Epilogue: The day my life changed forever in a toilet.

It had only been twenty seconds when I glanced down. How could I have known what I was about to see? But I was already shaking. And then, there they were. Two bold, blazing blue lines screaming back at me. My feet sunk into the grubby floor. Disinfectant and someone else’s urine raged in my nostrils. Surely I was being lied to. The plastic wasn’t telling the truth, it couldn’t be. Could it? 

I got back in the van. My hand barely able to open the door. Ollie looked at me, his face long, empty and grey; it must have been projecting mine. 

‘What did it say?’

‘I’m pregnant.’ The words flew from my mouth as if I was throwing them up. I felt sick. I had imagined this moment endlessly, over and over for the last three years. Every time four weeks of crossed fingers passed. Every time Ollie and I had held each other and begged for a child. Every time a family passed me in the street. And every time I had imagined it, it had been nothing like this. There was no speech, no loving words, no tears of happiness, no clutching each other and squealing. Nothing. Only Ollie managed the tinniest of disbelieving smiles as he lent across and gave me a peck on the cheek I didn’t feel. Nothing. Because this wasn’t what I had planned. This wasn’t the right time, the place or even the bloody continent. Not for this. Not now. 

Rain splashed down over the window screen as grey clouds and a storm rolled in. The weather really can reflect ones mood. I don’t know how long we sat there, in the car park to Geraldine’s public toilets (Who names a town Geraldine?!), but it didn’t feel long enough. In fact at that point I never wanted to move again. I wanted to be frozen in time. Actually I wanted to go back. Go back to half an hour before when we purchased the test to ‘rule out the possibility’, go back, go back. I was in shock. We both were. There was no way we could have imagined this would happen. For three years there had never been anything so what was suddenly so different now? And why now? Why when we were thousands of miles away from home had this happened? I began to cry. And I couldn’t stop. Up until now those two lines were all I’d ever wanted, since the day I married Ollie. Yet now I had them I wasn’t happy at all. What the hell were we going to do now?

* * *

The drive up to the foot of Mount Cook had of course been a glorious one. Back in the mountains and spectacular scenery we had grown accustomed to was a wonderful relief. After a brief look round the visitor’s centre grabbing a bit of knowledge, we set off for a walk through the foothills and mini glaciers. Just as we set off we heard huge cracking and crashes that echoed around us. Scrambling up a mound of rocks we looked up to see snow tumbling down a far off mountain. We were witnessing an avalanche! I’ve always wanted to see one ever since I saw that moment in the film ‘Seven Brides for Seven Brothers’!! Mount cook was surrounded by a thick whirl of cloud but we imagined it to be extremely high and very pointed. Well I did anyway...

I enjoyed the trek through the rocks following the mini streams of melted snow and ice but my mind was mostly elsewhere. Something didn’t feel quite right. I couldn’t make it out but something in me just felt off. I was having trouble keeping up with Ollie because my balance was all over the place and my mind constantly dived off into obscurity so I had trouble concentrating. Deciding it must be a little apprehension about the next leg of our trip I tried to focus on being excited for Australia and send out positive thoughts that we would find a job and wouldn’t run out of money.

That evening we drove up to lake Tekapo and parked up at the edge of the lake for the night. We were in the middle of nowhere, it was pitch black and I didn’t get much sleep. For some reason I kept imaging we would be eaten by wolves. Where the wolves were going to come from I have no idea! In the morning we found a great little cafe that served amazing breakfasts and not unusually for New Zealand, fantastic coffee. We were very much looking forward to spending the day at Tekapo hot springs and having a bit of a relax. 

There was a small ice rink at the springs and we spent the first hour skating. Well it was mainly me trying to pull Ollie over while he stumbled around. He is not the best ice skater I’ve ever known, he looks so awkward! The springs were beautifully hot and we stayed in them for ages. However once again I had this nagging feeling and didn’t like spending too much time in the very hot water. This made no sense as usually I love it the most. Again, something just didn’t feel right. After a random encounter with a guy filming an online t.v show that promotes New Zealand and agreeing to be in part of his film, we had some lunch and I drank three bottles of ginger beer. Over the last few days I had fostered quite an obsession for that particular fizzy drink. That evening we camped once more by the enormous lake. Surrounded by mountains it was a magnificent mass of water that could quite easily steal your gaze for hours. As we sat playing yet another game of cards we didn’t know yet, but the next day, our lives were going to change forever.

* * *

Our last weekend in New Zealand was the perfect way to say goodbye to the astounding country that had been our home for so many months now. Nirvisha flew down to see us and we spent a couple of days up in Kaikoura, seal watching, eating, and reminiscing about all the fun the three of us had had. Saying goodbye to her at the airport was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. In such a short time we had become so close and I really had no idea how I would go without being able to see her. We told her about the little life that had just started to grow and although obviously surprised, she was of course delighted. A few months before I had spilt my heart and told her how much I would love a child so she understood immediately how much this was going to mean to Ollie and me.

Four days after we discovered I was pregnant, Ollie and I boarded a plane home. Still in shock and with a little disbelief we made the long journey home. Our travels had come to such an abrupt end that there was no time yet to be sad or to acknowledge what we were going to miss out on, our minds now fixed firmly on the future with curious excitement as to what was about to happen. We had been away from home for nine months. What a difference that time can make!

* * *

On 25th April 2013, Reuben Oliver was born. A magnificent chunky little miracle that Ollie and I had created. To us he was an amazing surprise and yet perhaps someone had been planning this all along. You see, whilst we were traveling, Ollie and I had once agreed that we would honestly give up everything if only we could have a child. And it would appear that prayer was answered...

7/6/13

Where ever she goes she'll always smell chocolate...

With another ‘busy day of places we had seen on the map and decided to visit’ ahead of us, we set off early and had soon reached our first stop. Jack’s Blowhole. O.k. so we only wanted to go there because we thought it would be funny to take a picture of the name for my brother but still it might be worth a look! The blowhole was cut off from the sea and 200m inland. A sharp drop down and not very wide the water lurks below. I’m guessing that at high tide it spits a bit but as Ollie and I never catch blow holes at the appropriate time, nothing dramatic was going on.

By now we were not too far from Dunedin so we decided to head straight for ‘the biggest city in Otago’ and immerse ourselves in the most people we would have been surrounded by since Wellington! We arrived to a murky rainy city that is one of those places that probably doesn’t look too wonderful in the sun anyway but really looks bad in the rain. The mish mash of architecture from Edwardian to occasional Art Deco to industrial steel, urgh, was not  really to my taste and although the Cathedral was good looking enough, I have to say it, the city itself didn’t get me going much. And if you’re thinking ‘but no city looks great’ then I would direct you to Auckland or Boston to name just two cities that I find very attractive. But to give Dunedin some credit, it is one of the oldest areas in New Zealand, has played a vital role in the country’s history and does boast some of the oldest buildings. So fair play to it!

There is another thing Dunedin has that no other town or city in New Zealand has, and that is a castle. Incidentally although everywhere in the city wants to sell you Scottish food, tartan or bagpipe playing teddy bears, we never did find out exactly what the Scottish roots of the place were. But I’m guessing it had something to do with the first people to arrive. So back to the castle. As Ollie and I drove up a small road through foggy hills that felt very Scottish indeed, we both questioned there being a Castle in New Zealand at all. Because as far as our ‘extensive’ history knowledge went, New Zealand wasn’t found by the British until the mid 1800’s and we were pretty damn sure ‘Castling times’ were long over by then. And by ‘Castling times’ I mean the century in which Castles found their prominence. So why on earth was a castle built? What was its purpose? And in general, just why full stop. 

And we were about to find out. Unable to catch a glimpse of the stone building hidden within a shadowy glen (see what I did there) of pine trees and mist we rolled up to the main gate. At first glance the entry price looked to be $7 and I thought that was o.k. Second glance told us it was $27 and both Ollie and I were in disbelief at that ridiculous price! And they had been so cunning about it too those castle keepers. They had put the pay booth way up the drive so you couldn’t even drive in see the castle do a ‘Uie’ and leave. Oh no. If you wanted to see New Zealand’s only ruddy castle you had to pay, just for the mere sight of it. To that Ollie and I spat a giant ‘Yeah right’ and turned our van around. With heckles of ‘What d’you need a castle for anyway’, ‘It wasn’t even built in real castling times’ and ‘We’ve got loads of REAL ones in England so we don’t need yours’ we triumphantly sped away. It was quite a patriotic moment in the van as we celebrated all the British Castles we could think of and the fact that they had been used properly. Later on I read that Lanarch Castle had been built by some Scot as a present for his wife. It only took three years to build and it’s not even that big. So New Zealand you can keep your ‘trophy castle’ ‘cos we got the real deal back home!

After the castle debacle we decided to go in search of some more nature because that had never let us down. There was an Albatross centre at the end of the peninsular beyond Dunedin. Named the Otago Peninsular, it is a pretty long one and takes ages to drive along but the road runs right along the water so it’s quite nice. After forty minutes we eventually got up the last hill and parked outside the centre. I knew we wouldn’t see an Albatross but I did want to learn more about those massive birds. But the centre was closed. And not just for the day but for the last three months and until October. And no one thought to put a ‘closed sticker’ over the sign post forty minutes back there. Well done. And to make things worse, the cliff walk that’s also sign posted was shut off too due to something or other and when we tried not to feel too annoyed and drive up to the little cafe and wildlife tour place a bit further up...that was closed too! What a gigantic waste of time and fuel! Ollie was more than a little frustrated and so was I. So far our day had revolved around pathetic castles and pointless driving.

Determined not to let our day be entirely wasted we drove alllll the way back round to Dunedin and decided to get an early night (it was now almost dark) so that we could fit lots of fun things in the following day to make up for the rainy, soggy rubbish one. As we were following a lorry round a bend, two of its tires suddenly flew off and went bouncing down the road. One smacked into a street lamp with such force that it smashed the light which came crashing to the ground. The other tyre sped across the road and it was so lucky no other cars were coming because that tyre would have taken them out. For something so big and heavy those tires could move! And that was about the most exhilarating moment of our day!

Thinking our disappointing day was at an end we parked up at a ‘tree and a bench’ and made dinner. But then loads of cars started turning up and we realised we must have stopped in the main ‘smoke a quiet joint spot’ and not wanting to get mistaken for being part of that by a Policeman we got back in the front and drove off. What followed was two hours of driving, getting lost, bad map reading by Amy, shouting at the sat nav, shouting at the dark, shouting at cars, the campsite we headed for not existing and finally finding a lay-by in front of someone’s house about 20Km out of Dunedin that we gave up and stopped in. By the time we got into bed neither of us were in a good mood and were both desperate for the day to be over. Tired and grumpy we fell asleep.

* * *

Awake in the dark and driving away before any angry locals spotted where we had spent the night, Ollie and I headed back to Dunedin. After the day before we were both in need of something nice to cheer us up and both agreed that breakfast would probably be it. Sitting in a cafe waiting for our food we both looked a lot happier. Ollie had the proverbial cooked breakfast and I had blueberry pancakes with tons of maple syrup and a fruit salad hidden in the middle. And it was all very yummy! Instantly refreshed and ready for the day, we drove over to the Railway Station where a Farmer’s Market is held every Saturday morning. Absolute suckers for a market we both agreed to try and not spend too much. But then we saw a guy selling beer and cider from an organic brewery and we smelled the fresh bread just down the way and saw how cheap apples were and then a man shouted at us from a cheese stand.

‘You two, over here!’. It would have been rude to ignore him. For the next two minutes this guy shoved huge bits of different cheeses into our mouths and completely cheesed us out, which was impressive! I wasn’t a massive fan of his style of cheeses but the Blue was tasty. There was one cheese he said was named after his mother but unfortunately I didn’t realise and scoffed ‘Urgh I don’t like this one’ before Ollie shoved me in the back and I looked up to see the man looking s bit hurt and hurriedly tasting it to prove it was o.k. Oopsie! Never insult a man’s Mum or his cheese. Well done Amy. Anyway we bought a chunk (Not of the Ruby) and Ollie rushed us away.

Just across from the market was an old brick factory building with Cadburys written in bright purple on the side. Dunedin is home to the first of the Southern Hemisphere’s Cadbury’s factories. So naturally I insisted we paid a visit. Neither of us have had a chance to go to the one in Birmingham yet so this was like a pre visit. The factory is only small and although all the chocolate used to be produced and distributed from there, Australia now makes some of it too. A nice old lady in purple dungarees took us on a tour and although we couldn’t go onto the factory floor as it was closed on Saturdays (boo), she was full of history, free samples and random facts. In one room we got a little pill cup full of liquid chocolate to eat and then she gave us another one! It was surprisingly filling even for me but I was impressed we got two when usually on a tour of something you only get miniscule tasters. The best part though was going inside a giant silo and seeing a gigantic chocolate waterfall come to deafening life before our eyes. Awesomeness!

Next we walked across the city to the Speight’s beer site and signed up for a tour. Speight’s was formed by three guys, a Yorkshireman, a Scot and a guy from Devon, who set up the first brewery that became the biggest in New Zealand. James Speight, who the company was named after, was from Wakefield and ‘quite the character’ as people used to say. Our guide was the great grandson of the Devonshire man and probably in his late sixties himself. He was a fantastic guy who was so passionate about the company and loved telling us all the stories and jokes. Workers of the brewery did and still do get free beer all shift but they get sacked if they’re ever caught drunk and unable to carry on work! At the end of the tour we went into a tiny bar and got to pour our own glasses. We had about half an hour to chat in the bar and during that time we were allowed to refill our glasses with any of the five varieties as much as we wanted! Ollie was very over excited about that!

Our day in Dunedin had been much more of a success at our second attempt and we left the city feeling warm (the beer) and happy, but glad to be back in the wilderness. Up the coast are the Moeraki boulders. Large spherical rocks that can be found just sitting on the beach and in the sea. They look like malteasers. Formed in some complicated way under ground (all geology stuff) and then gradually revealed through the surrounding rocks being worn away, these rocks look pretty weird. It’s not often you see such a smooth round rock that is not manmade! The rain was back again as we began our drive north and to Mount Cook, the highest mountain in New Zealand. Back into the land of mountains, lakes and wow we go...

3/8/12

Southland: A let down?

After the dramatic landscape of the west coast, entering The Southlands was always going to be a bit of a change for us but it hit me harder than I had anticipated. Suddenly the peaks, forests and snow were gone and in their place was just miles and miles of farm land. And sheep. So many sheep. People always joke about New Zealand being full of sheep but up until then Ollie and I had seen hardly any. Now though after a few days in the Southlands we have seen enough to keep us going for a good while! I’m not saying the landscape wasn’t picturesque, it was. The rugged coastal beaches, the rough seas, the trees bent backwards from the wind and the lolloping green hills were all pleasant enough but they weren’t...well they weren’t the Southern Alps! And as we drove into the evening we were both a little quiet. There can never be disappointment when one is travelling just a silent acknowledgment that after what we’d had the privilege to witness, anything else might not ever seem quite so spectacular again. So we agreed to leave the West in the West and move on to accepting and enjoying our new surroundings. Not forgetting, just packing our memories before they turned into longings. We have far too much still to see of the world before we start to long for particular parts of it again.

That night we stayed next to a gusty beach and fell asleep to the crashing waves. At sunrise we took a walk across the sand and got the smell of salt tangled in our hair. We had planned to visit a nearby lighthouse and find the most southern point of the island so that we would have then travelled the entire length of New Zealand. A pretty cool achievement! The Lighthouse had been erected after a terrible ship wreck on the rocks nearby that had killed over 100 passengers as they were travelling to Melbourne from perhaps Dunedin although I can’t remember exactly. Anyway after the tragedy, locals petitioned to get the lighthouse built so that no more lives would have to be lost. Just down the beach was a huge flock of sea gulls mooching about and as we got closer to see what they were doing (obviously Ollie was the most interested), the horrific smell of rotting fish struck from nowhere and hardly able to breath we had to move away. It was literally the strongest strain of that stink I’ve ever known. It took over every part of us so that I kept ‘re-smelling’ it for ages after. I was so glad we didn’t have a dog with us that would have wanted to go and roll about in it! I liked the Oyster Catchers with their long bright orange beaks that looked very cool with their jet black feathers. I wasn’t too fussed with the sea gulls ‘cos they’re just annoying where ever you are! 

We left the smell and continued down to Slope Point. This is where the south tip can be found and there is a signpost to mark the area. Far less of a good looking place than Cape Regina but just as windy! In fact the whole of the south coast is just a massive place of wind! We were blown back across the fields just as fast as we had arrived and were soon back in the van and heading to our next ‘place of interest’!

One of only three accessible in the world, the Petrified Forest (arghhhhhh) along the coast from Invercargill is a great piece of geology. Formed when a forest by the sea was flooded by ash from a nearby erupting volcano, the trees were buried and in only a month, petrified (arghhhh). Petrified Forests (arghhhh) are so rare because to be created, petrification of wood needs to happen in a very short and fast period of no more than around thirty days. Minerals from the ash fill up the trees and replace the wood particles so that although we could see what looked like wooden tree trunks, they were in fact fossils of them. The tide was in but we could see lots of tree stumps and planks lying about the rocks and it was quite an odd place. What looked to be wood would just appear out of a rock face and hollow tree stumps sat up in the sea looking like burst acne. 

Although Ollie and I found the Petrified Forest (arghhhh) ever so interesting we did spend most of the time screaming every time one of us said Petrified Forest (arghhhh) and both giggling like idiots constantly. My consoling thought however was that if my Dad had been with us he would have done exactly the same!

Our final visit of the day was to a waterfall called Mclennan Falls. A short walk up a very slippery rock path through the woods brought us to the basin of the pretty falls. It was an unimposing place but worth a look. What struck me was how dirty the water looked. It was so brown and nothing like the glacial rivers and lakes we had been drooling at a few days earlier. Ollie assured me it was algae causing the discoloration and not dirty water but as the browny yellow spilled over the rocks it washed a lot of the beauty away with it. 

Driving to find a place to sleep, I noticed ‘Niagara Falls’ written on our map and utterly intrigued we found our way to it. Hilariously we got out the car by a muddy bank to find a sign that read ‘Niagara Falls’ and behind it was the tiniest drop in the river where the water fell about five centimeters off a big smooth rock. According to the information, some guy had thought it would be really funny to name that place ‘Niagara Falls’ back in the late 1800’s. The river had been the main supply route for wool, but to me this seemed the equivalent of transporting goods in the local brook!  Yeah. Really funny. So glad we went 20Km out of our way funny. But I suppose it’s the kind of thing I’d do!

1/8/12

Sound or Fiord? What's the difference?

The drive to Milford Sound is a long one and a one way route so as you make your way through the forests you hope that what’s at the end is worth the 200Km round trip. Along the way you can’t just park up for the night, there are designated campsites dotted along the road. They are supposed to cost $6 per person, a night, but when all that there is,is a toilet that hasn’t been cleaned since it was first erected and a mossy patch of gravel it’s hard to part with your money. We decided to pretend we were on ‘Four in a Bed’ (A great Channel 4 afternoon show for those not in the know!) because on that program B&B owners judge other owners by paying them what they think a night in their establishment is worth. So we chose to pay just $6. And perhaps we would have a felt a little guilty but we couldn’t even use the toilet so really $6 was pretty good considering we were paying for the privilege of nothing! It was super windy and rain battered against the van. A branch even fell onto the roof in the middle of the night and made Ollie panic! I was just hoping the weather would clear up for our trip up the fiord in the morning. I’d seen the pictures and knew it would be a complete let down if our cruise was through heaps of cloud and drizzle that covered everything. 

Unfortunately the bad weather was still hanging around when we woke and our journey to Milford was a foggy, twisting mystery drive. At one point we did have to go through a tunnel that was literally just a roughly carved hole through a huge mountain and there weren’t even any lights. It was too scary to even play the ‘holding your breath’ game. But eventually we reached the fiord and by then the rain had stopped and the cloud had thankfully begun to lift. We were early, so grabbing a coffee, we took our time walking down to the little dock. Cruises on Milford Sound can usually cost up to $100 each but due to my amazing internet skills, I had got our tickets for just $20 each. Lurking at the back of my mind was the idea that the grey was the price we were paying for our lucky tickets.  We soon learned however that although all the postcards and posters show the fiord set against a blazing blue sky, in reality it rains two out of three days every week and has the highest rainfall for the whole of New Zealand. So our day’s weather was actually distinctly normal!

Out on to the deck we set off as the Captain said ‘Hi’ and gave us a few details to start us off. He told us what we already knew, that Milford Sound is not a sound but a fiord. Sounds are formed by rivers but fiords are formed by glaciers and the inlets around these parts are glacial hence this part of the country is known as The Fiordlands. So why they didn’t change it to Milford Fiord when they realised, I have no idea! It is impossible to take in what you are seeing as you pass up the river. Almighty forest covered rocks rising from the water to tower above you. No flats, just continuous peaks of mini mountains lining the path out to sea. Absorbing their height is too difficult. They are hundreds of meters high and yet they don’t seem it. One I remember, nicknamed the Crouching Lion (it seriously looked like that too!), was just over 600m high and the equivalent of over two Empire State Buildings on top of each other. I just couldn’t imagine that! 

Waterfalls appeared at random points and gushed into the water below. They were ridiculously high too but like I said, for some reason it was really hard to get a gauge on anything’s height. Maybe because everything was so massive it all just overcrowded my mind into confusion. The sky was murky but it didn’t take away any of the beauty. O.k. so the pictures won’t be spectacular but what we saw certainly was and that’s all that matters. Milford Sound is one of those places, like the Grand Canyon, that is so beyond all words and comprehension that in order to really understand you have to see it for yourself. It is practically make believe. 

At one point the other guy standing near us squealed at Ollie in a childish excitement and then Ollie did exactly the same to me. Around the stern of the boat we could see four or five dolphins playing in our wake and doing all sorts of jumps and flips, as if they were used to showing off. It was a dream come true for me as I’m sure it would be for many. And even better they were Bottlenose Dolphins. These had been my favourite type when I was about eleven and obsessed with all things Dolphin! Suddenly our surroundings were shunted into less importance as we giggled and pointed at our new friends. Ollie ran to tell the Captain so he could let everyone else know and soon the outer decks filled with cameras. The dolphins stayed with us all the way out to sea until they dramatically vanished. They’re only around once or twice a week so we were pretty lucky to see them.

As we journeyed back, the wind picked up to the point where I could barely stand. Ollie had to hold on to me tight so I didn’t fly over the side. Obviously not everyone was having quite the same difficulty as me but I’m not the most stable on my feet even in normal circumstances. Seals were sleeping on the rocks beneath the largest waterfall and some of the pups were so tiny. They’re much smaller seals than I’ve seen at home before. Nowhere near as big as the one that almost capsized our boat in Falmouth Harbour one time! I could had stayed and pottered about the waters all day but our cruise finally came to an end and we had to leave that very remarkable place. I’ve already said in a previous blog about the mountains feeling alive and I felt that even more whilst floating through the fiord. I think the silence and extreme naturalness is the reason. Nothing but nature can survive in The Fiordlands and it’s only the mountains that know the true secrets of that amazing place. That’s the way it always has been and hopefully, always will be.

31/7/12

Q Town baby!

‘ARE YOU READY FOR A BIG NIGHT OUT?’

‘YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS’

Welcome to Queenstown.

In an underground bar with a old generator fan acting as a very odd focal point for the bar, Ollie and I stood and laughed with the two guys we would be spending the night with. Hopefully not in the way that might have just sounded. We had met Ross and Frankie earlier that day. They were sharing the same room as us in the hostel. Then as we chatted about Ollie and I being young and yet very married, I felt like I’d known them longer than only a few hours.  And that’s one of the best parts to traveling. Meeting people!

Our leader for the evening was ‘Benny’. A Jack Black lookalike who had a voice that was much larger than him. We followed this guy as we moved from bar to bar, constantly yelling his name in a loutish fashion that I’m sure must have annoyed him after the first twenty times. The free shot (although I have a feeling it was more likely actual tar than anything alcoholic) was only a bonus because of the face Ollie pulled as he downed them.  Scared rabbit mixed with a crying infant that has lost its dummy. But as the notes slipped from the wallet the night descended into a wonderful chaos that both Ollie and I had been looking forward to. The perfect way to begin his birthday weekend!

I had never been to an ice bar before. I don’t really want to ever to go one again. It was fun, just not worth the apparent $30pp entry fee. Luckily we didn’t have to pay that as we were on a bar crawl waaaaaaayyyyy (Sorry, I feel the need to do that every time someone says bar crawl...waaaayyyy!) and so we enjoyed, if one can enjoy being frozen whilst trying to sip a cocktail, the bar for the novelty it was. After all everything and I mean everything is made from ice so I guess that’s kinda cool. Unless you’re an Inuit and often build ice structures. Then I suppose it would just appear unnecessary, impractical and another foolish pursuit of non snow dwelling people. And then after being aghast at the foolishness of it all those Inuits would bring up their favourite groan of how everyone calls them Eskimos and how damn rude that is.

Back to the story. This is the part where I made a very rookie error. I did not place my drink on a designated coaster. Now in someone’s house this would merely be perceived as rude. But in an ice bar, it leads to your drink slipping at unstoppable pace from the table and spilling over the floor. Fortunately I found this hilarious and it didn’t matter because it had been my free drink, which was more cranberry juice than any actual alcohol but I expected nothing less. So I purchased a ‘real’ cocktail and even paid an extra two bucks to have it served in a glass made of ice. Wow. I know!

You had to wear gloves to bare holding the glass and after trying to stand casually whilst I sipped my drink and trying not to let my tongue get stuck to the ice, I put it down to grab the camera. Oh Amy. Once again I completely failed to make use of one of the conveniently placed coasters and my $10 drink went careering off the ice table so that the first I knew of what had happened was when the glass smashed on my feet. Again I did nothing but bend over in fits of laughter and after realising I wasn’t annoyed and it was safe to laugh, so did the lads! I had been enjoying my ‘mildly cold sunset penguin’ or whatever ridiculously named cocktail I’d had so I went and ordered another one. And thanks to my sad eyes and a few helpful sound bites from the guys, I managed to get my cocktail...for a whole....$2 less. A bit harsh I reckon! We had been striving for a free one! 

After the adventures of the ice bar (a lot can happen in forty minutes) and having my picture taken with an oversized stuffed Penguin, we moved on to other warmer bars. There was a band playing in one and I tried to form a mosh pit in the middle of our crowd. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the type of music you could mosh to. I think I get an award for trying though, my attempt during ‘Down Under’ was almost a success...

And so our marvelously fun night ended outside Ferg Burger in deep conversation with an Australian that didn’t mind me talking about his ‘bum chin’ and asking about shrimps and barbies. Apparently he was a milder form of Aussie than I have become accustomed to. He took my sense of humour rather well. I think we all got into a conversation about mining, Ollie’s geology degree and money but I had kind of drifted off into my bag of breaded onion rings by that point. But the most important part of our time outside Ferg Burger was Ollie and I discovering it for the first time. I think they literally make the best take away burgers in the world and I welcome that statement with challenges! I have never seen such fresh, big and packed burgers in all my life! Ollie could barely finish his which, if you know him well, is a pretty impressive achievement for a burger! They even do great vegetarian ones too which is always a bonus as many restaurants and take aways in New Zealand simply refuse to believe that non meat eaters even exist!

Tucked up in bed we managed to wake up the other people in our room with our ‘whispers’. Although I won’t lie, I wasn’t trying very hard to whisper. One guy did say he was enjoying our joke telling though so it’s nice to know we were appreciated. Ollie set our alarm. We had to be up in three hours.

* * * *

I sat up and the room finally came to halt. My mouth was the bottom of a rabbit hutch. All I could think was that I know better than to ever touch ‘free’ alcohol. It does nothing but make you feel horrific. I hadn’t even had that much to drink but when you’re trying to stick to what’s on offer and what’s on offer is one of your worst enemies that you would never normally touch (vodka mehhh) then feeling good in the morning is never going to be the outcome. Pulling on my clothes and hastily stuffing things into a bag, Ollie and I made it downstairs to check out. We said goodbye to our new friends, who incidentally looked as bad as us, and set off on our half mile walk to the van. If nothing else, that walk in the cold air smacked some life back into us. Oh and so did the litre of orange juice we shared in a gulp!

This was day two of ‘Ollie’s big birthday weekend’ and the day that we were going skiing. Perhaps our mindset could have been slightly better prepared but no amount of hangover could stop our impending excitement. 

We were going up to the ski field in The Remarkables as not only are those mountains closet to Queenstown but they also have a quieter beginners area that we thought might be quite appropriate for us. A coach took us up the mountain on a forty minute drive that literally went ‘all round the mountain’. I don’t get motion sickness normally but my life did I feel absolutely hideous on that bus journey. Every part of my being shone green as I held my teeth as tightly together as I could, keeping my head firmly facing forwards and praying I wouldn’t throw up on the person opposite me. I don’t like going up windy mountain roads any time, so feeling a little sore from the night before as well just escalated my ordeal by one hundred times! There is nothing pleasant about being thousands of feet high on a road with no barrier in a coach that is as wide as the gravel. It’s the ‘Italian Job’ waiting to happen. I’ve always though so, every time I am in that situation. I can just about manage being in our van on those mountain roads but even then I get petrified. So yeah, not the most magical start to our skiing adventure!

But then we reached the top. Off the bus I instantly felt better and jumped on the magic carpet (not nearly as magic as it sounds, just a travalator in the snow) to go and collect our gear. Having pre ordered our skis and boots for hire we were able to go straight into the main building and pick them up without having to queue. And not having to queue is always a bonus! We got fitted and a very lovely girl got me into my boots. Ollie managed alright on his own but I am Amy. Next we were given our skis and then left to get on with it! After seeking advice the day before about what ability level we should be in (and finding out that ability level was a total 0 and we were in the mega beginners bracket) we had booked ourselves in for two lessons with the complete novice instructor. I think Ollie and I had secretly hoped we could skip that level and move on to something less ‘uncool’ but we soon learned that with skiing, there is no ‘skipping’ when you’ve never even touched a set of skis before, let alone got on them!

So with an hour to wait before our first lesson we went and found a coffee. In doing this we made it obvious to everyone within a fifty meter radius fully aware of just how ‘fresh’ we were to skiing as we carried our skis up a long flight of stairs into the cafe area with us. Apparently you were supposed to leave them outside in the ‘designated area’ but we hadn’t known this! Glad to be back outside we waited by the ‘Level 1’ (at least it wasn’t called Level 0) sign for our group to assemble. During this time Ollie and I were unable to wait and so put on our skis and went for a slide which consisted of shuffling about thirty centimeters in one direction, having massive difficulty trying to turn around and in doing so knocking other people and shuffling back again. And this was all on a flat surface.

Eventually a guy in a red jacket showed up and started ordering us all about so we guessed he must have been one of the instructors. He immediately told us we should be holding our skis, not wearing them, and there was a particularly awkward moment where Ollie and I realised we were the only ones who had ours on and had to take them off in front of the others in our group like two naughty kids. It was even worse for me because I couldn’t make mine unclip and so with a helpless mumble of ‘I’ve never taken a pair of skis off before’, the guy had to do it for me. Not a great start.

A girl glided effortlessly across and said hi. She was to be the ‘beginners’ instructor. Leading us all down a fairly steep slope, us all clambering and sliding behind her in our boots looking like the kind of people who are new at something and who’d I’d chuckle at if I was a lot better, she finally got us all in a semi circle at the bottom of the gentlest ski slope I’ve ever seen. On a side note, if you’ve never tried to walk in a pair of ski boots I suggest you try for a laugh. It has to be the most annoying and tiring form of walking known to man! Anyway. After a few preliminary exercises of practicing moving in a circle with just one ski on and then swapping to the other foot (unfortunately I didn’t practice with my other foot as I got confused with what we were doing and had got separated from Ollie so couldn’t ask him what I had missed the girl saying because I was watching with glee as a parent fell over on his child, who was fine) we got down to the less humiliating and far more interesting stuff. Actually trying to ski! 

First off we learned to stop. Or rather everyone else learned to stop and I learned to slow down a bit. The girl tried hard to teach me but I suppose in order to stop fully you have to want to and deep down I just wasn’t convicted enough as really I wanted to keep going because it was fun. But after a few runs down the slope, well pretend slope, I could do a pretty good impression of a skier who was coming to a hault. That mastered we moved on to turning and the bigger slope. This area was far more fun and you could actually build up a bit of speed. However it wasn’t until the next day when Ollie and I were discussing what we had learned from the lessons that I found out the whole purpose of the girls teaching had been about slowing down and gaining total control over the skis. And there was me thinking we were learning how to stay safe whilst getting to the bottom as fast as possible. Not quite sure how I missed the correct information there.

By the end of the first lesson we were loving the whole ‘skiing thing’ and stayed on the slope to practice for a bit longer. After a short rest we got back out there to enjoy our freedom before the afternoon session. Feeling over confident as we approached the slope down to the starter area I watch as Ollie skied very under control and on balance down the slope and slalomed his way through the practice posts. I followed and did so in the most out of control, speediest and reckless way one could ever imagine, roaring my way to the end of the snow trying desperately to ‘make a wedge’ and stop myself. It’s a miracle no children were lost in the run! Speaking of children. it was insane how good some of the little kids on the mountain were. Children about five years old were coming down the real slopes, utterly fearless, and others who were still learning glided about without poles making their ‘pizzas’ like miniature pros! It was enough to bring back my sickness from the morning I tell you!

The afternoon session began with a recap and me saying hi to people I had smacked into and run down a few hours previously. Most of the group had forgiven me though I think. Or they were just too polite not to smile. Our instructor got us to do some jumping, get better a turning (or try to) and to improve our stance. I was concentrating so hard that the time flew past and soon it was time to say thank you and goodbye. She told us that we had been the best Level 1 group she’d ever had and that we were far beyond where first timers usually are. We even got told we could skip straight to level 3 next time and maybe even get a go on the proper ski fields. Well. I say we, she was looking at Ollie and certainly not me. He was a little disappointed in me but I did try my best. So after she left us Ollie got me back up to the steepest entrance slope and began to put me through his rigorous ‘get better quick Amy so we can do more next time’ regime. 

But I was still out of control. And why he was surprised about that I don’t know. I am always out of control in general. There was even one horrific point were I got a third of the way down the slope, panicked because there were people I was going to hit and decided the best course of action would be to just fall smack onto my bum. This turned out not to be the correct thing to do because I then got totally stuck and couldn’t get back. A very nice older gentleman from our group came sliding to my aid and eventually got me back on my feet. He had been watching me with some amusement from the safety of the flat area. In the end I had to tell Ollie I had had enough for one day and that we had to give the skis back. The place was also closing and the snow had turned to ice so it was a good time to drag Ollie away from his new found love. My thighs were sore from falling over three times too. I wish I had had three spectacular falls but two had been while I was literally standing still.

Back in our trainers we felt very odd to be walking with such ease and after selecting a photograph taken by the official photographer that summed up our day (it was me crashing into Ollie) we caught the coach back down. It had been an awesome day up the mountain and a perfect introduction to our new hobby. And it will be our hobby. Ollie has insisted. 

* * * *

We checked into our little hotel on a hill overlooking Queenstown and dragged our ski battered bodies to our room. As I sunk into a boiling hot bath I was very glad we had decided to add the hotel to Ollie’s birthday weekend. We had a great annex room at the top of the building that had beams running through it and a spectacular view overlooking the town and Lake Wakatipu. It was nice to be able to stand up straight in more than a square meter of space and to have a real bed to sleep in. It was also very wonderful to put fresh clothes on that weren’t intended for a mountain walk. 

Ollie and I picked a tiny restaurant called ‘Les Alpes’ to have dinner in and if anyone is ever in Q Town then I would definitely recommend eating there, the food was immense! The owners and waiting staff were all french and the atmosphere was very cosy. The service was impeccable which I very much appreciated as to me it is as important as the food! We were both in the mood for rich food and that is exactly what we got. Everything was so yummy! As we were in France we had a French wine which was as heavy as I had hoped for and sent me into a lovely warm cosy place. By the time we had finished our meal it was late. Back in the cold we walked back to our hotel. The best way to end our day and celebrate Oliver’s quarter of a century.

Sunday morning we woke late having missed the alarm that didn’t go off because I didn’t set it right and ran down to catch the end of breakfast. We had planned to leave Queenstown and head down to Te Anau but unable to tear ourselves away from our new favourite mountain town we stayed another day. We visited an underwater viewing place where we watched fish, eels and diving ducks messing about in the lake, we cleared our heads of the wine with coffee and walked around the very lovely town. And then as one last ‘birthday treat’ we went and watched ‘The Dark Knight Rises’. Even though it was a tiny cinema and the screen was far from great, we still though the film was immense (all three hours of it!), and as with all super movies, couldn’t stop talking about it four hours afterwards. As it was getting dark we pulled out of Queenstown. Trying not to look behind us and wish we were staying longer, we said goodbye and began our journey south.

31/7/12

Amy needs to calm down about those mountains...

Yesterday we spent the day in Wanaka. Walking, exploring and chilling out to the backdrop of a stunning lake and snowy peaks. We took a path along the edge of the lake and got lost in conversation and scenery for over an hour before we realised we hadn’t been looking where we were going and for a moment couldn’t remember how we had reached that point. Luckily the way back was straight forward enough and soon we were back in the little town. After lunch we wondered around the few roads and looked in on a few shops selling intriguing bits of nothing and sniffed outside the bakeries. Ollie saw a poster advertising ‘Cornish Pasties’ (immediately irked that they had spelled ‘pasty’ pastie) and feeling that a mildly illegal business could be taking place he went in to try and buy one. To his surprise the bakers had ‘sold out’ and he was more than a little miffed that not only were pastys being sold in Otago but that they were apparently very popular too!

Sitting outside a little coffee shop that make the most delicious carrot cake (we tried not to let the nice food make us buy it) we watched the clouds finally disappear for the day and I got all fascinated by some little cheeky birds trying to steal the leftovers of a lunch at a table nearby. There were guard birds, rival birds, a planning committee and the two that were led by them in order to retrieve the large crust that had ben left behind. It was hilarious. And the bread was far to heavy for them to carry away. So in the end it turned into a mass fight for ‘a go’ at eating until a few birds formed a break away group and came over to our table to eat our crumbs. Naturally I obliged and made sure they got them.

Ollie was in need of ‘a pint Am’ so we found a very good looking Ale House and ordered a couple. Monteith’s Brewary make excellent beer and cider and have they’re brewery in Greymouth so all the pubs around here have them on tap. Apparently no one makes ale like they do in Cornwall, according to Ollie, but he still looked to be enjoying his anyway! Their cider is my favourite and after not having any in a while I was pretty thirsty! It was a good bar and our table looked straight out onto the lake and snow above. We must have spent a few hours in there chatting, laughing and reminiscing on the things we missed back home. My pint and half must have got to me a bit though because at one point I started to get a bit emotional over 20p’s! But most of all we talked of the people we missed and who we wished could be here to experience the ore of where we are. 

I mentioned in a previous blog about the scenery being able to bring me to tears and as we see more of this country it only gets harder to hold them back. Looking around everyday is to see an endless expanse of perfection that intensifies the longer you’re in it until it is painful. Like staring at the sun. It hurts so much you want to look away and yet you find yourself constantly trying to see more. What I have seen physically makes my heart ache. For me, the South Island is an extremely emotive place that twists itself into you so that after it, things will never be quite the same. A place has never done that to me before and I find it a bit unnerving. But irresistible nonetheless. 

* * *

After a restless and cold night’s sleep, daylight finally began to push through our curtains and warm us enough to dare leave our covers. Oh and a cup of tea helped! Ice was actually covering our windows and it took ages to get it off. Well, ages for Ollie! But eventually we could see enough to drive. A thick mist lurked all around us and made the frosty fields eerie. But as soon as we got out of shadow the mist had vanished and morning was finally happening. We noticed as we drove how places in the mountains’ shadows were full of mist and frost but everywhere not in them were perfectly normal. It was weird to see single clouds floating just meters from the ground and only in certain places. 

By the side of the road we noticed a little market selling fruit and veges so we stopped to take a look. Lucky for us we had picked the same time to stop as two coach loads of Japanese tourists and what we experienced next was a frenzy of picture taking, mass swarms and over eager appetites for the free ‘tasting table’. I know I’m being incredibly stereotypical but I have not exaggerated the situation in any way! The market was selling loads of dried fruits too so grabbing a big bag of banana chips (our favourite) we payed and got the hell out of there! If we’d stayed any longer Godzilla might have showed up! O.k. so now I’m being stereotypical...

We were passing a number of wineries (wow they have a lot in this country!) when suddenly I noticed a sign that read ‘Cheesery’. Wow! Naturally we immediately pulled over and went in to see if we could try any cheese. They had just opened and the lady was still setting up but she was very happy to give us a large selection of different cheeses to try while I tasted my way through a conversation about how much I loved the island. The cheeses were all on the gentler side of flavours (we tried goats, cows and sheep cheese, fiercely organic and home produced so I was o.k. with that!) and it was nice to try ones different to those I’d normally pick. I did ask to try her ‘stinkiest’ that might ‘take my mouth off’ and she did her best but...I’ve had better! In the end we bought a slice of their ‘Blue’ and one of their ‘Smoked Brie’. Later when we ate them I did enjoy both and even though they didn’t blow me away, it’s sometimes good to appreciate a different style!

A little town called Arrowtown appeared in the valley and we stopped to have a look around. An old mining village, it kind of looked like towns we’d seen out west in America. I never knew Gold mining had been such a big deal in New Zealand, but apparently it was! The main street was made up of small shops and cafes and Ollie and I knew immediately that as lovely as this place was it was a big trap for us. Just the kind of place we could spend all day drinking coffee and eating good food whilst letting the rest of our money sink into our bellies. Tearing ourselves away after a quick visit to the bakery, we both had a vegetarian (I know right? As if Ollie picked something vegetarian and not one of their ‘famous’ meat pies! I must be converting him!) Calzone (yum!), and then left Arrowtown as fast as we could.

Next we drove down into Queenstown (we’ll be coming back their later don’t worry) and out the other side following the path of Lake Wakatipu. Just incidentally, don’t places here have the most awesome names?! The Maori language is fantastic! My impersonation of the language is not. Anyway, along the stunningly wondrous, magnificently smooth lake (New Zealand needs a dictionary of adjectives all of its own I swear ‘cos I’m all out after only a few months!) you can grab a glimpse of locations that were used in the filming of ‘Lord Of The Rings’. Now, personally, I couldn’t tell you what parts and even though it says a few on our AtoZ I wouldn’t have a clue what, say ‘Gladden fields’ looked like in the film! 

Because I enjoyed the trilogy, well the first parts until it got to the bit where the big trees deliberated forever about whether to go and help and then when they did they walked so slowly they got nowhere fast which was strange because as they were so big surely they would have covered ground quicker. After that bit I kind of switched off and by the time the last film came out I had forgotten the beginning and I didn’t really care about the ring or Mordor anymore and all I was left with was a half hearted impression of Gollum that received no critical acclaim from anyone. I should read the books but I’m afraid fantasy doesn’t really get me going and although I sincerely appreciate how great Tolkein was (and I really do) and what he was trying to accomplish by creating the stories and Middle Earth (for further info on that please see my Essay entitled ‘British Nationhood: A Myth?’ - Self plugging at it’s best aye!) I can’t say I’ll ever manage to read those books. But never say never right?

At the end of the main road is Glenorchy. A tiny hamlet bordered by Lake Wakatipu on one side and mountains on the other. It is of course utterly picturesque and has a lovely hours walking trail just behind it. Peaceful and quiet, it is the place Queenstown locals come to escape the emmets! Whilst eating our cheese, I noticed a tiny place 40Km beyond Glenorchy that was only reachable by a dirt track. That place was named ‘Paradise’. Instantly I got it in my head that we had to get there and even though our van is anything but a 4WD I felt that shouldn’t stop us. So we went. And everything was fine, perhaps a little bumpy (O.k extremely), until we saw another camper van face down in a ditch. It was being towed and although we couldn’t help laugh, it did make us a little nervous. It was an icy patch of road that had thrown the van off and we had confidence in Ollie’s driving! We had to wait about ten minutes to be able to get past and while we were stopped a 4x4 zoomed past us and three lads gave us odd looks before they realised why we were stopped in the road. They looked a bit silly screeching to a halt after they had already seen us.

Past the fallen van we continued our pursuit of Paradise and made it through pot hole after pot hole, small streams and down muddy slopes that we hoped we could get back up. But then our dreams came to a crashing reality when, in front of us, appeared a river. And there was no way our Mystery Machine (A.K.A Manuel!) was gonna take that bad boy on! Conceding at the same time, Ollie and I looked at each other and agreed that our turn in Paradise was not to come just yet. And we had been so close! So as a fly can’t go back and tell his larvee mates at the bottom of the pond what it’s like ‘up top’, Ollie and I can’t tell you what Paradise is like. But lend us a 4x4 and we might be able to sort something out!

We turned around and gripped our seats as we took on the trail going in the opposite direction. The jeep with the lads in had zoomed past us again like idiots but we chose to ignore them. We chewed on our hearts as we took on the muddy bank and as I yelled ‘Come on you ********************’ (***** indicates a secret chant that only people who need it can know...) Ollie sped us and we juuuuust made it over the top. After which a couple of girls in what looked to be the equivalent of a ‘Twingo’ decided to give it a go. If we see them on the news we’ll let their families know what happened. We were just coming around the corner to where we’d seen the ‘towing’ when Ollie let out a massive laugh and a ‘Brilliant!’ Those three lads who had tried to be all cocky had only gone and fallen in EXACTLY the same ditch as the van had gone in! We couldn’t believe it!! We also couldn’t stop laughing! Instant Karma! As we took a slow mocking drive past I gave them a big grin and a thumbs up which was returned with three very foolish looking guys who smiled and waved sheepishly at us. Lucky for them a big tractor, that they had also roared past earlier, had been kind enough to stop and and decide to help them out. But even that guy was laughing at the dummies! Haha I’m still chuckling now!

Finally back on a road surface that didn’t feel like a trip to the Dentist’s we found Glenorchy again and headed back towards Queenstown. Just off the road was a small track that actually had a ‘Yes Campervan you can actually stop here and we won’t be grumpy about it’’ sign (no that’s not what the sign said, but I thought that’s what the diagram of the camper with no line through it with 7PM-9AM wanted to tell me) and led to a beach that looked out onto the lake, Pig Island (doesn’t really look like a pig, maybe if you squinched your eyes) and Pigeon Island (definitely doesn’t look like a Pigeon no matter what you might try to do to your eyes). The water had become the stillest we’d ever seen and as the sun began to lower I actually couldn’t believe we were going to be able to spend the night at such a glorious place.

Ollie found that flat, flat, flat, super flat lakes make the best skimming spots and tried to impress me with skims that went for up to thirty times! My best was two. The same as in the sea. Apparently it’s my technique and stone choice. So as I wasn’t up to the required standard I chose to sit on a rock and catch up on some blogging. Definitely one of the more inspiring places I’ve chosen to write. Perhaps I should come and live here and maybe it will help me to produce something worthy of being put into a book...

And lastly. I know, I know, I always say it, but seriously, those mountains!

26/7/12

A long walk, a couple of glaciers and a hot tub. Lovely job!

The morning was filled with cloud and mist as we drove a little further south to begin our hike. It was early morning and we could barely see the road in front of us let alone the mountains we guessed were lining our route. Setting off into the bush, the trail quickly became a steep upwards climb that would remain until we reached the top of the mountain. Our path was marked out but the ground was swampy and we had to pick our steps carefully to avoid sinking in. 

Out of the woods and onto more harsh terrain the slope increased and soon there was frost under foot and the trickles of water had turned to ice. The cloud was still too low to see anything but we guessed we must have been getting higher quite fast. A forest sprung up in front of us and by the time we had made our way through, the mist had lifted a little and we started to see where we were. Snow peaks were everywhere and already the ground below looked very far away. We were now in snow and the higher we climbed the more the temperature dropped so that our noses felt like they would fall off at any moment! Thick ice patches lay in the long grass around us and Ollie enjoyed trying to crack them and see how thick it was. I’ve never really seen ice thick enough to walk on but we found it here.

Finally after just over two hours of climbing we reached ‘Bealey Top Hut’ and could rest. Inside the metal cabin were beds, a fire place, dry kindling, a pack of cards and various other useful things for staying the night. There was also a book where we could add our information. Using a piece of charcoal I scratched our names on the wall next to others that had been and gone. Outside we found a large log and sat down to eat our lunch. I had wanted to rest a while but the temperature was so low that we quickly cooled from our walk and started to get cold. The best way to warm up again was to start the walk back! Going down hill was far more fun and on the decent I was able to take more interest in what was around us. The cloud had all but disappeared from the valley and now against a backdrop of piercing blue sky ranges of rugged snowy mountains. All we could say was ‘Wow’. We could also see at this point how high we had climbed and I was pretty impressed with what we had accomplished!

Eventually we were back in the first wood and back to the start. It had been the long walk I had wanted and the views couldn’t have been better. Arthur's Pass is spectacular and I’m so glad we went 200K’s out of our way to get to it! We had a long drive in front of is for the afternoon to get down to the Franz Josef Glacier. But driving during the day is the best way to see as much of the land as possible and before we knew it we were back at the coast and the sea. We stopped in Hokitika as I spied a fish and chip shop that sold Kumara chips, my favourite! The town was actually really nice and far more aesthetically pleasing than Westport or Greymouth. If anyone traveling ever wanted a place to stop on the west coast I would definitely recommend Hokitika instead of Greymouth! 

* * *

We woke to a thick layer of frost on our van and the sight of our own breath. Dressing quickly to keep warm we set off for a walk to the base of Franz Josef Glacier. One of two large glaciers on the South Island, Franz Josef Glacier is an enormous mass of ice carving its way between two mountains. As we walked along the open expanse of the stoney river bed at the bottom of the glacier, it didn’t look that big. But as a helicopter flew into the valley of rock and ice it all but disappeared. And as we got closer and the glacier still remained the same, we realised just how enormous it was. 

I suppose I was expecting some kind of arctic expanse of white that stretched for miles into the distance. So I was a little disappointed that the glacier was more of a frozen river in the mountains. Adjusting myself to the fact it wasn’t as I had imagined I was able to appreciate the marvel for what it was. We got as close as was allowed and read the signs that gave a bit of history and science on Franz Josef. It is possible to actually get on the ice (crampons and all) and to take a hike through tunnels, crevices and various other ‘icey’ extremes. However those trips were more expensive than we could have imagined and although it would have been fun, I do want to eat for the rest of the journey.

About 40Km further along the road is Fox Glacier. I believe it is the larger of the two glaciers and I have to say it was far more impressive to look at. I don’t know if it was because we were able to practically reach the base of it by foot, or because the day had become even clearer, but the ice was far more fascinating to look at. Perhaps I also knew what to expect this time so there were no dreams being dashed on this particular visit! We drove up a bit of track to get a higher view of the glacier which was worth it until Ollie misjudged a speed bump and we almost ended up through the window screen, pots and pans following behind.

After a morning of all things ice we got back to the van for an afternoon of driving. The next place on our journey was Wanaka (Say ‘One-eh-ker) and it was a good few hours away. Again we were in need of fuel and hoping for a little bit of ‘life’ so when we saw the town ‘Haast’ in bold type on our map we were full of encouragement. But we should have known better. Because ‘Haast’ was a ‘Haast been’ and just a collection of small shacks and one fuel station that of course charged ridiculous amounts. But I guess if I was the only fuel stop for 100’s of kilometers I would milk the fact too! So enjoying hours of endless beauty, mountains, rivers, wildlife, farm land and blue sky we made our way slowly towards Wanaka.

Suddenly out of nowhere a huge blue lake appeared on our right. The water, of course clear as anything (as all water ridiculously seems to be here!), mirroring the scene above it and calling me to jump into it. One a side note, every time I see a lake or river that’s more beautiful than the last I exclaim ‘I WANT TO GO SWIMMING!’ and Ollie has threatened to throw me in if he hears me say it again! Lake Wanaka is a massive expanse of water that can be followed on the highway down to the town itself. We stopped to walk along one of the beaches and Ollie played baseball with himself using driftwood and stones. A bizarre experience. I preferred to wonder in the nearby wood and then find a tree trunk to have a think on. The sun was beginning to start its sink behind the mountains so we set off again in search of a place to spend the night.

Lake Hawea joined us on our left for a while, a smaller lake but just as impressive and again lined with a sight that was far too magnificent. If there was ever a way to make you feel less than perfect or very humbled, the landscape of the South Island would be it. Just as we were starting to look for a lay by or parking spot, signs started appearing along the road declaring ‘No Freedom Camping Zone’ and we realised finding somewhere could be a real pain. The ‘zone’ continued all the way to Wanaka and in a way I’m glad it did because that place at sundown is wonderful. The end of the lake turns into pebbles and then shops, cafes and bars that line the pretty waterfront without imposing too much human presence on the area. A very cute ski town that was instantly likable.

With the thought of free hot tubs, sauna and internet in our minds, we couldn’t think of anywhere else we wanted to spend the night other than campground we had just seen advertised. O.k so it was a little more expensive than the $0 budget we had for that night but it was only the same price as other far less awesome parks we’ve stayed at. The showers even had underfloor heating and two doors so the cold didn’t get in! It was the first time since we left Auckland that I haven’t done the ‘undressing in a freezing shower cubicle dance’ which is usually followed by the ‘hop up and down until the water gets warm and then jump a bit more when it bursts out too hot’! We had a very relaxing evening before enjoying a warm nights sleep where I didn’t wake up every two hours freaking out that someone was trying to get into the van!

24/7/12