Days begin to blur
Room service breakfast!
Brisbane flight ok, Cyclone downgraded to tropical storm.
Didgeridoo purchase
Landing at Singapore - Death penalty announcement
Singapore to Abu Dhabi non-eventful
Abu Dhabi to Manchester Non-eventful - Didn't get to sit together
Saturday, 28 February 2015
Day Nineteen - The Voyage Home - Part One
Delay from 6am to 3pm
Melbourne Flight delayed due to Cyclone, Christchurch runway work so curfew stops it landing.
Christchurch Airport Lounge Fleas
Thoughts on Australian Visa - easy to get one when it's their fault!
Brisbane hotel - room service!!
Melbourne Flight delayed due to Cyclone, Christchurch runway work so curfew stops it landing.
Christchurch Airport Lounge Fleas
Thoughts on Australian Visa - easy to get one when it's their fault!
Brisbane hotel - room service!!
Day Eighteen - Return to Christchurch
Christchurch Gondola
Quick tour around Christchurch - playing with phone action pics setting
Frustrating drive to Hagley Park - trying to park!!
Reading in the drizzle at Hagley Park
Japanese food!!
Flight Delay
Day Seventeen - Hanmer Springs
We drove from Seddonville to Hanmer Springs via Buller Gorge and Lewis Pass. It was a fairly simple drive compared to what we’ve experienced over the last few weeks, but we still got some amazing photos.
Pics:
After we arrived at our motel and checked in, we took a walk up conical hill, and tried out the panorama features on our phones. If only we’d figured it out earlier!
Pics:
Finally, we visited the pools that give Hanmer springs its name. There were three smelly sulphur springs and a plethora of thermal pools of different temperatures. Yo had fun making a fool of herself in the currents of the river-like portion that dragged you around and around with its current, primarily aimed at children (we assume). Most of our time was spent dipping in and out of various hot pools, relaxing and watching the world go by.
And that’s really all I’ve got to say about that.
Day Sixteen - Karamea, or the place that time forgot
We awoke in the middle of nowhere, mist covering the land outside our window. Like all our other west coast mornings, though, it burned off quickly and soon you could see the mountainous vista.
Pic:
Without any mobile phone signal, we found ourselves sitting by the end of the motel room that was presumably closer to the wifi router - in our case, hanging out in the toilet or bathroom with our arms waving in the air, desperate to get a bar or two of wireless. Email checked, we set off along a windy and remarkably high road through the rainforest to the place of Yo’s earliest childhood: Karamea.
After around an hour’s drive through some of the windiest roads we’d yet been on, we arrived. Karamea: Population 575. Also in the middle of nowhere. If Seddonville was in the ass-end of nowhere, Karamea was clearly the anus. There were plenty of buildings, a smattering of shops, and about three people. No phone signal, no free wifi anywhere to be seen, just cows. They were good at cleaning their own nostrils. Slap with the tongue - left one done. Slap again - right one done too. Yum!
We had lunch in the Karamea Hotel. Probably the only hotel, although there were a few other accommodation type places about - but they all must have been empty because there were no people.
It only took a little while for Yo to look at a place that might have been her house - but it was all changed from the house she remembers of 25 years ago, so she couldn’t really be sure. With little else to do, we headed out to the Oparara Basin. Our first attempt at following the local guide leaflet led us directly back into Karamea ten minutes after we set off, but upon our second attempt we managed to find the long windy unpaved road we were looking for. It was approximately 16km of uneven, gravelled, rally-track style road, where, if you wanted your car undamaged at the end, you could really only go 30 km an hour, max, to avoid the hazards.
The track was actually an old logging track that had been maintained ever since and eventually ‘done up’ to allow tourists to walk around and view local caves, limestone arches, wildlife, and just the rainforest in general. We decided to go to Box Canyon Cave and Crazy Paving. Crazy paving was simply a cave with mud that had dried in the crazed-cracked look that sometimes happens when mud becomes really dry, but Box Canyon Cave was pretty awesome. It was probably the biggest natural cave we’d ever been in, with a ceiling towering into the darkness above us, and a width of at least ten meters, which twisted and turned menacingly into the depths of the earth. The walls had accretions of moisture that glowed mysteriously in the wan light of our mobile phones, and the high-flood debris marks on the walls were well above our heads.
Outside, the sign had told us that a particular species of spider made this cave its home, and boy it didn’t disappoint! With a size of around 15 cm, it was easily the biggest spider I’d ever seen outside a cage, and kinda creepy to come across in the darkness.
Video links, pics of spider:
Caves done, we took a walk along the rainforest, and whilst tamer than some rainforest walks we’d been on already, the wildlife was particularly cute.
Video of robin:
As soon as the robin had gone, a curious Weka wandered up, but wasn’t quite interested in getting close enough to try out the cookie crumbs we offered it.
A bit later on, there was a fantail who had a thing or two to tell us, and followed along fanning its tail and generally flitting about:
Video of fantail.
The Moria Arch was the final part of the walk, and whilst it didn’t resemble anything from Lord of The Rings (Perhaps a cash-in?) it was still an impressive natural wonder, the limestone reaching all the way across the trout-bearing river, with caves that allowed us to access it from above.
Arch pics:
Walk done, we headed home via the windy pass, which we learned was called Karamea Bluff, (someone had modified the sign to say karamea puffs, but we were smarter than their tricks)
Pics:
Tea was a pot of cooked pasta at our motel, and then we went to bed.
Sunday, 15 February 2015
Day Fifteen - The Long Drive North
It was a weird feeling as we said goodbye to Poppy and Gus to start the long drive north to Seddonville. A few days ago, I posted on the discomfort of having to spend four days in a B&B; a place where you're essentially given a room in someone's house. Whilst I would still say it's not my preferred method of accommodation, Poppy was an incredibly nice host, and we got on very well. She's had an interesting life (trained helicopter pilot and gold miner) and was only too happy to indulge in stories. She was also keen to learn about the time we were having in NZ and often seemed wistfully jealous as we explained how we'd been glacier walking and white water rafting.
So whilst I still wouldn't recommend B&Bing in general, I'd recommend to anyone to stay at the Franz Josef Alpine Lodge.
The plan was to first drive to a place called Shantytown, on the outskirts of Greymouth. I'd expressed an interest in panning for gold (inspired by Poppy's stories) and apparently Shantytown was an old gold mining town and a place where tourists could try their hand at it. It was about a two hour drive, so approximately half way to our ultimate destination. This meant we had plenty of time to kill and could freely wander around and see if there was anything else we could do.
Shantytown was not what I expected; I'd expected a real, working, ex / current, mining town where people lived and went about their daily lives - where there might also have been a small tourist attraction where you rented a pan, got told how to use it and sent to the local river to try your hand at gold panning. Instead, what we got was a frontier-style amusement park. Sure, there were no rides or anything, but it was a pay-to-get-in fully and faithfully recreated gold-mining town from the 1850/1900 period. You were free to wander about the little (unmanned) shops and services that were available at the time, whilst reading the boards and placards explaining what life was like and the history of the Shantytown area / West Coast.
Whilst it wasn't what I expected, I found it quite fascinating, and we stayed well longer than we'd initially planned. There was a steam train that took you for a short ride into the rainforest, where a faithfully rebuilt sawmill gave you a history of the logging in the area. The West Coast was subject to a gold-rush remarkably similar to the Wild West - it was the same period after all - and logging was of top priority in order to create the planks required for housing and mine shafts.
Pics of the steam train:
At the end of the line (deep in the rainforest), we got to get out and examine the steam train in more detail. There were more boards for us to read about early loggers, including a guy who accidentally chopped his toe off with an axe! When a fellow logger offered to go fetch help, he told him not to rush, as he still needed to have lunch! He purportedly then sat down, peeled down his sock, tossed his toe into the rainforest, and calmly ate his lunch whilst help vanished into the distance! Hardy folk indeed!
I also did get to pan for gold, but not in the way I'd expected. In part of the town there was a gold panning station, where you paid to be given a pan with some river-dirt already in it. You were then shown how to clear the dirt and stones from the pan whilst retaining the flakes. I had a few of the tiniest flakes in my pan, which were poured into a small vial for me to keep.
We probably stayed there for about three hours, and could easily have made a full day of it, but our next stop along the way was Punakaiki - or Pancake Rocks - which was a coastal treasure consisting of limestone rocks being battered by crazily heavy waves. The limestone rocks had layered themselves on top of each other to resemble pancakes, and erosion from the forceful waves created 'blowholes' which boomed loudly as the water rushed through them.
Pics of pancake rocks:
Finally, there wasn't anything else we had planned but to drive up to Seddonville, our basecamp for the next two nights while we explored the region where Yo spent her early, early years - Karamea.
So whilst I still wouldn't recommend B&Bing in general, I'd recommend to anyone to stay at the Franz Josef Alpine Lodge.
The plan was to first drive to a place called Shantytown, on the outskirts of Greymouth. I'd expressed an interest in panning for gold (inspired by Poppy's stories) and apparently Shantytown was an old gold mining town and a place where tourists could try their hand at it. It was about a two hour drive, so approximately half way to our ultimate destination. This meant we had plenty of time to kill and could freely wander around and see if there was anything else we could do.
Shantytown was not what I expected; I'd expected a real, working, ex / current, mining town where people lived and went about their daily lives - where there might also have been a small tourist attraction where you rented a pan, got told how to use it and sent to the local river to try your hand at gold panning. Instead, what we got was a frontier-style amusement park. Sure, there were no rides or anything, but it was a pay-to-get-in fully and faithfully recreated gold-mining town from the 1850/1900 period. You were free to wander about the little (unmanned) shops and services that were available at the time, whilst reading the boards and placards explaining what life was like and the history of the Shantytown area / West Coast.
Whilst it wasn't what I expected, I found it quite fascinating, and we stayed well longer than we'd initially planned. There was a steam train that took you for a short ride into the rainforest, where a faithfully rebuilt sawmill gave you a history of the logging in the area. The West Coast was subject to a gold-rush remarkably similar to the Wild West - it was the same period after all - and logging was of top priority in order to create the planks required for housing and mine shafts.
Pics of the steam train:
At the end of the line (deep in the rainforest), we got to get out and examine the steam train in more detail. There were more boards for us to read about early loggers, including a guy who accidentally chopped his toe off with an axe! When a fellow logger offered to go fetch help, he told him not to rush, as he still needed to have lunch! He purportedly then sat down, peeled down his sock, tossed his toe into the rainforest, and calmly ate his lunch whilst help vanished into the distance! Hardy folk indeed!
I also did get to pan for gold, but not in the way I'd expected. In part of the town there was a gold panning station, where you paid to be given a pan with some river-dirt already in it. You were then shown how to clear the dirt and stones from the pan whilst retaining the flakes. I had a few of the tiniest flakes in my pan, which were poured into a small vial for me to keep.
We probably stayed there for about three hours, and could easily have made a full day of it, but our next stop along the way was Punakaiki - or Pancake Rocks - which was a coastal treasure consisting of limestone rocks being battered by crazily heavy waves. The limestone rocks had layered themselves on top of each other to resemble pancakes, and erosion from the forceful waves created 'blowholes' which boomed loudly as the water rushed through them.
Pics of pancake rocks:
Finally, there wasn't anything else we had planned but to drive up to Seddonville, our basecamp for the next two nights while we explored the region where Yo spent her early, early years - Karamea.
Saturday, 14 February 2015
Day Fourteen - White Water Rafting! (15th Feb)
Firstly, a little about white water rafting itself. Each rapid is graded anywhere between grade 1 (the easiest) and 5 (the most extreme). The idea is that you then jump in an inflatable dingy / raft whatever you want to call it, with six or seven other people and paddle downstream, navigating lots of rapids with different grades.
We chose to go with Eco Rafting, and initially planned a mid-range affair of hitting a river that offered mostly grade 3 rapids. As noobs, I (probably not so much Yo) felt that would be a much better way to introduce us to the trials of white-water rafting, and probably ensure we didn't go breaking bones or anything.
So we booked one a couple of days ago. It was a little disappointing, as the one we'd initially looked at doing was unavailable, but there was a (slightly) cheaper one launching that offered grade 2-3 rapids. Still, we'd get a reasonable taste of what white-water rafting was all about, right?
Last night, just as we were entering the hot pools (so around 7-8pm) we got a call from the rafting place, saying the track up to where the rafts launch from was closed due to the government doing a 'controlled burn'. However, as she felt pretty bad for us she was willing to offer a discount for their single day heli-rafting option. At a discount, it still meant around twice the price of our previous one, so we ummed a little bit and told her we'd get back to her shortly. Whilst checking the bank to see if we could budget it, we got a phone call saying that she'd spoken to the helicopter company, and could offer a better discount. As we were already inclined to say yes before the phone call, this was a pretty sweet boon and we signed up.
Heli-rafting was a little more hardcore (read: the hardest one they offered in single-day trips), where they choppered you 22km's up stream, and along with your guide and five or six others would have a pretty extreme day. There were plenty of grade 5 rapids (the river was full of grades 3-5), and it sounded exciting. Frightening (considering how hard work the kayaking was), but also exciting.
We got to the designated helipad in the middle of nowhere a little early, and got bitten by dozens of sandflies as we waited for the rafting guys to appear. When they did arrive, they suited us up in thermals, wetsuits, 'booties' (wetsuit versions of shoes) crash helmet, splash jacket (raincoat) and life vest.
Our two guides were very much of the 'surfer dude' mentality. One 'Weka' wore dreadlocks, goatee and was pretty well built. He'd been rafting those waters for around 9 years so was pretty well experienced. He was clearly a lover of the extreme, and I could just as easily see him rock climbing or skydiving for a living as white-water rafting. In the back of his car was a hunting rifle; he said he never paid for his own meat. If he saw a deer in the wild he'd shoot it, and took a very 'human is elite' view of animals in general.
The other (I forgot his name) wasn't so experienced, and was working there as a summer job before flying over to California 'to live like a bum for the summer, then come back here and work hard again'. I thought he had an interesting take on life. Very different, and I'm a little envious.
There were six paying rafters in all, and two guides, so when the helicopter arrived it needed to take us in two loads (especially considering the gear that needed to be lifted). Myself and Yo got the second ride, and we watched with interest as they hooked the deflated raft to a rope and hung it from the bottom of the helicopter. With such a load dangling from the bottom, the pilot took his door off so he could look down and monitor things better. This made the flight all the cooler (and draughty), especially considering we got to ride up front again.
The 22km flight last about 7 minutes - so not long - and before we knew it we were in the middle on nowhere with no roads for miles around. Weka observed that we were so remote not many New Zealanders even had ever seen it.
First job was to inflate the raft, which had 4 compartments on the sides, three inflatable 'ribs' in the middle, and an inflatable bottom. We all took it in turns to help as it was a fairly big job.
Then came the safety lesson. Weka told us where and how to sit properly (along the sides of the raft, not the middle seats). You jammed your feet into the bottom of middle ribs to stabilise yourself, as you'd need both hands to man the paddle. He then told us about the different commands he'd be yelling at us during the voyage - the usual 'forward paddle', 'back paddle' 'paddle right' etc... then the more interesting ones; 'hold on' which involved hastily securing the paddle on your lap, grabbing hold of the rope that ran outside of the raft with one hand, while leaning and tucking yourself in to the centre of the boat. Then there was 'get down', where you'd again secure the paddle in your lap, and bunker down in the bottom of the boat. That was a 'shit, there's real danger ahead' kind of command. There were also things like 'jump left / right' where you'd all dive to one side of the raft - useful for avoiding rocks, I guess.
Finally he told us the need to know information about being thrown out the boat. How to lay on your backs or swim, never stand up, cos that'll throw you back on your face in the rapids. He buddied each of us up with a partner, and told us we were each responsible for getting the other back into the raft should they fall, and showed us the tools he had such as ropes and such to ensure that should we be dragged too far form the boat then he can throw us a line.
By now we were both realising that this was actually pretty dangerous stuff we were embarking on, and even Yo admitted she was somewhat frightened. Wow!
When we did get into the boat, we had a few practice sessions of his commands until we got them right (we all sucked at first), and then we set off. Most of the rapids came in too fast for me to describe, so I shall only say this: Holy fuck it was fun. We hunkered down a few times, so the rapids were pretty heavy going, but Weka was an excellent guide and only a couple of times did I feel any real danger. The other guy alternatively ranged ahead and followed behind in a kayak, taking photos and generally helping out with hands up where needed etc.
We then stopped at a big rock in the centre of the river, climbed to about twenty feet, and all jumped off into the waters below. The river was glacial, so pretty cold - but that's why we had thermals and wetsuits, and soon it became un-noticeable.
I can't elaborate on the rapids too much, because there were so many of them, but notable highlights include:
We chose to go with Eco Rafting, and initially planned a mid-range affair of hitting a river that offered mostly grade 3 rapids. As noobs, I (probably not so much Yo) felt that would be a much better way to introduce us to the trials of white-water rafting, and probably ensure we didn't go breaking bones or anything.
So we booked one a couple of days ago. It was a little disappointing, as the one we'd initially looked at doing was unavailable, but there was a (slightly) cheaper one launching that offered grade 2-3 rapids. Still, we'd get a reasonable taste of what white-water rafting was all about, right?
Last night, just as we were entering the hot pools (so around 7-8pm) we got a call from the rafting place, saying the track up to where the rafts launch from was closed due to the government doing a 'controlled burn'. However, as she felt pretty bad for us she was willing to offer a discount for their single day heli-rafting option. At a discount, it still meant around twice the price of our previous one, so we ummed a little bit and told her we'd get back to her shortly. Whilst checking the bank to see if we could budget it, we got a phone call saying that she'd spoken to the helicopter company, and could offer a better discount. As we were already inclined to say yes before the phone call, this was a pretty sweet boon and we signed up.
Heli-rafting was a little more hardcore (read: the hardest one they offered in single-day trips), where they choppered you 22km's up stream, and along with your guide and five or six others would have a pretty extreme day. There were plenty of grade 5 rapids (the river was full of grades 3-5), and it sounded exciting. Frightening (considering how hard work the kayaking was), but also exciting.
We got to the designated helipad in the middle of nowhere a little early, and got bitten by dozens of sandflies as we waited for the rafting guys to appear. When they did arrive, they suited us up in thermals, wetsuits, 'booties' (wetsuit versions of shoes) crash helmet, splash jacket (raincoat) and life vest.
Our two guides were very much of the 'surfer dude' mentality. One 'Weka' wore dreadlocks, goatee and was pretty well built. He'd been rafting those waters for around 9 years so was pretty well experienced. He was clearly a lover of the extreme, and I could just as easily see him rock climbing or skydiving for a living as white-water rafting. In the back of his car was a hunting rifle; he said he never paid for his own meat. If he saw a deer in the wild he'd shoot it, and took a very 'human is elite' view of animals in general.
The other (I forgot his name) wasn't so experienced, and was working there as a summer job before flying over to California 'to live like a bum for the summer, then come back here and work hard again'. I thought he had an interesting take on life. Very different, and I'm a little envious.
There were six paying rafters in all, and two guides, so when the helicopter arrived it needed to take us in two loads (especially considering the gear that needed to be lifted). Myself and Yo got the second ride, and we watched with interest as they hooked the deflated raft to a rope and hung it from the bottom of the helicopter. With such a load dangling from the bottom, the pilot took his door off so he could look down and monitor things better. This made the flight all the cooler (and draughty), especially considering we got to ride up front again.
The 22km flight last about 7 minutes - so not long - and before we knew it we were in the middle on nowhere with no roads for miles around. Weka observed that we were so remote not many New Zealanders even had ever seen it.
First job was to inflate the raft, which had 4 compartments on the sides, three inflatable 'ribs' in the middle, and an inflatable bottom. We all took it in turns to help as it was a fairly big job.
Then came the safety lesson. Weka told us where and how to sit properly (along the sides of the raft, not the middle seats). You jammed your feet into the bottom of middle ribs to stabilise yourself, as you'd need both hands to man the paddle. He then told us about the different commands he'd be yelling at us during the voyage - the usual 'forward paddle', 'back paddle' 'paddle right' etc... then the more interesting ones; 'hold on' which involved hastily securing the paddle on your lap, grabbing hold of the rope that ran outside of the raft with one hand, while leaning and tucking yourself in to the centre of the boat. Then there was 'get down', where you'd again secure the paddle in your lap, and bunker down in the bottom of the boat. That was a 'shit, there's real danger ahead' kind of command. There were also things like 'jump left / right' where you'd all dive to one side of the raft - useful for avoiding rocks, I guess.
Finally he told us the need to know information about being thrown out the boat. How to lay on your backs or swim, never stand up, cos that'll throw you back on your face in the rapids. He buddied each of us up with a partner, and told us we were each responsible for getting the other back into the raft should they fall, and showed us the tools he had such as ropes and such to ensure that should we be dragged too far form the boat then he can throw us a line.
By now we were both realising that this was actually pretty dangerous stuff we were embarking on, and even Yo admitted she was somewhat frightened. Wow!
When we did get into the boat, we had a few practice sessions of his commands until we got them right (we all sucked at first), and then we set off. Most of the rapids came in too fast for me to describe, so I shall only say this: Holy fuck it was fun. We hunkered down a few times, so the rapids were pretty heavy going, but Weka was an excellent guide and only a couple of times did I feel any real danger. The other guy alternatively ranged ahead and followed behind in a kayak, taking photos and generally helping out with hands up where needed etc.
We then stopped at a big rock in the centre of the river, climbed to about twenty feet, and all jumped off into the waters below. The river was glacial, so pretty cold - but that's why we had thermals and wetsuits, and soon it became un-noticeable.
I can't elaborate on the rapids too much, because there were so many of them, but notable highlights include:
- Climbing a rock in the middle of the river.
- Canyoning up to a waterfall, jumping off another ledge, and then swimming underneath the waterfall where the waiting hands of Weka ensured we didn't get swept away. The water here was approximately 23 meters deep, and the waterfall as pretty high - too high to easily guess. Weka knew the depth of the area by the waterfall because he'd had a previous tourist drop their GoPro to the bottom, and had to send someone down with scuba gear several times before they managed to retrieve it.
- After swimming under the waterfall, we had to jump off into the waterfall and let the current sweep us out of the churn. The clamber over permanently wet (and thus presumably mossy, and very certainly slippery) rocks was somewhat frightening. I was half afraid I'd slip and break my neck or some other precious part of me. No one did, though.
- The portage: not long after the canyon, there was a section of rapid that was too narrow for the raft. We got sent off to climb rocks on our own, then watched as first the raft was hauled over the rocks, then the kayak was hauled on top of a 'rock' that was 6 or 7 meters high. He climbed in whilst still on the rock, and then.... whee! slid down the rock and straight into the water fearlessly. After that, we had to abseil down the rock and into the waiting raft.
- The final good thing: lunch. After some more lovely rapids and paddling, we came to the confluence of two rivers and pulled up on to the sun-warmed rocks to watch as the two guides prepared our food. They opened up a bucket with a watertight seal and pulled out cabbage, carrots, celery, a grater, a bag of corn chips, cheese, aioli, a can of mixed chili beans, and a can of sweetcorn. Once they were all chopped up/opened/grated, they were poured back into the same bucket, and a paddle was inserted to mix it all up. Finally, we were each handed a wholewheat tortilla wrap (Weka called them 'twisties', but later owned up to having made that term up on the spot), and the delicious mix was spooned onto our wraps with the flat side of the paddle.
The rest was, well, plain sailing. Weka and the other guy (I feel really bad for not remembering his name!) swapped over, so that we were guided by the other guy all the way back after lunch. The rapids were not too frighteningly rapid, and we even hopped out and swum through one of them.
A brilliant day, even with all of the freaking bitey sandflies. Unfortunately we left our phones behind due to the expected wet dunkage, but we've been told photos will appear on facebook imminently - hopefully exciting action photos of us navigating rapids and jumping into water!
Day Thirteen - It's all about the Glaciers
So today was one of the main points I'd been looking forward to the most - Franz Joseph township (where we've been staying for the past couple of nights) is at the base of a large glacier which runs down from the Southern Alps into the rainforest below, and for a price, you can get a helicopter ride to the top of the glacier, and a guided walk around the craggy ice. It was not cheap, and by far the most expensive thing we've done so far ($325 NZ per person), but we hoped it was something truly unique, and boy we were not disappointed.
Our ride wasn't until noon, so we had a fairly relaxed morning, staying in our room at the B&B and watching stuff on our laptop. We headed out with enough time to buy Yo some new hiking trousers and a pair of sunglasses (sunglasses we essential on the Glacier, and we wouldn't be allowed up without them).
Getting suited up involved being handed a pair of waterproof over-trousers, a pair of warm woolly socks, boots (we couldn't wear our own, alas), and a fairly hefty coat. We were also given a shoulder bag with crampons inside, which also had enough room to hold our snacks, drinks etc. annoyingly, the guy suiting us up told Yo not to take the water, as there were plenty to drink up there (it being a Glacier), so we left it behind. All in, there were ten of us on this tour, and once we were suited up and all looking the same, we headed on out to the helicopter.
Here's a pic of Yo looking dandy:
Each helicopter could only hold six, and as our group consisted of a party of six friends they took one helicopter, and the other four of us took the other. Neither Yo or myself had ever been in a helicopter before, so it was quite cool when we were invited to sit up front!
Movie of my helicopter ride:
At the top we were met by Josh our guide, and given the safety tutorial and how to put on the crampons.
Pic of crampons:
He had a rather huge ice axe (looks like a pickaxe), which he said would be used to cut our path across the glacier. Franz Josef is one of the quickest moving Glaciers in the world, moving around 5 meters every day. As such, the face constantly changes as new paths open and old ones close. All around us we could hear sounds of small rocks and chunks of ice falling down the slopes, which was a big eye opener to the thought that we were actually on a moving, evolving ice flow.
We hiked up some pretty gnarly ice formations, Josh constantly hacking away at the ice to make steps or hand holds. At one point, he got a radio message from another guide saying the (rough) path we were taking had already changed up ahead and was unsafe, so we quickly took a detour and cut a new path.
Pics of landscape:
At various points we come across some truly amazing obstacles, first, the ice 'valley':
Movie of ice valley:
And at one point a truly dramatic climb through an ice cavern. The cavern was incredibly tight, no higher than a man or wider than me stepping sideways. It twisted and turned in all sorts of interesting directions, sometimes forcing us to even lay down as we scooched sideways.
Below are some videos of the caves. Currently they're in three parts as traversing the caves were so difficult at points I couldn't film and move
Ice Cave Vids:
As we entered the bright light of day, our guide told us those caves had only existed for two days, and would likely be gone in another four days or so. Once again another reminder of the ever changing landscape of the glacier, and it made me a little queasy to think of the already tight spaces suddenly shifting. Still, what an experience! Something that I plan to always remember.
Just outside the caves, Josh told us that in those same caves that very morning, he'd lost his axe down one of the deep cracks and had had to have a new one brought up for the afternoon tour. With the ice moving as it does, we weren't sure if that meant it would never be seen again, or turn up ay the base of the mountain ten years from now!
Heading on, he led the party forward and immediately noticed something not looking right. Gingerly testing the floor with his (new) ice axe, it suddenly sank into a hidden, sloppy pool of ice water and almost entirely swallowed the shaft! We cautiously walked around it while he radioed the other guides to warn them of the new hazard and be aware.
Pic of sunken ice axe:
By now (as we were told not to bring any water) both Yo and I were well and truly thirsty. The other hikers had all brought bottles with them, so why the guide at base camp told s not to bring water we couldn't figure out. Perhaps just being funny, I suppose. We told Josh, and he said the glacier was fully drinkable, so we found a bit no-one had walked on and helped ourselves to some fine glacier water. Normally, most people would tell you that it was the best thing they'd ever tasted, or it was the sweetest water in the world! Me, I think it tasted like water. Cold, to be sure, and very refreshing, but water all the same.
Then we'd headed out about as far as we could given the time allowance of the tour, and it was time to head back. Halfway down, we again got a radio message that the path had closed to us, and had to wait for about 30 minutes whilst several guides congregated together to cut a new path, secure ropes and such and take us back to the helipad on the ice. On the way down, we were told about the two New Zealanders Mark Inglis and Phil Doole, who in 1983 were stuck halfway up Mount Cook for almost two whole weeks. They hadn't planned an overnight stay, so brought no real food or sleeping gear for for the first 3 - 5 nights slept in a rudimentary shelter made of ice. At one point, a helicopter dropped them supplies of food and sleeping bags, but it was two weeks before a helicopter could come close enough to rescue them. By that time frostbite was so serious they each lost both their legs just below the knee. A grave reminder of the dangers of nature when not taken seriously.
The glacial hike over, we decided we still needed a little more walk time, so followed a trail for about an hour and a half that took us to the very bottom of the glacier. It was kind of neat being able to see how high up we were and think that just a couple of hours ago we were up there in a completely different world.
Meanwhile, we got some scenic photos of the second walk:
Now all activitied out, we thought the best way to relax was a trip to the hot pools within Franz Josef township. As pat of the glacial experience we booked, we got free entry to the pools and boy were they nice. There were three different pools out in the open air, one at 36 degrees, one at 38, and one at 40. Yo (obviously) preferred the hotter pools, whereas I found the 40 to be a little too prickly for comfort. We kept switching round though, and it was a pretty sweet and relaxing way to end the day.
Our ride wasn't until noon, so we had a fairly relaxed morning, staying in our room at the B&B and watching stuff on our laptop. We headed out with enough time to buy Yo some new hiking trousers and a pair of sunglasses (sunglasses we essential on the Glacier, and we wouldn't be allowed up without them).
Getting suited up involved being handed a pair of waterproof over-trousers, a pair of warm woolly socks, boots (we couldn't wear our own, alas), and a fairly hefty coat. We were also given a shoulder bag with crampons inside, which also had enough room to hold our snacks, drinks etc. annoyingly, the guy suiting us up told Yo not to take the water, as there were plenty to drink up there (it being a Glacier), so we left it behind. All in, there were ten of us on this tour, and once we were suited up and all looking the same, we headed on out to the helicopter.
Here's a pic of Yo looking dandy:
Each helicopter could only hold six, and as our group consisted of a party of six friends they took one helicopter, and the other four of us took the other. Neither Yo or myself had ever been in a helicopter before, so it was quite cool when we were invited to sit up front!
Movie of my helicopter ride:
At the top we were met by Josh our guide, and given the safety tutorial and how to put on the crampons.
Pic of crampons:
He had a rather huge ice axe (looks like a pickaxe), which he said would be used to cut our path across the glacier. Franz Josef is one of the quickest moving Glaciers in the world, moving around 5 meters every day. As such, the face constantly changes as new paths open and old ones close. All around us we could hear sounds of small rocks and chunks of ice falling down the slopes, which was a big eye opener to the thought that we were actually on a moving, evolving ice flow.
We hiked up some pretty gnarly ice formations, Josh constantly hacking away at the ice to make steps or hand holds. At one point, he got a radio message from another guide saying the (rough) path we were taking had already changed up ahead and was unsafe, so we quickly took a detour and cut a new path.
Pics of landscape:
At various points we come across some truly amazing obstacles, first, the ice 'valley':
Movie of ice valley:
And at one point a truly dramatic climb through an ice cavern. The cavern was incredibly tight, no higher than a man or wider than me stepping sideways. It twisted and turned in all sorts of interesting directions, sometimes forcing us to even lay down as we scooched sideways.
Below are some videos of the caves. Currently they're in three parts as traversing the caves were so difficult at points I couldn't film and move
Ice Cave Vids:
As we entered the bright light of day, our guide told us those caves had only existed for two days, and would likely be gone in another four days or so. Once again another reminder of the ever changing landscape of the glacier, and it made me a little queasy to think of the already tight spaces suddenly shifting. Still, what an experience! Something that I plan to always remember.
Just outside the caves, Josh told us that in those same caves that very morning, he'd lost his axe down one of the deep cracks and had had to have a new one brought up for the afternoon tour. With the ice moving as it does, we weren't sure if that meant it would never be seen again, or turn up ay the base of the mountain ten years from now!
Heading on, he led the party forward and immediately noticed something not looking right. Gingerly testing the floor with his (new) ice axe, it suddenly sank into a hidden, sloppy pool of ice water and almost entirely swallowed the shaft! We cautiously walked around it while he radioed the other guides to warn them of the new hazard and be aware.
Pic of sunken ice axe:
By now (as we were told not to bring any water) both Yo and I were well and truly thirsty. The other hikers had all brought bottles with them, so why the guide at base camp told s not to bring water we couldn't figure out. Perhaps just being funny, I suppose. We told Josh, and he said the glacier was fully drinkable, so we found a bit no-one had walked on and helped ourselves to some fine glacier water. Normally, most people would tell you that it was the best thing they'd ever tasted, or it was the sweetest water in the world! Me, I think it tasted like water. Cold, to be sure, and very refreshing, but water all the same.
Then we'd headed out about as far as we could given the time allowance of the tour, and it was time to head back. Halfway down, we again got a radio message that the path had closed to us, and had to wait for about 30 minutes whilst several guides congregated together to cut a new path, secure ropes and such and take us back to the helipad on the ice. On the way down, we were told about the two New Zealanders Mark Inglis and Phil Doole, who in 1983 were stuck halfway up Mount Cook for almost two whole weeks. They hadn't planned an overnight stay, so brought no real food or sleeping gear for for the first 3 - 5 nights slept in a rudimentary shelter made of ice. At one point, a helicopter dropped them supplies of food and sleeping bags, but it was two weeks before a helicopter could come close enough to rescue them. By that time frostbite was so serious they each lost both their legs just below the knee. A grave reminder of the dangers of nature when not taken seriously.
The glacial hike over, we decided we still needed a little more walk time, so followed a trail for about an hour and a half that took us to the very bottom of the glacier. It was kind of neat being able to see how high up we were and think that just a couple of hours ago we were up there in a completely different world.
Meanwhile, we got some scenic photos of the second walk:
Now all activitied out, we thought the best way to relax was a trip to the hot pools within Franz Josef township. As pat of the glacial experience we booked, we got free entry to the pools and boy were they nice. There were three different pools out in the open air, one at 36 degrees, one at 38, and one at 40. Yo (obviously) preferred the hotter pools, whereas I found the 40 to be a little too prickly for comfort. We kept switching round though, and it was a pretty sweet and relaxing way to end the day.
Friday, 13 February 2015
Day Twelve - So, what shall we do?
We awoke around 8.30 to the sounds of other guests chatting to the host and eating breakfast. Feeling slightly awkward, we tiptoed out the room to join them and contemplate what activities we were wanting to do while we were here.
Our priority was something involving the glacier, and we had 2 options we both fancied. Firstly, the ice climb, which involved a helicopter ride to the top of a glacier, then climbing a wall of ice, using all the tools ice climbers generally use. This sounded pretty neat, but we’d heard from one of Yo’s friends who’d already done it that it was truly exhausting, and she was reasonably fit (as in, fitter than me, probably not Yo). It was also $499 NZ per person (£250), so £500 for a five hour excursion was quite eye-watering, but potentially worth it. The second option was the glacial hike. Like the first, it involved a helicopter ride to the top of the glacier, then a 4 hour guided hike through some pretty awesome sounding scenery. This was $325 NZ, so around £160 per person. Expensive, but also probably worth it. This is what we’d saved up for the past 5 years, right?
We decided option two, simply because of the sound of how tiring the ice climb was. Our host (Poppy) graciously offered to book it for us, and they were fully booked until the next afternoon. So that was day thirteen sorted, but what about today?
We also wanted to do some white water rafting. This was initially penned for Queenstown, but when we decided to skip staying overnight there we pushed it to Franz Josef. Ecorafting was the only option here but it had pretty good reviews, as well as offering rapids from scale 1 (easiest) to 5 (extreme). They all came with a guide, so we lumped for the middle of the road. Poppy again booked it for us, but they were fully booked until the day after tomorrow! Wed snagged that spot, but again, didn’t eave us with anything to do today.
There were plenty of walks around the local area, but we’d done plenty of those so far, and whilst everyone had been fun and enjoyable, I felt we needed more ‘extreme’ activities whilst we were here next to the glacier. Horse riding, gold panning, quad biking were all considered and discarded (except for gold panning - we pencilled this in for when we leave Franz Josef as the good ones were a couple of hours drive north towards out next destination). Poppy and her husband had both been gold miners before opening their B&B, and had some inspiring stories and pics) to tell of how them pulling large nuggets out the ground as well as gold dust, and regularly getting payments of $60,000 NZ from the brokers (though their fuel bills were also in the region of $50,000 NZ). Back in those days, gold was $2,200 NZ per ounce, but it had since plummeted to $1,500 NZ per ounce, and with their machines and fuel bills they felt it was time to get out - so they bought a property and opened a B&B and helicopter tour place (which her husband ran). They still own the machines and such, so they say they’re basically waiting for the price of gold to rise again, sell up, and move back into the business.
Finally, we settled on kayaking in Okarito, just down the road. It was freedom kayaking, so we could go wherever we wanted, and promised adventures down the rivers of the local rainforest.
When we arrived, we discovered it was right beside the coast, and to get to the rainforest we had to kayak along an open tidal lake. Immediately we were told we’d come at the wrong time - the tide would be working against us going out, and the winds would be against us coming back. Unperturbed, we shook off their concerns with a ‘well we’ve been canoeing on the Norfolk Broads before, we’ll be fine’ kind of attitude, and booked four hours.
Going out, the tide was indeed against us, but manageable. It took us awhile to learn our stride, and meanwhile, a german couple who started out after us managed to zoom past - to our horror we noted that whilst the guy at the rear was paddling, the woman up front was too busy looking after a baby. We were out paddled by a single rower!!! We really did suck, it seemed.
We were told there would be lots of rare wildlife out on the lake and rivers, and indeed we did see the white heron, estimated to only have around 150 of them in New Zealand - but whilst we heard lots of other wildlife, we didn’t really see them. Personally, I blame the Germans blitzkrieging ahead and scaring them all off.
After much paddling, we reached the rainforest and entered a different world. No wind, no tides, the paddling was easy. We rowed under fallen trees bridging the banks, portaged sections of the river that were too shallow (really that was me sitting in the back, prodding Yo with my paddle as she dragged the boat over the high sands / rocks).
We got some nice pics:
Paddling back, we discovered their warnings about wind to be absolutely true. Gosh, it was hard work. I was sat at the back of the kayak, paddling for all my worth and it felt like we were crawling along at around 2mph. During the rainforest section the german couple had pulled up along the bank for something to eat and we’d overtaken them - but not any more. To my utter amazement, once again we saw the single rower steam past us and disappear into the distance. I don’t have a clue how he did it, apart from the fact that we must’ve sucked. Yo thinks he was desperate to get back as he had a crying child in the boat, but I was also desperate to get back just to get out of the wind - and it didn’t seem to make much of a difference to me!
Exhausted, we finally reached the boathouse and climbed ashore. My fingers were cramped and struggled to open and close, my left arm had a deep ache / throb which threatened to linger for days, and I felt proper tired. We’d booked white water rafting for two days time, and in the back of my mind I was already wondering if it was a mistake. It was paid for though, and was something high up on our priority list, so there really was no backing out.
Back in the rental office, we were given a free complimentary cup of coffee and to my surprise discovered we really were out there for the whole four hours. Honestly it didn’t feel that long, but I guess the paddle back did take an eternity after all and i wasn’t just imagining it! It was hard to believe I’d just spent the last four hours paddling without any break - no wonder my arm hurt!
Afterwards, we headed back to the B&B, had a shower to get rid of the salt spray and headed to Fox Glacier township for something to eat. We settled on a good old-fashioned Saloon:
Nice, but small portions for the price. I had ribs (supposedly a double rack, but got less tan a single racks worth in the UK), whilst Yo had cannelloni (again, tiny portion). For that reason alone I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. It tasted great, but I came away feeling a little robbed.
With a fed belly, all I wanted to do now was head back and sleep, but it was about 7pm, and whilst my body told me to sleep, my heart said it would be too much of a waste. We settled on a walk around Lake Matheson, which the guide book said would take around 1.5 hours, and offered brilliant still water and reflective shots of the glacial mountains.
It was very popular, there were lots of tourists there, mostly of asian origin. One young couple in front of us clearly didn’t want us walking behind them so giggled and did a funny speed-walk to put some distance between us. Bemused, we thought the only suitable response was to enact the ‘Roller-kitty’ march, and soon caught up with them using our well rehearsed goose-step.
I was tired, but it was still a great walk, and I got some very pretty views of the lake and reflective mountains:
Walk complete and me properly zombified, the only decent thing to do was to retire for the evening - though ti wasn’t over yet! To our horror as we got back to our rooms we discovered our host had left the window in our room open, and there were no less than fifteen mosquitos in the room! We tried to sleep, but they were after blood and refused to leave us alone. We cocooned ourselves, but I found that method difficult to stay comfortable. Frustrated I jumped up, turned on the lights and went on a killing spree. T-Shirt in hand, and tried whipping it at them while they stood on the walls and ceiling, but the wind must have given them advanced warning, because they were always one step ahead - plus it made a loud whacking noise as it connected to the wall, which at 11pm probably wasn’t the best way to stay friends with our host and other guests. In the end I settled for a much more effective technique. I bunched the t-shirt into my hand, and slowly moved it over the top of them, encompassing them in a fatal cotton coffin. I became a killing machine smearing their entrails all over the walls and ceiling, and got them all in the space of fifteen minutes. Much more relaxed, I drifted off to sleep.
Day Eleven - Drive, Drive, Drive
Today we had a six plus hour drive ahead of us to reach Franz Josef. Before the trip we’d debated on perhaps stopping somewhere earlier overnight and breaking the drive up, but that ate into too much time at Franz Josef and the glacier adventures, so we decided to just write the day off, pretty much, and get there in all haste.
As yesterday was such a long day, we lazed in bed a little later than we should have, and set off for our first stop (Queenstown) at about 10.30. At Queenstown we needed petrol, and breakfast.
We got there about 12.30 (1pm by the time we’d gotten petrol and parked), had lunch at a Mexican restaurant (Quesadilla’s.Yum.), and did a quick hunt at the local gift shops for some prezzies I’d promised to bring back.
3pm, and we set off again for the 4.5 hours drive to Franz Josef. The many in the Mexican restaurant told us we were mad for thinking it would be that short, he said more like 6 hours, but I was determined to prove him wrong.
We stopped a couple of times for scenic photos, but not many. Most notably we stopped at the Gates of Haast:
But generally took pics and movies whilst driving:
At around 19:30 (4.5 hours drive :-p ) we arrived at Franz Josef, found the place we were staying and dropped off our bags. We were a little put out to find it was a bed and breakfast (essentially staying in a room in someone’s house), as we usually like the privacy of self-contained units, but we’re determined to make the most of it. I suppose this is a lesson in reading the website booking fully before clicking, but the place is quite posh, and the hosts seem nice. Hopefully we’ll all get along by the end of the four nights stay and will be sad to leave :-).
We went out for tea at a Thai place, quite nice, we both had friend rice dishes, and as there’s no kitchen in our room, will probably be eating there again at some point ;-)
Day Ten - Flora, Fauna and Fiords
Day ten, we decided to awake extra early (6am) in order to beat the rush to Milford Sounds. Milford Sound is a fiord in the south west of New Zealand (called, surprisingly, the Fiordlands) and is the number one tourist attraction of the south island. Every guide book and information centre recommends the cruise across the sound, and every one of them say to prebook or get there early to avoid disappointment. As we hadn’t pre-booked, and we’d heard bad things about the ‘lunch time rush’, we set off at 6.30 to do the 2.5 hour drive to the Fiordlands. Along the way we passed some scenic ‘hotspots’:
And the Homer Tunnel, a several kilometre man made tunnel through the mountainside:
Milford sound
Once we got there, we caught the first cruise leaving at 9.30 with ‘Jucy’ - who also operate as a vehicle hire company. We had a coupon for buy one get one half price, courtesy of a free AA guidebook we got at the airport.
The views were pretty decent, and had we not had our breath taken away quite so often on the previous days, we might have found this a lot more entertaining. As it was, we got to see lots of scenic cliff faces, waterfalls and dramatic landscapes, but I don't think either of us were ‘blown away’ like most of the guide books write about:
We were even lucky enough to catch a glimpse of some seals at a couple of locations:
And yes, unbelievably, there were yet more Israeli’s. We didn’t see them for long, but at one point there was a man and two women sat behind us speaking Hebrew to each other.
Rainforest Hike
Cruise over, we realised we had a whole afternoon with nothing planned, so decided to take a leisurely drive back to Te Anau and stop if we saw something interesting. I don't think either of us planned to stop so quickly, but we found a scenic bridge crossing a river, and a sign pointing to a rainforest trek:
We even saw the same Israeli’s pull up and enter the rainforest after us, but they weren’t dressed suitably (jandals) so didn’t stay very long.
A rainforest walk was always something on our to do list, but until then we figured on seeing it up in Franz Josef higher up along the west coast, this ticked a box, offered to fill our afternoon and possibly free up more space in adventure-filled Franz Josef.
The afternoon was filled with trekking across a humid and cramped forest, where everything was wet, and either covered in moss or lichen. The path was narrow, steep and covered in a maze of tree roots and rocks that forced you to think abut every footstep. As a result it was fairly slow going, but well worth it. We forded umpteen rivers, traversed steep walls made of tree roots, admired many waterfalls and slipped thousands of times on mossy rocks and branches. I’m sure we never even covered 6 miles, but at all times it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. Probably one of my favourite walks i’ve ever done, but I’ll let the pics speak for themselves:
After the walk we headed back to Te Anau to book the evenings entertainment: The Glowworm Caves.
These were nearly all fully booked by the time we got there, but fortunately there were a few spaces left on the 21:30 trip, so we bagged them, and went for something to eat in the meantime. I had my first taste of New Zealand steak at a place called the Olive Tree in Te Anau, whilst Yo had a vegetable wrap.
The Glowworm Caves
We came across the caves advertised in the Lonely Planet guidebook, and instantly added them to our to do list. Consisting of a cruise across Lake Te Anau (the largest freshwater lake in NZ) to a cave system branching more than 7km deep, the tour only covers the very first part of the network, but does involve a subterranean boat ride to get to the ‘glowworm grotto’
The boat ride lasted around 30 minutes, and set sail just as the last of the sunlight was going down. Too early for stargazing, it still provided an atmospheric landing on the pier approaching the caves.
Unfortunately, one of the conditions of the trip is that photography or video recording of any kind is not allowed. It’s meant to be an extreme visual sensory experience and as such the glow from lcd screens from hones and cameras would ruin it for everyone. They’d gone to a lot of effort to get the mood and lighting just right, and I for one was happy with the arrangement.
As we landed, there were lots of dim glow lamps lighting the way along the pier and through a short forest to the visitor centre, where we were broken down into group of 11 / 12 (we got grouped with an all American party) and given a brief introduction / explanation of the rules / safety etc.
Primarily, we were told as it was a visual experience, there’d be very little talking. At certain points, the guide would explain certain features in the cave, but as the worms were sensitive to sound it was generally polite to be as quiet as possible for the sake of others.
As we entered the caves, we were greeted by a roar of rushing water. The entire cave network was made of limestone, and the water - when mixed with carbon dioxide from plant life up on the mountains - became slightly acidic. Throughout the millennia this carved out a series of waterfalls and rapids within the cave, and at times, they were quite deafening. The caves themselves were much grander than the ones I’ve been to in the UK; larger, more dramatic, and less… dank.
They weren’t always larger, though. It some points were had to crawl through the caves, as they were less than 4 feet high. This added to the drama though, I thought.
Finally we got to the bit where we had to board a boat, and were told from this point on to be totally quiet, as we were about to enter the glowworm grotto. Naturally, one of the americans didn’t think that applied to him, but was soon told off by the guide.
The glowworms in this case are unique to New Zealand, and are around the size of a matchstick. Their tail end glows a pale blue colour in the darkness when they’re ‘hunting’. In this case, they make a light, hoping that small insects and flies are attracted to it. Like spiders, they hang tiny sticky threads around themselves to catch their prey, then inject them with a venom that literally turns their insides to mush so the glowworm can drink it. The average sandfly would keep a worm going for about 3 days, a moth about 3 weeks.
Inside the grotto there were thousands of them. Entire constellations and galaxies were formed in the grotto, which was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face (I tried). It was truly unique, and probably one of my favourite moments in all of the trip so far. A must see for anyone venturing to the south island, and a reminder that nature can always surprise you. A big cave, large enough for a boat ride, full of tiny glowworms sticking to the ceiling and walls, giving out a pale, eerie blue light. I know my writing isn't doing it enough justice. I’m just glad a saw it.
Finally it was time to return, and this time it was fully dark. Inspired by the glowworms, I went up on top deck of the boat and viewed the Milky Way under another clear night. This time, the light pollution was even less than before, and I think I even got to see some of the milky white ‘nebula’ that give our galaxy it’s name.
Today was all about nature, and it was great.
Day Nine - The Long Road South
Today was the day we’d head to Te Anau / Manapouri, the staging point for our trip on the Milford Sounds. It was a four / five hour drive from Omarama, but we planned to stop half way down in Queenstown, where we hoped to pick up something fun like a bungee jump.
When I say something fun, i do, of course, mean something a little bit terrifying.
The drive to Queenstown itself was something special, full of mountainous passes and windy trails through gorgeous landscapes:
Firstly, we stopped at a place called Lindis Pass, for some amazing views of the road behind us:
Just as we were heading back to the car, I head an old lady muttering some language that once again seemed familiar; quizzically, I glanced to Yo to see a bemused look on her face. Yep another set of Israeli’s were already here in the lookout point, miles away from any sort of civilisation. Clearly I must have attracted Mossad’s attention and they were spying on me. What else could it be??
Leaving list trails as we made our hasty getaway, we once again were greeted with some pretty amazing views.
And then we hit Queenstown proper and began looking for the bungee jump places. Queenstown itself was a pretty chaotic place to drive through, pedestrians clearly didn’t care about stepping in front of the car, trusting instead to your skills with the brake.
The jump we booked was Kawarau Bridge, historically the first ever bungee jump created for commercial purposes. There’d been some crazy pioneers before this jumping off bridges for their own personal amusement, but Kawarau was the first one that sold the experience to the paying customer.
Feeling (un)confident, we drove the 20 minutes to the location and began the mental process of psyching myself out. Mainly I watched other people do it. Many whooped for joy as they plunged, others screamed. One poor oriental girl clearly didn’t want to do it, and clutched desperately to the side for around 10 minutes as the instructor coached her. Eventually she jumped (or was pushed?) to the sound of raucous applause and cheer form the spectators.
Then it was our turn.
I decided to jump first. They weighed me (twice), triple checked it, and scrawled it on my hand (63kg) for good measure. Then, like a man going to his execution, I trudged to the centre of the bridge and they fitted me with my noose - er… body harness. They then wrapped a towel around my ankles, tied it tight with cord and then clipped it in place to the bungee cord - with a second clip going to my harness for good measure. All the while they were yelling my weight to some guy playing with pulleys and mechanisms to ensure i didn’t crash head first into the Kawarau River at 100 mph. Whilst I did ask for my head to be dunked, they said I weighed too little for the cord they were using so they couldn’t guarantee it.
Finally, they hobbled me to the edge, made me smile for the cameras and say something witty for my last words… and told me to jump.
…and jump I did. I was damn impressed with myself.
Just over a year ago I went rock climbing in Israel, and I found it enormously difficult to trust to anyone or anything controlling my descent. Most of the time that involved me awkwardly climbing down myself rather than taking the plunge and trusting others. This, I foresaw, would be a very similar situation, only I didn’t have myself to fall back on (literally) and climb down.
I hesitated for a second, I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re poised at the edge of a gangplank, overlooking a 42 meter plunge into foaming white water. Natural preservation of life kicks in, and you grab hold of the nearby handle before you even think about what you’re doing.
But i overcome it. I don't know how. Probably watching the dozen or so people in front of me all come out of it fine helped, but whatever happened I found myself leaning forward and soon passed the point of no return.
I dived headfirst, and once again found myself doing my signature ‘Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!’ yell. I yelled the same thing when I skydived, and I yell the same thing whenever I see I’m about to fall off my bike and can do nothing about it. Clearly, it’s my signature panic yell. My subconscious go-to word when the shit hits the fan.
But damn it was good.
The free-falling felt absurdly long for the shortness of the drop. Perhaps that was due to the water-water river rushing up to meet me, and my mind wondering just when the snap of the bungee would save me from an embarrassing death. I remember the wind pushing at my face, contorting it as it dragged the skin back, but mostly I remember the absolute lack of feeling the bungee as it took my weight. I expected to feel a wrenching or tugging, or something mildly painful, but I guess it’s testament to the crew and the safety lengths they go to that I didn’t feel a thing - or maybe the adrenaline did something, I don’t know. All I know is that one moment I was hurtling towards the rapids, the next I was hurtling back to the bridge.
Anyway, I shall let the video and pics do the rest. I also suspect that Yo will comment on her own experience on a different post, as a few minutes later she followed suit and dived headfirst into the river.
After the plunge, we sat and drank a coffee, letting the adrenaline wear off before we got back into the car.
The next destination, Manapouri, of which there were many more gorgeous views:
The lake next to Queenstown:
Once we arrived, we checked into the motel (a proper motel, this one, in every sense), and headed down to the lakeside. Lake Manapouri is an incredibly tranquil place, the only sounds the lapping of the water and the occasional birdcall. I even took a puddle in the cool waters and made a short video:
Afterwards, we had tea in the restaurant, and waited until it got dark. Then, we headed back down to the lake and did a spot of stargazing. Sheltered by a small copse of trees, the lake offered zero light pollution and was a perfect place to see the night sky. I don’ think I’ve ever seen that many starts before. We even think we got to see the Milky Way, (we saw a big band of stars running across the sky from horizon to horizon. Inside the band was more stars than you could count, thousands, easily. Outside the band whilst there were still stars, it was not nearly as populated) though our amateur eyes could be mistaken.
A day full of firsts, then. And with that, so to bed.
Monday, 9 February 2015
Day Eight - Mount Cook!
Day Eight already. Wow.
We've done a fair bit, but it also feels like these three weeks are flying by. Admittedly three of them consisted mostly of travel reports actually getting here (can't wait for transporters), but I'm hoping that by writing the events down it will somehow ground my memories and when I look back, make the whole experience seem longer. Make sense?
Day Eight saw us adventure around the playground of New Zealands tallest mountain Mount Cook. At 12,218 feet it stands around 3 times higher than the tallest mountain back home (Ben Nevis, 4,409 ft).
Unfortunately the weather was awful. It was the first day of rain, and wow did it rain. This meant that any chance of a helicopter ride were dashed as even if they could fly, the cloud would stop us seeing anything.
Instead, we hit the Lonely Planet guide once again and took a trip to Mount Cook village (the base camp) and headed out on the Hooker Valley trail, a route that took us right under the shadow of the mountain and promised spectacular views.
Because of the rain, no-one in the vicinity wanted to play. We had the whole mountain all to ourselves. It was misty, rainy, lonely and amazingly atmospheric.
For most of the journey I'll let the pics do most of the talking.
Once we reached Mount Cook, we found the cherry on the cake:
Yep. icebergs.
Icebergs!! Mount Cook and the surroundings is covered in glacier, so apparently icebergs can be quite a common site. Still, I wasn't expecting them at all.
To put the size of the begs into perspective, here's this shot. The tiny pixel of red on the far left is Yo.
You could build a house on there! Several, even.
We were even treated to pics of the summit of the mountain, which until then had been perpetually covered in mist. We'd walked through cold and rain to get there, and the mountain had honoured our sacrifice.
The walk further spoiled us with glorious sunshine for most of the walk back, and whist this gave some even more spectacular views of mountains no longer shrouded in mist, it also brought out every single hiker in the vicinity. I couldn't help but feel a little elitist as I trudged past the hundreds of people all trying to get a glimpse of Mount Cook now the sun had come out. We'd done it in much harsher conditions, and as such we'd been privileged to have the whole route to ourselves.
It certainly was a hike to remember.
We've done a fair bit, but it also feels like these three weeks are flying by. Admittedly three of them consisted mostly of travel reports actually getting here (can't wait for transporters), but I'm hoping that by writing the events down it will somehow ground my memories and when I look back, make the whole experience seem longer. Make sense?
Day Eight saw us adventure around the playground of New Zealands tallest mountain Mount Cook. At 12,218 feet it stands around 3 times higher than the tallest mountain back home (Ben Nevis, 4,409 ft).
Unfortunately the weather was awful. It was the first day of rain, and wow did it rain. This meant that any chance of a helicopter ride were dashed as even if they could fly, the cloud would stop us seeing anything.
Instead, we hit the Lonely Planet guide once again and took a trip to Mount Cook village (the base camp) and headed out on the Hooker Valley trail, a route that took us right under the shadow of the mountain and promised spectacular views.
Because of the rain, no-one in the vicinity wanted to play. We had the whole mountain all to ourselves. It was misty, rainy, lonely and amazingly atmospheric.
For most of the journey I'll let the pics do most of the talking.
Once we reached Mount Cook, we found the cherry on the cake:
Yep. icebergs.
Icebergs!! Mount Cook and the surroundings is covered in glacier, so apparently icebergs can be quite a common site. Still, I wasn't expecting them at all.
To put the size of the begs into perspective, here's this shot. The tiny pixel of red on the far left is Yo.
You could build a house on there! Several, even.
We were even treated to pics of the summit of the mountain, which until then had been perpetually covered in mist. We'd walked through cold and rain to get there, and the mountain had honoured our sacrifice.
The walk further spoiled us with glorious sunshine for most of the walk back, and whist this gave some even more spectacular views of mountains no longer shrouded in mist, it also brought out every single hiker in the vicinity. I couldn't help but feel a little elitist as I trudged past the hundreds of people all trying to get a glimpse of Mount Cook now the sun had come out. We'd done it in much harsher conditions, and as such we'd been privileged to have the whole route to ourselves.
It certainly was a hike to remember.
Day Seven - Drive to Omarama
Day seven and we were packing to leave our home for the past few days and south out of Christchurch. Ou final destination was a motel in Omarama near Mount Cook, but first we'd decided to take a detour into the mountains around Mount Sunday - the setting of Rohan during the Lord of the Rings movies.
On the outskirts of Christchurch we came across something that everyone must stop off at whenever they pass. A cookie factory with direct to customers shop fixed to the side. Yes, as the sign says it clearly was Cookie Time!!
$20 later but with over a kg of cookies on our backseat we headed off for Rohan.
...and promptly stopped at stunning views of the Rakaia river. The bridge that spans the river is New Zealands longest bridge, spanning 1.75km. The Rakaia is what's called a braided river, and offered some stunning views from the bridge, naturally we couldn't resist stopping for a closer look once we got off, but unfortunately the pics we took there didn't nearly do the complex network of rivers justice.
Once we left the Rakaia we headed inland, home of the Horse Lords and where roads long straight roads go on forever.
All through my childhood I fostered a dream of driving across the length of the US, taking in the sights of the rarer places you don't see on tv that much. I was never interested in LA or New York, but the rural areas of the US always spurred my imagination. The quaint towns and outback roads seemed ripe for adventure, and in many respects the drive to Mount Sunday offered amazing echoes from my imagination. The towns were quant, the roads went on forever, there was good music playing and amazingly sunny weather. As I put my foot to the accelerator, the world really did feel like my playground.
Eventually we reached a place called Hakatere Station just 30km away from Mount Sunday (where they filmed Edoras, the capital of Rohan in Lord of the Rings). Unfortunately the rest of the route was a very rural gravel track, and whilst suitable for 4x4s wasn't an option for my vauxhall rental car.
We decided to turn back to an equally impressive looking mountain a few kilometers back, Mount Barrosa, and do a little hiking.
Mount Barrosa
First of all, I'd like to point out that the weather fluctuated between 28-32 degrees as we hiked. Yes, it was that hot, and we walked up a mountain in it.
Fortunately - because we weren't sure any shops would be open on a Sunday - we'd brought several litres of water in the car with us, and these were hastily shoved into our packs before we climbed.
The going was tough - especially for me, I reckon Yo found it significantly easier, but then she is some form of marathon-running, 100-mile bike-ride, cybernetic hot-chick. Right from the start the track ascended steeply, and it only got steeper. At one point about halfway up, we now believe we actually veered off the track (accidentally) and continued the climb without any real path, cutting our way through gorse and shrubs, with loose and perilous sandy soil being the only thing for our boots to grip. I spent most of the ascent wondering how the hell I was going to get down again!
Finally, we made it to the top, and my worry drifted away as I was treated to some simply staggering views.
...and then it was time to come down. Though there was another way; now on the top, we had a great view of the path we lost, and we must have taken the hardest route there was to the top, for as we descended by a different route (to meet with the path) the footing was easy going, though we did meet up with some sheep who very kindly moved out of our way and climb a nearby hill, where they waited patiently in line for us to pass.
Once again at the bottom, we climbed back into our car, turned on the Air Conditioning, and headed further south to Omarama.
The Drive to Omarama
Wow, what views!
The 3.5 hour drive took us past Lake Takepo, which had such jaw-dropping water that we had to stop:
Lake Pukaki with views of Mount Cook, again, we had to stop:
And finally we reached Omarama and the end of an epic day.
...Almost.
The day had one more trick up its sleeve, for no sooner had we put down our bags in the motel than Yo wanted to go for another walk. Yesterday I called her a Kender, maybe now she's a pet dog? ;-)
The walk took us along a river that skirted the edge of the motel. Compared to the vistas of just a few hours before it was pretty, but in a low-key sort of way. Like a walk around the village pond.
It did sport this, however; Martian Red Weed:
Walk over, it was time to investigate food. Omarama sports a couple of cafe's and restaurants, and we thought chances were pretty high of getting something decent to eat. we did, however, completely forget it was 9pm on a Sunday.
As such, we found a cheese scone.
On the outskirts of Christchurch we came across something that everyone must stop off at whenever they pass. A cookie factory with direct to customers shop fixed to the side. Yes, as the sign says it clearly was Cookie Time!!
$20 later but with over a kg of cookies on our backseat we headed off for Rohan.
...and promptly stopped at stunning views of the Rakaia river. The bridge that spans the river is New Zealands longest bridge, spanning 1.75km. The Rakaia is what's called a braided river, and offered some stunning views from the bridge, naturally we couldn't resist stopping for a closer look once we got off, but unfortunately the pics we took there didn't nearly do the complex network of rivers justice.
Once we left the Rakaia we headed inland, home of the Horse Lords and where roads long straight roads go on forever.
All through my childhood I fostered a dream of driving across the length of the US, taking in the sights of the rarer places you don't see on tv that much. I was never interested in LA or New York, but the rural areas of the US always spurred my imagination. The quaint towns and outback roads seemed ripe for adventure, and in many respects the drive to Mount Sunday offered amazing echoes from my imagination. The towns were quant, the roads went on forever, there was good music playing and amazingly sunny weather. As I put my foot to the accelerator, the world really did feel like my playground.
Eventually we reached a place called Hakatere Station just 30km away from Mount Sunday (where they filmed Edoras, the capital of Rohan in Lord of the Rings). Unfortunately the rest of the route was a very rural gravel track, and whilst suitable for 4x4s wasn't an option for my vauxhall rental car.
We decided to turn back to an equally impressive looking mountain a few kilometers back, Mount Barrosa, and do a little hiking.
Mount Barrosa
First of all, I'd like to point out that the weather fluctuated between 28-32 degrees as we hiked. Yes, it was that hot, and we walked up a mountain in it.
Fortunately - because we weren't sure any shops would be open on a Sunday - we'd brought several litres of water in the car with us, and these were hastily shoved into our packs before we climbed.
The going was tough - especially for me, I reckon Yo found it significantly easier, but then she is some form of marathon-running, 100-mile bike-ride, cybernetic hot-chick. Right from the start the track ascended steeply, and it only got steeper. At one point about halfway up, we now believe we actually veered off the track (accidentally) and continued the climb without any real path, cutting our way through gorse and shrubs, with loose and perilous sandy soil being the only thing for our boots to grip. I spent most of the ascent wondering how the hell I was going to get down again!
Finally, we made it to the top, and my worry drifted away as I was treated to some simply staggering views.
...and then it was time to come down. Though there was another way; now on the top, we had a great view of the path we lost, and we must have taken the hardest route there was to the top, for as we descended by a different route (to meet with the path) the footing was easy going, though we did meet up with some sheep who very kindly moved out of our way and climb a nearby hill, where they waited patiently in line for us to pass.
Once again at the bottom, we climbed back into our car, turned on the Air Conditioning, and headed further south to Omarama.
The Drive to Omarama
Wow, what views!
The 3.5 hour drive took us past Lake Takepo, which had such jaw-dropping water that we had to stop:
Lake Pukaki with views of Mount Cook, again, we had to stop:
And finally we reached Omarama and the end of an epic day.
...Almost.
The day had one more trick up its sleeve, for no sooner had we put down our bags in the motel than Yo wanted to go for another walk. Yesterday I called her a Kender, maybe now she's a pet dog? ;-)
The walk took us along a river that skirted the edge of the motel. Compared to the vistas of just a few hours before it was pretty, but in a low-key sort of way. Like a walk around the village pond.
It did sport this, however; Martian Red Weed:
Walk over, it was time to investigate food. Omarama sports a couple of cafe's and restaurants, and we thought chances were pretty high of getting something decent to eat. we did, however, completely forget it was 9pm on a Sunday.
As such, we found a cheese scone.
Sunday, 8 February 2015
Day Six - Kaikoura
Our last full day at Christchurch, and we both weren't sure on the validity of staying around the locality for another day. We'd come to Christchurch for the memories of Yo's childhood, and we'd done that. We'd also seen the scale of the Earthquakes, and the effect it had on the city five years on.
Sure, if we looked hard enough in the guide books I'm sure that there would have been plenty for us to do, but when we were planning the trip we'd written off a day in Christchurch just for getting over jetlag. The fact that whilst we felt a little drained come 4 or 5 pm wasn't stopping us getting out and about, so we felt we'd won an extra day, and wanted to make full use of it.
After hitting the Lonely Planet guide book, Yo came across a Maori culture tour up in Kaikoura. It was about 2.5 hours drive to the north, but had won various wards and was mentioned in more than one guide book for being an excellent chance to learn some of New Zealand's history and their native culture. The following day would see us heading south, so this was an ideal chance to explore the northern scenery before it was too late.
Much of the drive took us through the Canterbury basin, a massive flat plain full of farms and wineries. Whilst the view of farms is a familiar site throughout the world, the golden fields were a welcome change to the bright yellow of the British fields of Rape.
Eventually we started getting to a mountainous region, and Yo took over the drive for fear of being travel sick on the windy roads - we also stopped for a coffee at a small roadhouse in the middle of nowhere...
...and met another Israeli couple speaking Hebrew.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the world.
The chances must be astronomical. It not like it was a cafe in downtown Christchurch or Queenstown - this was in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place where you step out and take a look around and there's nothing but a long straight road going in both directions to a vanishing point on either side.
No other settlements, buildings or outhouses. Just a cafe.
Though when you look at it, that might actually increase the chances. If there's no other cafe for miles around, then of course anyone on that road will stop. If you're in Christchurch where there's a cafe round every corner, the chances of running into another Israeli might actually drop, as there's more cafe's to choose from.
Still. I can't get away from the feeling that I'm being watched by Mossad.
Yo had a quick chat to them in Hebrew (though they didn't look impressed), and we headed off before they could radio in for back-up.
Kaikoura
We arrived around noon, to find Kaikoura to be a typical coastal tourist trap. Lots of shops selling tat at overinflated prices, signs for whale watching, surfing, fishing trips and other tourism related activities. It was also packed with people, and hot.
First thing we did was book the tour, and we were told to meet up at the Tourist Information centre at 13:30 - that gave us roughly an hour to kill, so we headed to the beach to eat the sandwiches we'd prepared earlier. The beach was a pebbled affair as opposed to sand, but I've come to the conclusion I actually prefer that type; sure, you can't build sandcastles, but the sand doesn't go in between your toes and cling to every part of your skin at the slightest sign of moisture. It's also comfortable to sit on - you wriggle your bum and create a nest in the pebbles that naturally conform to its shape. So that's what we did and we sat next to the ocean and ate lunch. The ocean itself looked to have a dangerous undercurrent and went deep very quickly, so we decided not to dip our feet - as an added sign there was no-one in the water. No-one, and it was hot.
After we ate, I sunbathed until it was time for us to leave (though really it was just me laying down with my hat over my face enjoying the sounds of the waves), and Yo busied herself tinkering about with pebbles and looking for interesting stuff. She's pure Kender, than one.
Maori Tour
Our Tour Guide, Maurice, picked us up at the appointed time, and along with another group of Americans we headed up into the hills in a small tourbus. The area was once home to the Ngai Thau, a Maori Tribe that was currently extremely wealthy and populous, and claimed all the land south of Kaikoura as its own.
He drove us to the remains of a Pa, which is Maori for fortified settlement. essentially it was just some earthworks nestled on the side of a cliff, but we were told it once housed up to a hundred people, and the land around it was once covered in Pa of different sizes.
As custom dictates, all the women of the group led us into the Pa whilst the Tour assistant, Ani, sang us a song of welcome. Afterwards, we were taught the hongi (the traditional method of greeting by touching nose to nose - once for friends and twice for newcomers). Everyone as told to hongi everyone else, which felt a little uncomfortable when a big bruiser of an american waddles up to you to get in your face, but it did demonstrate one of the useful side effects of the hongi - it made it significantly easier to tell friend from foe. The whole body language of two people leaning in to touch nose to nose is quite dissimilar to someone wanting to punch or stab you.
We then learned our Maori names and how to introduce ourselves using them. We each had to pick a mountain that was close to our hearts, a river, and canoe (or method of transport) followed by our last name then given name.
I chose Kinder Scout for my mountain (it was the first one I ever walked up, the first one I ever took Yo up, and I still enjoy climbing it), the river Don is right next to my work and I see it every day, and I chose my car for my canoe. Some people chose airlines, their boats or whatever - but I guess my car is something special now. After all, it is the first one I've ever bought.
Yo chose Kinder Scout, the Don and (not surprisingly) her road bike.
Finally we learned a little history of the Maori - they settled NZ 900 years ago, the Europeans came around 200 years ago. Just before that, they had a big fight with another Maori tribe from the north - the apposing tribe brought crap loads of muskets, whilst the Ngai Thau only had two. They were routed, and driven south, and it took many, many years for them to reclaim their rightful land. In the meantime the Ngai Thau adapted to European settlement, and began whaling and logging alongside them - the exact opposite of their cultural values just a few years before.
We then got back into the van and drove to a place by the ocean where we made flowers by using Maori techniques of weaving flax. This is not the flax found in the rest of the world, but NZ flax, which is completely different.
We also began learning a Maori song, which whilst not being a traditional sing (being written by the tour guides sister), was still very beautiful - more so when accompanied by a guitar.
Bizarrely, after the weaving we went to the tour guides own home to have lunch. I was expecting some traditional Maori food - but instead got egg sandwiches. I guess that embodies the change the Maori have gone through in embracing the western world. They whaled, the logged, and now they made egg sandwiches.
We did sample something traditionally Maori though - kowa kowa tea, it was supposed to be medicinal and made from - you guessed it - kowa kowa leaves. It had a gorgeous menthol taste that still burned an hour or more later. Unfortunately it's not commercially available, and Maurice pointed out that too much of it is actually unhealthy. Good thing it's not available to buy then, I suppose, cos I'd have bought a ton of it. Whilst we were there his sister did a superb rendition of the song we were learning which put us all to shame.
Finally, Maurice packed us back into the van again and drove us back into the hills, this time towards forest where he pointed out lots of plants and trees that Maori have traditionally used throughout the years - including one tree which was estimated to be over 900 years old, and alive during the time the first ever Maori settlers came to New Zealand. Thinking of something alive for that length of time and witness to so much history kind of blew my mind.
The walk over, we headed back to the van and our car to head home.
2.5 hours drive
Yo meeting another Israel in a coffee shop in he middle of nowhere
Kaikoura beach
Maori tour
-singing
-forest walk
-pa
-weaving
Sure, if we looked hard enough in the guide books I'm sure that there would have been plenty for us to do, but when we were planning the trip we'd written off a day in Christchurch just for getting over jetlag. The fact that whilst we felt a little drained come 4 or 5 pm wasn't stopping us getting out and about, so we felt we'd won an extra day, and wanted to make full use of it.
After hitting the Lonely Planet guide book, Yo came across a Maori culture tour up in Kaikoura. It was about 2.5 hours drive to the north, but had won various wards and was mentioned in more than one guide book for being an excellent chance to learn some of New Zealand's history and their native culture. The following day would see us heading south, so this was an ideal chance to explore the northern scenery before it was too late.
Much of the drive took us through the Canterbury basin, a massive flat plain full of farms and wineries. Whilst the view of farms is a familiar site throughout the world, the golden fields were a welcome change to the bright yellow of the British fields of Rape.
Eventually we started getting to a mountainous region, and Yo took over the drive for fear of being travel sick on the windy roads - we also stopped for a coffee at a small roadhouse in the middle of nowhere...
...and met another Israeli couple speaking Hebrew.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the world.
The chances must be astronomical. It not like it was a cafe in downtown Christchurch or Queenstown - this was in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place where you step out and take a look around and there's nothing but a long straight road going in both directions to a vanishing point on either side.
No other settlements, buildings or outhouses. Just a cafe.
Though when you look at it, that might actually increase the chances. If there's no other cafe for miles around, then of course anyone on that road will stop. If you're in Christchurch where there's a cafe round every corner, the chances of running into another Israeli might actually drop, as there's more cafe's to choose from.
Still. I can't get away from the feeling that I'm being watched by Mossad.
Yo had a quick chat to them in Hebrew (though they didn't look impressed), and we headed off before they could radio in for back-up.
Kaikoura
We arrived around noon, to find Kaikoura to be a typical coastal tourist trap. Lots of shops selling tat at overinflated prices, signs for whale watching, surfing, fishing trips and other tourism related activities. It was also packed with people, and hot.
First thing we did was book the tour, and we were told to meet up at the Tourist Information centre at 13:30 - that gave us roughly an hour to kill, so we headed to the beach to eat the sandwiches we'd prepared earlier. The beach was a pebbled affair as opposed to sand, but I've come to the conclusion I actually prefer that type; sure, you can't build sandcastles, but the sand doesn't go in between your toes and cling to every part of your skin at the slightest sign of moisture. It's also comfortable to sit on - you wriggle your bum and create a nest in the pebbles that naturally conform to its shape. So that's what we did and we sat next to the ocean and ate lunch. The ocean itself looked to have a dangerous undercurrent and went deep very quickly, so we decided not to dip our feet - as an added sign there was no-one in the water. No-one, and it was hot.
After we ate, I sunbathed until it was time for us to leave (though really it was just me laying down with my hat over my face enjoying the sounds of the waves), and Yo busied herself tinkering about with pebbles and looking for interesting stuff. She's pure Kender, than one.
Maori Tour
Our Tour Guide, Maurice, picked us up at the appointed time, and along with another group of Americans we headed up into the hills in a small tourbus. The area was once home to the Ngai Thau, a Maori Tribe that was currently extremely wealthy and populous, and claimed all the land south of Kaikoura as its own.
He drove us to the remains of a Pa, which is Maori for fortified settlement. essentially it was just some earthworks nestled on the side of a cliff, but we were told it once housed up to a hundred people, and the land around it was once covered in Pa of different sizes.
As custom dictates, all the women of the group led us into the Pa whilst the Tour assistant, Ani, sang us a song of welcome. Afterwards, we were taught the hongi (the traditional method of greeting by touching nose to nose - once for friends and twice for newcomers). Everyone as told to hongi everyone else, which felt a little uncomfortable when a big bruiser of an american waddles up to you to get in your face, but it did demonstrate one of the useful side effects of the hongi - it made it significantly easier to tell friend from foe. The whole body language of two people leaning in to touch nose to nose is quite dissimilar to someone wanting to punch or stab you.
We then learned our Maori names and how to introduce ourselves using them. We each had to pick a mountain that was close to our hearts, a river, and canoe (or method of transport) followed by our last name then given name.
I chose Kinder Scout for my mountain (it was the first one I ever walked up, the first one I ever took Yo up, and I still enjoy climbing it), the river Don is right next to my work and I see it every day, and I chose my car for my canoe. Some people chose airlines, their boats or whatever - but I guess my car is something special now. After all, it is the first one I've ever bought.
Yo chose Kinder Scout, the Don and (not surprisingly) her road bike.
Finally we learned a little history of the Maori - they settled NZ 900 years ago, the Europeans came around 200 years ago. Just before that, they had a big fight with another Maori tribe from the north - the apposing tribe brought crap loads of muskets, whilst the Ngai Thau only had two. They were routed, and driven south, and it took many, many years for them to reclaim their rightful land. In the meantime the Ngai Thau adapted to European settlement, and began whaling and logging alongside them - the exact opposite of their cultural values just a few years before.
We then got back into the van and drove to a place by the ocean where we made flowers by using Maori techniques of weaving flax. This is not the flax found in the rest of the world, but NZ flax, which is completely different.
We also began learning a Maori song, which whilst not being a traditional sing (being written by the tour guides sister), was still very beautiful - more so when accompanied by a guitar.
Bizarrely, after the weaving we went to the tour guides own home to have lunch. I was expecting some traditional Maori food - but instead got egg sandwiches. I guess that embodies the change the Maori have gone through in embracing the western world. They whaled, the logged, and now they made egg sandwiches.
We did sample something traditionally Maori though - kowa kowa tea, it was supposed to be medicinal and made from - you guessed it - kowa kowa leaves. It had a gorgeous menthol taste that still burned an hour or more later. Unfortunately it's not commercially available, and Maurice pointed out that too much of it is actually unhealthy. Good thing it's not available to buy then, I suppose, cos I'd have bought a ton of it. Whilst we were there his sister did a superb rendition of the song we were learning which put us all to shame.
Finally, Maurice packed us back into the van again and drove us back into the hills, this time towards forest where he pointed out lots of plants and trees that Maori have traditionally used throughout the years - including one tree which was estimated to be over 900 years old, and alive during the time the first ever Maori settlers came to New Zealand. Thinking of something alive for that length of time and witness to so much history kind of blew my mind.
The walk over, we headed back to the van and our car to head home.
2.5 hours drive
Yo meeting another Israel in a coffee shop in he middle of nowhere
Kaikoura beach
Maori tour
-singing
-forest walk
-pa
-weaving
Day Five - Exploring Christchurch
Day Five saw us take the car out of inner Christchurch and begin to explore our rural surroundings. Yo remembered visiting a small town called Lyttleton in her childhood, so we set our phones sat nav and went for a wander.
Getting to Lyttleton was fairly simple. A long tunnel cut the the middle of a large range of hills that cut the two settlements, and before we knew it, we were driving up Lyttleton's perilously narrow roads, set up on perilously high hills. Fortunately it was Waitangi Day (a public holiday celebrating the signing of the Waitangi Treaty between Maori natives and European Settlers; essentially 'creating' what is now known as New Zealand) so the roads were quiet and we could drive up and down the roads as slow and as cautious as we liked. We went down the same road so many times that at one pint a passer-by stopped us and asked if we were lost!
After a while we'd seen our fill, and parked up beside a vegetarian Cafe to enjoy a coffee and a brownie. It was the kind of place that used reclaimed furniture and quirky posters to give a hippie feel - it worked, but at the same time I got a bit of a pretentious vibe - quite the opposite from what they were trying to create, I suppose.
Coffee drank, we headed out into the hills. Destination: Victoria Park; a large nature reserve where Yo remembered visiting a few times (it had a really big slide, apparently). The only problem was that to get there we had to drive through a stretch of road called Dyers Pass, a stretch of road with cliffs, cliffs, cliffs. Large, perilous drops with very little between the road and death. In some places you got a slightly raised kerb, but mostly there was nothing. As I clenched my sphincter, I prayed that once we headed south in a few days and got to the true mountain ranges, that the roads would have a few more safety barriers...
Victoria Park
Victoria Park is a large open grassland with the occasional forest walk. Set high up on the hills next to Christchurch, it was pretty blustery, but the sun was out making it prime time for sunburn.
Yo remembered a playground with the worlds largest slide, so that was our first destination. Unfortunately it was full of kids, so we took a quick walk around the park. There were some great views of the Canterbury Basin, including incredibly distant snow-capped mountains.
As we wandered towards the visitor's centre, we had another reminder of the devastation and reach of the 2010/2011 earthquakes.
Finally we headed back to the car, and we caught a quick glimpse of an empty slide. Naturally, Yo couldn't resist.
Christchurch
In the afternoon we decided to head back to Christchurch and explore the city centre. Amidst a ruined district we found a place to park, and wandered vaguely towards the Cathedral.
I was amazed by the damage caused by the quake. Five years on, the demolition companies are still in full swing and must be one of the major sources of employment within the city. One in every three buildings within downtown Christchurch was damaged in the earthquakes, and most of them have been pulled down.
Cleverly, they've managed to spin some light into the overwhelming destruction - many of the buildings that were pulled down have since been levelled and turned into temporary car parks. Charging a couple of dollars per hour, it's not the expensive prices you'd expect in a city centre, but they get to make some money and there's always some place to park.
After a sunburning wander through the centre, we found another geek bar for food; Astro Lounge!
Yes, this was perhaps one of the greatest bar / coffee shop I'd ever been in. Set almost entirely outside under tarps and awnings, it was catering to a similar crowd to that morning's vegetarian coffee shop, but managed to pull it off much, much better. Choosing a table next to a gas heater, we chose our food. Yo had 'Asteroids around Uranus', whilst I chose the 'Stargrazer burger'. The food was great, and marked the first time I'd ever had beetroot on a burger.
During the meal, we noticed that that evening they had a jazz / soul singer (Kate Anastasiou) playing live music there. It was a few hours away, and as we both felt drained we decided to retreat back to our apartment for a couple of hours rest and come back later - it was well worth it. She played a mix of her own work with renditions of modern greats (with her own spin - a fair few of which it took awhile to recognise).
We stayed for a couple of hours, drinking coffees, hot chocalates and eating a fatty deserts (a doughnut with ice cream and raspberries sauce). It made me wish there was someplace like that in Worksop, but if there was it would soon close down - who wants to drink coffee when there's Jaegerbombs to neck??
Getting to Lyttleton was fairly simple. A long tunnel cut the the middle of a large range of hills that cut the two settlements, and before we knew it, we were driving up Lyttleton's perilously narrow roads, set up on perilously high hills. Fortunately it was Waitangi Day (a public holiday celebrating the signing of the Waitangi Treaty between Maori natives and European Settlers; essentially 'creating' what is now known as New Zealand) so the roads were quiet and we could drive up and down the roads as slow and as cautious as we liked. We went down the same road so many times that at one pint a passer-by stopped us and asked if we were lost!
After a while we'd seen our fill, and parked up beside a vegetarian Cafe to enjoy a coffee and a brownie. It was the kind of place that used reclaimed furniture and quirky posters to give a hippie feel - it worked, but at the same time I got a bit of a pretentious vibe - quite the opposite from what they were trying to create, I suppose.
Coffee drank, we headed out into the hills. Destination: Victoria Park; a large nature reserve where Yo remembered visiting a few times (it had a really big slide, apparently). The only problem was that to get there we had to drive through a stretch of road called Dyers Pass, a stretch of road with cliffs, cliffs, cliffs. Large, perilous drops with very little between the road and death. In some places you got a slightly raised kerb, but mostly there was nothing. As I clenched my sphincter, I prayed that once we headed south in a few days and got to the true mountain ranges, that the roads would have a few more safety barriers...
Victoria Park
Victoria Park is a large open grassland with the occasional forest walk. Set high up on the hills next to Christchurch, it was pretty blustery, but the sun was out making it prime time for sunburn.
Yo remembered a playground with the worlds largest slide, so that was our first destination. Unfortunately it was full of kids, so we took a quick walk around the park. There were some great views of the Canterbury Basin, including incredibly distant snow-capped mountains.
As we wandered towards the visitor's centre, we had another reminder of the devastation and reach of the 2010/2011 earthquakes.
Finally we headed back to the car, and we caught a quick glimpse of an empty slide. Naturally, Yo couldn't resist.
Christchurch
In the afternoon we decided to head back to Christchurch and explore the city centre. Amidst a ruined district we found a place to park, and wandered vaguely towards the Cathedral.
I was amazed by the damage caused by the quake. Five years on, the demolition companies are still in full swing and must be one of the major sources of employment within the city. One in every three buildings within downtown Christchurch was damaged in the earthquakes, and most of them have been pulled down.
Cleverly, they've managed to spin some light into the overwhelming destruction - many of the buildings that were pulled down have since been levelled and turned into temporary car parks. Charging a couple of dollars per hour, it's not the expensive prices you'd expect in a city centre, but they get to make some money and there's always some place to park.
After a sunburning wander through the centre, we found another geek bar for food; Astro Lounge!
Yes, this was perhaps one of the greatest bar / coffee shop I'd ever been in. Set almost entirely outside under tarps and awnings, it was catering to a similar crowd to that morning's vegetarian coffee shop, but managed to pull it off much, much better. Choosing a table next to a gas heater, we chose our food. Yo had 'Asteroids around Uranus', whilst I chose the 'Stargrazer burger'. The food was great, and marked the first time I'd ever had beetroot on a burger.
During the meal, we noticed that that evening they had a jazz / soul singer (Kate Anastasiou) playing live music there. It was a few hours away, and as we both felt drained we decided to retreat back to our apartment for a couple of hours rest and come back later - it was well worth it. She played a mix of her own work with renditions of modern greats (with her own spin - a fair few of which it took awhile to recognise).
We stayed for a couple of hours, drinking coffees, hot chocalates and eating a fatty deserts (a doughnut with ice cream and raspberries sauce). It made me wish there was someplace like that in Worksop, but if there was it would soon close down - who wants to drink coffee when there's Jaegerbombs to neck??
Day Four - Let the tour begin!
So the previous night we were so exhausted we were asleep within minutes of getting to bed. The night before I'd managed to call upon a well of hidden endurance, and hand wash my stinking clothes. We awoke at about 6.30am having slept for about 8 hours, not bad for a day we'd written off for jetlag! We felt a little drained, but certainly up for a day of exploring!
We caught the bus back to the airport, enquired about our bags (Yo's had been found, mine not - but he seemed to think that they may both be on the same flight, and we'd fine out when they were delivered), bought a sim card for Yo's phone, and picked up our rental car. The car was a Vaughan, blue, automatic, and nicely compact. It came with us for our music (nice!), and plenty of cup holders. You can always tell the quality of a car by the cup holders.
Car firmly in possession, a whole city to explore? What would you do? Explore some culture? Get up into the local hills? We went to McDonald's.
McDonald's.
They serve pies, have their own cafe with barista's and everything. They even do soy coffee. Different world from the MaccyDs back in the UK.
In fact I've decided whenever I go to a new course try, I'll endeavour to sample a McDonalds. I reckon you can suss out the cultural identity of a country by what their McDonald's are like. I think I'm on to something.
After quite an excellent coffee, we got back into the car and went exploring Yo's old neighbourhood. It had changed quite a bit. Her house was completely different. Knocked down and rebuilt from the ground up. They even relocated where the drive used to be.
Yo had already heard about the change, but still seeing it was quite a jarring experience. If i want to see where I grew up, I just walk down the street to my mums house. I see it every week and have never even thought about it not being there anymore. A whole portion of my life erased from the face of the earth like it had never been. I'd find it quite sad, but Yo took it in her stride.
The local shop she used to buy sweets from was also closed, and a local garage had been turned into a new Dairy (the NZ term for market shop). Fearing dehydraton, I bought something called L&P lemonade from there and immediately fell in love.
We then sought out a few of her locations that she remembered; a bridge, a couple of parks and an old friends house (also gone). As we drove around, it became quite apparent that Christchurch was nowhere near to recovering from the 2010/2011 Earthquakes - though I'll leave my thoughts on this for another post.
After we'd taken a visit down memory lane, it was time to meet up with some old friends - see, at the time Yo's family moved to Israel, some of her families friends were also making the move. Miraculously, they were also visiting New Zealand the same time we were, and whilst we tend to meet up with them whenever we go to Israel, the timings seemed too perfect. After a quick phone call, we agreed a time for them to pop round to our apartment and caught up. They brought their three children with them (who fell in love with the grapes we'd just bought from the shop), and whilst they amused themselves, the grown ups reminisced on old times. Fitting, considering we'd spent the day visiting the same places they'd grown up!
After they'd gone it was too soon to go to bed, but we were feeling pretty drained, so we took a (long) stroll on the beach, walking up to the pier where we watched a party of men catch crabs whilst we felt strangely like we were intruding.
Now truly exhausted, we slogged it back home and went to bed.
We caught the bus back to the airport, enquired about our bags (Yo's had been found, mine not - but he seemed to think that they may both be on the same flight, and we'd fine out when they were delivered), bought a sim card for Yo's phone, and picked up our rental car. The car was a Vaughan, blue, automatic, and nicely compact. It came with us for our music (nice!), and plenty of cup holders. You can always tell the quality of a car by the cup holders.
Car firmly in possession, a whole city to explore? What would you do? Explore some culture? Get up into the local hills? We went to McDonald's.
McDonald's.
They serve pies, have their own cafe with barista's and everything. They even do soy coffee. Different world from the MaccyDs back in the UK.
In fact I've decided whenever I go to a new course try, I'll endeavour to sample a McDonalds. I reckon you can suss out the cultural identity of a country by what their McDonald's are like. I think I'm on to something.
After quite an excellent coffee, we got back into the car and went exploring Yo's old neighbourhood. It had changed quite a bit. Her house was completely different. Knocked down and rebuilt from the ground up. They even relocated where the drive used to be.
Yo had already heard about the change, but still seeing it was quite a jarring experience. If i want to see where I grew up, I just walk down the street to my mums house. I see it every week and have never even thought about it not being there anymore. A whole portion of my life erased from the face of the earth like it had never been. I'd find it quite sad, but Yo took it in her stride.
The local shop she used to buy sweets from was also closed, and a local garage had been turned into a new Dairy (the NZ term for market shop). Fearing dehydraton, I bought something called L&P lemonade from there and immediately fell in love.
We then sought out a few of her locations that she remembered; a bridge, a couple of parks and an old friends house (also gone). As we drove around, it became quite apparent that Christchurch was nowhere near to recovering from the 2010/2011 Earthquakes - though I'll leave my thoughts on this for another post.
After we'd taken a visit down memory lane, it was time to meet up with some old friends - see, at the time Yo's family moved to Israel, some of her families friends were also making the move. Miraculously, they were also visiting New Zealand the same time we were, and whilst we tend to meet up with them whenever we go to Israel, the timings seemed too perfect. After a quick phone call, we agreed a time for them to pop round to our apartment and caught up. They brought their three children with them (who fell in love with the grapes we'd just bought from the shop), and whilst they amused themselves, the grown ups reminisced on old times. Fitting, considering we'd spent the day visiting the same places they'd grown up!
After they'd gone it was too soon to go to bed, but we were feeling pretty drained, so we took a (long) stroll on the beach, walking up to the pier where we watched a party of men catch crabs whilst we felt strangely like we were intruding.
Now truly exhausted, we slogged it back home and went to bed.
Friday, 6 February 2015
Day Three - The Arrival
So after getting the good news, I spent a few hours in Abu Dhabi trying to sleep. I'd been up for around 42 hours, and whilst adrenaline and general uncomfortable conditions had kept me awake for so long, I was very conscious of the health benefits of actually trying to get some sleep before boarding a 13 hour flight. Airplanes are not comfy, and i knew once I got aboard I'd find sleep hard to find.
The problem is airports are very similar. It's like they do their best to prevent anyone getting comfortable - plastic chairs, constant announcements and airport cleaning crews all did their very best to stop me sleeping.
So I went for a wander.
Through security, Abu Dhabi has very little in the way of food and drink - but they do have an art exhibition. Crazy 3D sculpts of Islamic scriptures that when they have light shone on them from a certain angle, casts a shadow that looks like a man praying. Incredibly cool and mind boggling.
So 6 hours after getting the good news I was boarding a plane to Sydney. Unfortunately due to Australia's strict airline security policies, our bags hand luggage had to be opened up and inspected at the gate (as well as x-rayed at both ends when going through security). All in all, individually inspecting everyones luggage took over an hour and the flight was considerably delayed. Not good, when you only have a two hour window to get your next flight...!
By now I'd been up 48 hours and was hoping to get some sleep on the plane... but not too much; as it happened, the final plane would land in Sydney at 14.30. By the time the wife arrived at 17.30 and we'd gotten to the hotel it would be the natural time for bed. If i could remain sleepy until that time, then I just might avoid jet lag. Maybe.
So I got on the flight. It was 13 hours in total, and around 10pm Sydney time. I resolved to stay up until Midnight, sleep for 8 hours, and be wide awake and refreshed come Sydney morning. Jet lag avoided!
Then three sets of parents got on the plane, all with new born, and all three of them sat on the bulkhead seats with the extra legroom and cot facilities. I was sat one row behind.
There goes the idea of sleep.
The babies cried. A lot. They cried on takeoff, they cried at every bit of turbulence, they cried when other babies cried, and they cried just for the normal stuff that babies cry about. When they weren't crying they were playing. Noisily.
Anyway, 13 hours later I arrived at Sydney and began the rush to the next plane; they were already boarding the Christchurch plane even before the Sydney one had landed. I had 50 minutes to get the planed towed to where it need to be, disembark, board the shuttle, go through security and find the gate. It was going to be tight.
Fortunately I wasn't alone. There must have been 30 of us on the plane all trying to get to Christchurch. Some of us (like me) already had boarding passes given to us at Abu Dhabi, others didn't, and had the added stress of finding the transit desk to pick up the next set of tickets. Feeling generous, I took a few of their names, and promised to tell the attendants at the gate to wait for them.
I barely made it. I'd been awake for 60+ hours, and the run to the gate was not pleasant. I also stank, so who knows what the attendant thought of me.
Anyway, I eagerly handed over my boarding pass to be told it wasn't valid. This was an Etihad ticket, and i was now flying Air New Zealand. It was ok, they said, all I needed to do was find the Transit Desk and they'd issue me with a new Boarding Card. BUT I NEEDED TO DO IT NOW.
D'oh.
So I ran back to the Transit Desk to find the same people who I'd taken names from all in the queue in front of me. All of them being told they couldn't board the next flight as it was too late for check-in. They were very angry, and understandably so. It wasn't their fault the flight was delayed!
Fearing the worst, I approached the desk expecting to be told the same thing - but no! My Etihad ticket meant I was already checked-in! All I needed was a new Air New Zealand ticket printing instead. Phew.
New ticket in hand, I gave condolences to the stranded people, and flew to the gate.
The flight was great! It had cheesy Lord of the Rings safety messages (you have to see Gandalf telling you how to brace to truly appreciate it), and a hot girl sat next to me. She had bought a cheap ticket and wasn't allowed food, so after she'd finished arguing about it with the air hostess I offered her my fruit and biscuits.
Three hours later, I breathed in the New Zealand air. Yeah baby!
Security was a breeze, I got a visa nice and easy, and then waited forever for my luggage that never arrived. To be honest I was expecting it. Too much had gone wrong on the flights for them to route the luggage properly. It could've been on the original flight to Melbourne, could still be in Abu Dhabi, or it could have been stuck in Sydney cos they didn't have enough time to unload and reload it.
I filed a report, bought a NZ sim for my phone, and waited for Yo.
A few hours later we were reunited with hugs, kisses, and commiserations that we'd both lost our luggage. Again, I wasn't overly surprised.
Happily together again (though smelly and exhausted), we went in search of a bus to take us to the first of our apartments... 72 Marine Parade, Christchurch.
The problem is airports are very similar. It's like they do their best to prevent anyone getting comfortable - plastic chairs, constant announcements and airport cleaning crews all did their very best to stop me sleeping.
So I went for a wander.
Through security, Abu Dhabi has very little in the way of food and drink - but they do have an art exhibition. Crazy 3D sculpts of Islamic scriptures that when they have light shone on them from a certain angle, casts a shadow that looks like a man praying. Incredibly cool and mind boggling.
So 6 hours after getting the good news I was boarding a plane to Sydney. Unfortunately due to Australia's strict airline security policies, our bags hand luggage had to be opened up and inspected at the gate (as well as x-rayed at both ends when going through security). All in all, individually inspecting everyones luggage took over an hour and the flight was considerably delayed. Not good, when you only have a two hour window to get your next flight...!
By now I'd been up 48 hours and was hoping to get some sleep on the plane... but not too much; as it happened, the final plane would land in Sydney at 14.30. By the time the wife arrived at 17.30 and we'd gotten to the hotel it would be the natural time for bed. If i could remain sleepy until that time, then I just might avoid jet lag. Maybe.
So I got on the flight. It was 13 hours in total, and around 10pm Sydney time. I resolved to stay up until Midnight, sleep for 8 hours, and be wide awake and refreshed come Sydney morning. Jet lag avoided!
Then three sets of parents got on the plane, all with new born, and all three of them sat on the bulkhead seats with the extra legroom and cot facilities. I was sat one row behind.
There goes the idea of sleep.
The babies cried. A lot. They cried on takeoff, they cried at every bit of turbulence, they cried when other babies cried, and they cried just for the normal stuff that babies cry about. When they weren't crying they were playing. Noisily.
Anyway, 13 hours later I arrived at Sydney and began the rush to the next plane; they were already boarding the Christchurch plane even before the Sydney one had landed. I had 50 minutes to get the planed towed to where it need to be, disembark, board the shuttle, go through security and find the gate. It was going to be tight.
Fortunately I wasn't alone. There must have been 30 of us on the plane all trying to get to Christchurch. Some of us (like me) already had boarding passes given to us at Abu Dhabi, others didn't, and had the added stress of finding the transit desk to pick up the next set of tickets. Feeling generous, I took a few of their names, and promised to tell the attendants at the gate to wait for them.
I barely made it. I'd been awake for 60+ hours, and the run to the gate was not pleasant. I also stank, so who knows what the attendant thought of me.
Anyway, I eagerly handed over my boarding pass to be told it wasn't valid. This was an Etihad ticket, and i was now flying Air New Zealand. It was ok, they said, all I needed to do was find the Transit Desk and they'd issue me with a new Boarding Card. BUT I NEEDED TO DO IT NOW.
D'oh.
So I ran back to the Transit Desk to find the same people who I'd taken names from all in the queue in front of me. All of them being told they couldn't board the next flight as it was too late for check-in. They were very angry, and understandably so. It wasn't their fault the flight was delayed!
Fearing the worst, I approached the desk expecting to be told the same thing - but no! My Etihad ticket meant I was already checked-in! All I needed was a new Air New Zealand ticket printing instead. Phew.
New ticket in hand, I gave condolences to the stranded people, and flew to the gate.
The flight was great! It had cheesy Lord of the Rings safety messages (you have to see Gandalf telling you how to brace to truly appreciate it), and a hot girl sat next to me. She had bought a cheap ticket and wasn't allowed food, so after she'd finished arguing about it with the air hostess I offered her my fruit and biscuits.
Three hours later, I breathed in the New Zealand air. Yeah baby!
Security was a breeze, I got a visa nice and easy, and then waited forever for my luggage that never arrived. To be honest I was expecting it. Too much had gone wrong on the flights for them to route the luggage properly. It could've been on the original flight to Melbourne, could still be in Abu Dhabi, or it could have been stuck in Sydney cos they didn't have enough time to unload and reload it.
I filed a report, bought a NZ sim for my phone, and waited for Yo.
A few hours later we were reunited with hugs, kisses, and commiserations that we'd both lost our luggage. Again, I wasn't overly surprised.
Happily together again (though smelly and exhausted), we went in search of a bus to take us to the first of our apartments... 72 Marine Parade, Christchurch.
Tuesday, 3 February 2015
Day Two - Adrenaline and Anguish
3 am, and I've been sitting in a sterile office around the size of a departure for almost 5 hours. I've asked for news twice, each time was told they were working on it, and daren't ask again. If I seem pushy they could just throw their hands in the air and tell me theirs nothing they can do, or charge me another £1k for a ticket. I hate not knowing, the wait is killing me, and I aren't risk going to the toilet in case at that moment someone comes out and shouts my name. They have my passport, my boarding pass, and my bullocks.
A few hours beforehand, a crying Irish woman comes in with a pushchair and a toddler. She was also supposed to the the same flight as me, but lost track of time and utterly missed the flight. She's a mess. A weeping, wailing, red faced mess, and she's apologising to the toddler who clearly has no idea what's happening. She just wants the juice box the attendant her.
But oh, is it working for her. She has three Etihad attendants around her trying to cheer her up. Even I find myself throwing sympathetic smiles at her. Within twenty minutes they've got her a flight to Melbourne on the next day, more food vouchers than the population of Ireland, and a complementary hotel.
Meanwhile I'm left thinking that they probably only save 1 or 2 seats on flights for emergencies such as this, and there's a good chance she just nabbed it. Suddenly my sympathetic smile isn't so smiley.
So back to 3 am, the Irish woman has long since gone to find her free bed, and it's just me and this other couple, one of which has lost their passport. To my horror I discover they're from New Zealand, and were also on the same connecting flight.
They're also getting way more attention than me, who so far hasn't has a single person come to me that wasn't chased.
Caught between wanting to cry and kick up a fuss, I instead decide to retreat inside my tablet and watch a Top Gear episode I'd downloaded for the flight. Take my mind off things while keeping beady eye on the New Zealand couple. I sourly note that they're able to call their embassy without an Arab yelling at them to call 050 first.
Top Gear finishes, they're still trying to sort out their passport issue, when finally, at just before 4am I see man walk out with my passport in his hands. He has a boarding card. My heart is in my throat. Please don't be for 4 days time. Please please please.
10 am!!! Jackpot! 6 hours and I would be on the plane to Sydney (Yo was on her way to Melbourne), then a 2 hour stop off before a plane to Christchurch. All free.
I thank him, shake his hand multiple times and even say God bless - which I realise a few minutes afterwards probably wasn't the best thing a Christian could say to a Muslim, but I'm pretty sure he got the gist that I was amazingly thankful.
I WhatsApp Yo (who bought wifi on the plane so she could keep in touch) and tel her the good news. Funnily because she had a 12 hour layover in Melbourne, initial investigations looked that I might even beat her there!
All grins and smiles, I try and get some sleep. We'd gambled, and it looked to have paid off.
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