have fallen over, and then been stomped on by several dozen of it’s colleagues. Lying in the middle of the road, it was temporarily stunned, and kicking it’s legs in a desperate attempt to stand up, but it was too groggy to work out which way was up. It all looked very funny - kind of like a cartoon where Fred Flintstone gets trampled by a mad rush of teenagers chasing their idol or something.

After that, we continued down the same sort of winding road for about another 30kms, and came around a corner to find two pigs strolling peacefully down the side of the road. They were walking on the correct side of the road to be aware of oncoming traffic, so there must be a good traffic rules program for pigs over in NZ. Since there was nobody following us, we pulled up on the side of the road and jumped out to have a look. As soon as they saw the car pull up, they ran over to our side of the road and began to look at us, as much as we were looking at them. We were quite surprised to find they were not afraid of us in the slightest, walking up to within a few feet of the car and snuffling about, seeing if we would offer them a ride, or at the very least, some food. After they worked out we were not going to be their saviours, they lost a little interest, and crossed back to the safer side of the road, and continued on their way.

We pulled into Wellington about 8:30pm and set up camp (hurrah for daylight savings!) in the local caravan park, before heading down the street to get some dinner from the supermarket. The supermarket we chose was one called “Pak N Save”, but the Kiwi accent means it is often pronounced “puckensuv”. Again, we noticed the even distribution of alcohol throughout the supermarket, and the many bins of food where you could just buy one cupful of flour, sugar, cereal, nuts, raisins, etc. It is a system we’d like to see introduced in Australia, because there are many times when you only want to buy a little bit of something for a recipe.

It was at this supermarket where we found our SPOTD. Loading the groceries into the car, we were astonished to see a young guy on a bicycle race through the car park toward an abandoned shopping trolley, grab it by the handle and continue out the car park and down the road with it. Why anyone would want to steal a shopping trolley at 10pm mid-week is beyond us, and more baffling is the choice of getaway vehicle. For sheer idiocy, this fellow won the award with less than two hours remaining in the day.

Onward to the South Island tomorrow…

Categories: NZ 1999, Travel
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It needs to be said here that this day was a veritable GOLDMINE for entrants in the SPOTD award.

We began our day with a visit to the Whakarewarewa thermal park ($18NZD each) in the centre of Rotorua, which is a large area containing more spectacular geysers and boiling mud than the surrounding area. The site is also set up as a Maori arts training centre, and there are several Maori buildings set up for tourists to walk through.

Guided tours began at 10:00am, so we went for a wander around the place by ourselves, to fill in the hour before we got the official version. There had not been a lot of rain in the Rotorua area recently, and so the boiling mud we saw was not streaming like it does when it has a higher moisture content, but it was definitely plopping happily away. Some of the mud was leaving the ground and being thrown up to 2 feet away, so it was still quite interesting to watch.

The Pohutu geyser is a continuous gush of hot water and steam leaving the ground in impressive fashion. As the water leaves the ground, it is just below boiling (98C), running over rocks to enter the stream below at a comfortable 34-38C. This geyser also helped us in our quest to find our SPOTD, which will be elaborated on further through this page.

As we walked through the thermal area, we were struck by the radiant heat. It had not occurred to us, despite being quite obvious once we thought about it, that ground hot enough to have boiling water and mud at the surface was going to be warm. There was about a 6-8C temperature difference between the general temperature inside the park compared to outside, we estimated, and made us very warm indeed.

At 10:00am, we went back up to the main entrance to go on the guided tour. It was at this time we realised that Whakarewarewa not actually the official name of the site we were at. It was actually an abbreviated form of Whakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahio - which translated into something about a chief (named “aawahio”) and an “uprising of the war parties”.

The Maori arts training centre was explained as a place where men aged 18-30 could come and do a three-year course in carving, and women in the same age group could come and learn how to weave clothes over the same time period. Only Maori people were allowed to enrol, and a “teaspoon-full” of Maori blood was enough to satisfy the requirements, but you had to be able to show where the “teaspoon-full” came from.

Our guide was showing us around a gallery of carvings and heard a distinctive tap-tap-tapping noise in the next room where the carving took place. She instructed us to walk through a certain doorway and we would be able to watch carving in process. We all dutifully followed her instructions and walked into the room, only to find - two blokes fixing a door handle on the office in there… Although Di and Trav found this to be hilarious, we found it even more amusing when some people whipped out cameras and actually took pictures of them fixing the door…

After a tour through the rest of the village, we jumped on board a little shuttle-train thing called a Whaka and went for a ride around the park we had walked around earlier. It was during this twenty minute period that we were bombarded with people all wanting the title of SPOTD, explained in greater detail at the end.

After our tour, we departed Rotorua and headed south for Taupo. On the way there, we stopped at a geothermal power station, which had an enormous chimney that could be seen for miles before we got close to the turnoff.

We also stopped at a free (yes, something touristy that cost nothing!) thermal area known as Craters of the Moon. Personally, we think they looked nothing like craters on the moon, but still, they were big holes in the ground, so it’s a good a name as any for the place. There were boardwalks to get around on, to prevent people from suddenly sinking into soft ground and getting scalded because apparently new vents were opening all the time. There was originally only one vent in the area before a large power station began operations in the mid 1950’s and started drawing down the groundwater. With less water to heat, the boiling process was made easier and new vents began to appear all over the place, so it is technically a thermal park that exists because of human intervention.

Upon reaching Taupo, we grabbed lunch and headed north again to Orakei Karako (about 20 minutes north), which we had driven past on the way down, but we knew it as “Hidden Valley”, so had not realised we’d gone past it. It was another thermal park, similar to Whakarewarewa, but with far less commercialism. It cost $17 each, and contained geysers, boiling water and bubbling mud, plus a short ferry ride across the river to get to it. The thermal features were similar to Whakerewarewa, but at the same time, quite different. The colours at Orakei Karako were quite vivid, ranging from gold, red, green, blue, white, brown, tan, and orange, compared to the dull brown colour predominant at Whakerewarewa. These colours, coupled with the lack of idiots, and peaceful walks through the native bushland made it far better value for our money, so we’d recommend it over the more commercial version in Rotorua.

Due to a bit of rain, and more forecast, we upgraded our accommodation from a tent to a cabin, so as not to get wet all night. We arrived on the right night because the following night was the beginning of a weekend-long cycling festival in the town and our cabin would cost $100 for the night, not $39 which we paid. For that, we got everything supplied except linen (7 beds, all plates, cooking utensils, glasses, plates, cutlery, table and chairs, etc). We also got a discount to the thermal pools across the road, and so we went and had a swim in one of the private pools (~ 8′ x 6′ in size), but it was so hot that we had to get out before the 20 minute limit was up.

Now we reach the SPOTD award section.

Our first entrant was an American tourist sitting opposite us in the Whaka shuttle. He was lowering himself into the seat, when he suddenly froze about two inches above the seat and exclaimed in a loud voice : “Oh! I’d best be careful not to sit down on my floppy!”. We looked at each other in amusement and snickered quietly away when he pulled a floppy disk for his digital camera out of his back pocket. For some reason, he never picked up on the fact that what he had just said could be taken two ways, and seemed quite puzzled by our hilarity. We immediately decided that anyone who could produce a line like that had to be our SPOTD, but as it turned out, he was to be outdone minutes later.

Entrant #3 for the title was a second American tourist talking to his friends as we walked back to the main entrance after the tour. They were deciding what to do next, and organising their plans, as he asked (in the traditional obnoxious American tourist loud voice) “What time was the midday Maori concert again?”. Now, I think we’ve all seen the email which lists stupid questions and comments to park rangers, and one of them is “What time does the 9 o’clock train leave?”. Until this day, I figured that was a made-up question, but now, thanks to entrant #3 for SPOTD, I know that such a mentally-deficient question is possible.

Entrant #4 for the title was a local girl, and our first Kiwi entrant of the trip. At the bakery in Taupo where we stopped for lunch, she managed to get completely confused doing some simple mathematics to work out the bill, despite using an automated cash register. She added up what we’d purchased and asked for $6.20, whereupon Trav handed over $10.20 to pay for it. She took the money, and worked out that we were somehow supposed to receive $4.80 change. Trav corrected her on it, and we had to go through it twice before she would believe that was only $4.00 difference between $10.20 offered and the $6.20 charge. It was not until we got out of the store that Di pointed out the other problem with her mathematical talents. According to her,

$2.90 + $2.90 + $1.60 + $1.60 = $6.20

so she was certainly not having a very good day at all, and qualified herself for the SPOTD.

The more astute among you will realise that there was no entrant #2 listed above. This fellow was left until last because all the stupidity above was not not enough to take the title role on offer. We encountered him at the Whakarewarewa thermal park in between the two American tourists, and this entry was also from a tourist, although he was Japanese, on what appeared to be a bus tour. As mentioned earlier, walking around the thermal park, one was certainly aware that there was a great deal of heat involved, with the ground feeling warm to the touch, and steam blowing everywhere, making it feel like a sauna. At times, the steam coming off the Pohutu geyser was thick enough that we could not see through it, as the heated solution mixed with the cooler air.

All throughout the park, there were wooden safety rails to prevent people from falling into boiling mud pools, or getting too close to steam vents, for our own protection. This Japanese fellow did not even seem to notice the safety rails though, and as he walked toward the Pohutu geyser, it was a fluid motion from walking to climbing the rails in order to get a closer view. I am sure we’ve all been somewhere in a park or near a cliff where there is a safety rail and one person just HAS to get on the danger side of it. Usually though, they walk up to the rail, have a look each way and then climb over. This fellow did not even seem to notice the rail (or the steam!) and it was a smooth fluid transition from walking, to being on the other side, about to wander up to the geyser.

Fortunately for him, his group noticed and yelled to him, stopping him just inches from putting his foot down in ankle-deep 80C water, which would have scalded him quite horribly. They had to keep talking to him for about 30 seconds and he was arguing the toss with them, obviously saying that he just wanted to get a better look, before he finally (and unhappily) climbed back over to the correct side. SPOTD? I think we have our winner. Nothing could top this for the day, and the other three entrants were unfortunately losers to this fellow. On another day, they could have won the title, but the standard was just too high for them on this day.

Onward to Wellington tomorrow…

Categories: NZ 1999, Travel
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Heading south from Manakau, we cruised down a lovely open, flat, straight motorway that was literally dotted with dozens of accident sites. The sites were marked with white crosses, and we estimated we saw just under 100 of them, on what appeared to us to be a perfectly safe road. There were a few crosses located on bends in the road that perhaps could have been dangerous at high speeds, but many of them were located on sections where it was straight and open viewing for a kilometre in either direction.

We drove into Hamilton and bought some lunch there, eating it in a park. While we were sitting there, a fellow came out of one of the offices and started to preach (read : yell at passersby) the good word of the Lord and hand out leaflets. There was an old man (about 80yo) near him and when the suit-clad 40yo finished his preaching, the old fellow took over and tried to hand out leaflets. After a while though, he was forced to give up as a large group of freakishly dressed people representing the McGillicuddy Party arrived and blasted trumpets, and banged on drums and sang some weird song. We’re not exactly sure what the McGillicuddy Party is, but since it was election time in NZ, we assume they are a joke party set up for the express purpose of getting down to parks at lunchtime on stilts, dressed like clowns, in order to play the trumpet…

We departed just as they really got going, and continued our southward travel for a short distance. Just south of Hamilton though, Trav spotted some large cartoon cows standing in a field beside the road and so we had to stop and get a picture of them.

Another stretch of driving brought us to the township of Otorohanga, which is the home of the Otorohanga Kiwi House. We decided to stop and have a look, since we saw no other way to get up close and personal to the well-known icon of New Zealand, other than wriggling through dense undergrowth in the middle of the night, without making a sound. We paid our money to go in ($8 each), and Di’s eyes lit up at the sight of a small basket containing duck food for $0.25 per bag. Obviously there were ducks somewhere out there in the remainder of the bird house, so we had to get some duck food as well.

Luckily one of the three kiwis was right up the front of the enclosure, because the other two up the back were nearly invisible against the dark brown background of the walls. The enclosure was set up as a nocturnal house, and brown birds on brown leaf litter against brown walls are not easy to see through tinted windows.

Once out of the kiwi house and back into the light, we made our way to the pond where we found the ducks would eat the food if we placed it in the palms of our hands. There were a couple of ducks that would frantically try to get as much of the food as possible, and if fingers got in the road, so be it. Fortunately, ducks don’t have a mouth full of teeth, so it was more of a surprise to get a nip than actual pain. Di later admitted that she was glad the kiwi was first because the ducks were better value.

There were several other birds in the park, such as falcons, harriers, owls, wekas, keas (large parrot), and kakas (looked almost the same as keas) which had been injured and brought to the park for medical aid. Ultimately, most birds in the park were destined to be released back into the wild, so the entry fees were going to a worthy cause, in our view.

At the Waitomo Caves, we found our first really good Kiwi accent with the guide showing us through the place, and secretly giggled each time she pronounced “cave” as “cuv”. There are many stalagtites and stalagmites within the cave, but the main reason they are famous is for the resident glowworms. These glowworms use bioluminescence to create a light source at the end of their tail, which attracts other insects toward them, mistaking it for daylight and a possible exit. Below each glowworm are a series of sticky threads that catch these flying insects and provide food for the glowworms.

After wandering through the cave formations, we boarded a boat on the stream that flows through the cave, and moved slowly under thousands of little glowworms on the roof and walls around us. We were told at the beginning of the ride that glowworms may go duller as a result of noise and light, so we had to be very quiet. Naturally, not all members of the population could understand this, and it was here that we found our SPOTD.

Actually, it was an entire family of two adults and two children that chattered the whole way through the boat ride and back. While everyone else in the boat was dead silent, as the guide quietly pulled the boat along using ropes (no motor because of the noise), these people did not shut up from the start to the end of the ride, spoiling the natural silence for everyone else. Dirty looks from ourselves and other members of the tour group failed to shut them up, so SPOTD rights were awarded to them.

The original plan was to stay at Waitomo for the night and then head off to Rotorua the following morning, but there were several hours of daylight remaining, so we changed plans and decided to move on this evening. We had been warned about the smell of Rotorua, due to the thermal activity, and we were expecting the worst. However, it was not until we were within the 60kph town speed zone that we could detect any odour. The smell also did not pervade the entire town, and we wondered why it was that the town was not moved 500 metres to the north, as there seemed to be steam and heat, but no hydrogen sulfide smell.

We set up camp quickly at the Cosy Cottage Holiday Park, although we chose not to take the option of the unique heated tent sites. Basically, the ground is so warm that grass will not grow on the surface, so these sites are easy to tell. The other technique for determining whether it is a heated site or not is to stick a tent peg in the ground for two minutes. When you pull it out, it should feel hot to the touch. Our peg was sort of warm, but it was good enough for us, and we pitched the tent.

We had decided to go and see one of the Maori concerts held each night, and we headed for Tamaki Tours because they’d been recommended by the Lonely Planet guidebook. This group has set up a pre-settlement Maori village which you walk through to get to the other buildings. Due to poor signage at the place, we missed the first five minutes of the tour, where there is a “challenge” (basically a bunch of Maori people screaming at you in a welcoming way), which officially makes you visitors to the village, and you are allowed to enter.

When we arrived, we went straight in to the village and followed the crowd as they wandered around the most cringe-worthy, god-awful excuse for entertainment we’ve seen in a long, long time. Basically the village was full of little huts, and in front of each hut were one or two Maori people, doing something traditional, such as doing a dance, or making spears, or singing. With a couple of hundred people (predominantly American and German bus tour groups) walking around, pointing and taking pictures of them, it felt like a sick zoo, where they lost their status as humans, and were regarded as animals. Perhaps if each component had been explained in some way, it might have been better, but as it was, it caused us to really wince in sorrow for the spectacle they were treated as.

After about 15 minutes, they stopped what they were doing, and headed down to a larger hut where one of them welcomed us officially in Maori, there was a bit of a concert, and some explanation of the weapons used in traditional Maori warfare. This was far more interesting than the previous component, as each one was described in detail. There was a small club, looking like a ping-pong bat that would at first glance seem relatively harmless, but was used by slamming it into your opponent’s temple and removing the crown of their head, in close hand-to-hand combat. Another spear was not thrown, but was instead used to deflect incoming thrusts of other spears and clubs, and when the chance arose, to disembowel your opponent. Charming…

From this part of the night, we moved on into the main hall where we were able to load our plates full with meat and vegetables cooked underground in a hangi. With potatoes, carrots, lamb, sweet potatoes, chicken, and fish, we were more than sated, and that was before the delicious pudding for dessert.

While talking to people working at the Tamaki village, we worked out there were two shows per night, and in the high season, there were four shows per night. A quick count of heads resulted in an estimate of 250 people in our group, and not all seats were filled. Even so, assuming 4 shows per night, 7 nights per week, with 250 people per show, each paying $58, that works out to a total of $58,000 per night, or just over $400,000 per week. We seriously doubt that the costs for running a show like that can really be anywhere near that figure, so it’s quite obvious the tourists are being milked for all they’re worth…

Back at the caravan park, we went for a walk down to the nearby lake and dug a hole in the sand about two feet from the water’s edge. About a foot down, the water that collected in the hole was too hot to touch, and the sand was very hot, yet the water in the lake was cool. Obviously the volumes involved were quite different, but it was still odd to have such ground warmth so close to the surface.

Onward to Taupo tomorrow…

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After booking the tickets way back in mid-August, it was finally time to depart Australia and jump the “big ditch” to see the land on the other side of the Tasman. When we got to the airport, we had no idea on what to expect, seeing as it was the first time either of us had ever left the country, despite having travelled a great deal within it.

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