Although our epic sailing adventure across the Pacific came to a premature end in Fiji, New Zealand was our ultimate destination when we first set out from Panama. So despite disembarking from the yacht in Suva, Rob and I still made plans to head to the Land of the Long White Cloud, Aotearoa in Maori!  Firstly because I had never been there, and we didn’t know when we’d next be “in the area”, and secondly it was a good opportunity for Rob to visit his sister and her family after 10 or so years of not seeing each other.  After enjoying the time in Fiji, we departed from Nadi on 13 September bound for Auckland.  It was an uneventful flight on Air New Zealand and although delayed, the safety briefing before taking off made up for it – a video with some of the All Blacks rapping the safety features to the theme song of the movie “Men in Black”.  Good to hear so many chuckles from the passengers!   So we land in Auckland and queued for immigration, only to be told there is an immigration alert on Rob’s passport and we got pulled over and told to wait for a supervisor.  After waiting ten minutes we had a short interview, had to give Rob’s sister’s details for a background check, to then be told to go collect our bags and come back.  After some red tape we eventually got our passports back with a three month stamp.  A bit of a nerve-wrecking entry into the country!  After that little bit of a delay, and still having to queue to go through customs, as well as wait for the bus shuttle into town, it was about 02h30 in the morning before we got to bed that night!  And Rob got his laughs by seeing me dressed like the Michelin Man; I was absolutely freezing in the icy temperatures of the lower latitudes after having been in the Tropics for the past eight months!

The next morning was a wander around Auckland city centre, strolling down trendy Queen Street with all its brand shops and coffee bars.  We went up the Sky Tower, the highest building jump in NZ at 192m to street level, and the tallest free-standing structure in the Southern Hemisphere.  Despite having the SkyJump available, we weren’t courageous enough to tackle that and stuck indoors!  Our brave moment was standing on the glass floor peering down at the ground below us.  That afternoon we walked to the suburb of Mt Eden and walked up Mt Eden hill, just one of the many dormant or extinct volcanoes dotted around Auckland and got some great views of the crater itself, the city, harbour and North Shore.  I’ll say this very early on in this blog post so I don’t repeat myself.  In all the cities and towns we visited in New Zealand, we were blown away by how clean and neat everything was, litter and graffiti free, with even the public toilets kept in good condition and continually stocked with toilet paper.  We really appreciated the fact that it is a very pedestrian friendly country with wide pavements, walking and cycle lanes.  We only saw about three vagrants, but were never hassled.  We even saw the police engaging with them making sure that they hadn’t been drinking and were keeping out of trouble.  The next day we caught the ferry across the harbour to the “urban, seaside village” of Devonport.  Devonport is one of Auckland’s oldest suburbs, and home to the navy.  Being very picturesque, the area was made up of doll-like wooden houses with intricate lattice work around the Victorian style wrap-around verandas, complete with white picket fences!  There was a frigid wind blowing so after wandering up North Head to explore the old gun placements, bunkers and tunnels used during the war to protect Waitemata Harbour, and exploring the streets, we headed back to the YHA at lunchtime.

After a brief visit in Auckland, we headed to Rotorua, a four hour bus ride away.  We used the Intercity service, and in most cases with our bus rides, we nabbed the front two seats to get the best view during the ride.  The Intercity bus service was particularly enjoyable because the bus drivers used a microphone and provided ongoing commentary about the places we passed, and this was the case on most of our bus journeys.  There was even free Wi-Fi available on the bus, just in case the views outside the windows weren’t captivating enough!  We saw plenty of sheep grazing on rolling green hills, a characteristic sight, and each time we passed through a new town, the words most commonly out of our mouths were “What a pretty town!”  As soon as we arrived in Rotorua we dropped our bags and headed to Te Puia Geothermal Valley and wandered around the reserve, spotting various bubbling mud pools, which can reach temperatures of 95°C, and steaming geysers emitting quite a strong whiff of what smells like farts after a few too many fried chicken dinners!  The valley was formed 240 000 years ago by volcanic activity, and sitting down waiting for the Pohutu geyser eruption, we burnt our bums on the hot rocks as we listened to the muted roar of thousands of litres of water boiling underneath us.  They say water temperatures in the geyser chambers can reach 300°C but it couldn’t have been too hot on that particular day as ducks were enjoying a bath on the surface.  There are approximately 500 mud pools and 65 geysers dotted around the area, and on our wanderings we came across two dormant geysers, with Mother Nature turning off their pumps a good few years ago.  Our second day saw us wandering the town, past the old colonial style Government House now home to a museum, and past an old Boer war monument dedicated to a New Zealander killed in the war.  We really enjoyed our time in Rotorua, the only downside being the eggy fart-like smell emanating from the street drains!

The next day we caught an afternoon bus to Wellington via Lake Taupo and past Mt Ruapehu, one of the highest mountains in NZ, standing tall at 2797m, although the day we travelled the peak was shrouded in cloud and only caught glimpses of its snow-covered slopes.  From forest covered landscapes and fast flowing rivers dotted with trout fisherman braving the elements, it was a stark contrast hitting Desert Road.  As the name suggests, it’s a road cutting through harsh, dry scrubland often used for military training.  Eventually we arrived in Wellington after dark and the icy cold wind was a slap in our unprepared faces as we walked to the YHA 2km down the road.  The warmth of the hostel was a welcome relief!  The next day involved watching Fiji lose to England in the RWC, sad face, and thereafter a walk around town, first stop at the Museum Art Hotel, which was literally picked up and moved 120m when the government wanted to demolish it.  Thereafter we visited Te Papa, the museum of NZ, which was a bit wasted on us but it at least provided a respite from the driving rain outside.  A break in the weather and we made a dash for Lambton Quay and up the funicular to the top of Mt Victoria and got some good views overlooking the harbour.  Stayed indoors mostly after that because of the foul weather.  It was pouring with rain the next day but we braved the outdoors for a while to wander through the famed Sunday market which was just supermarket fruit and veggies put on display.  Wellington gets blasted by weather fronts coming over the Tasman Sea; the guidebooks even say don’t bother with an umbrella, wear a waterproof windbreaker instead!  All I can say is the expensive rain jacket I bought before leaving SA definitely got its use in New Zealand!

A couple of days later we decided it was time to head south.  We waited at the YHA before catching a bus to the airport, which took us through the narrowest single lane tunnel we have ever seen.  That evening we caught a flight to Christchurch for a Jennings reunion!  We ended up spending a week with Rob’s sister Sheryl and her kids while Scott, her husband, flitted around for work.  Sheryl was great in taking us around in the mornings while the kids were at school, and afternoons we wandered around the city.  It’s a shame I didn’t get to see Christchurch before the devastating 2011 earthquake as now it’s just a city of gravel parking lots of where beautifully old stone buildings used to stand.  Derelict buildings stand abandoned, often with the word “clear” spray-painted on the sealed entrance – a sign that there were no bodies when rescue teams swept the buildings searching for victims.  Facades are covered with scaffolding, and the city rings with the sounds of jackhammers and cement mixers.  A quirky mall has developed as a result, with the shops all being converted shipping containers, with the area being named “ReStart Mall”!  The Avon River was flowing as strongly as ever as the city gets rebuilt, with the traditional Punting on the Avon still going strong – the English version of going on a gondola!  We were lucky enough to spend two nights at the family’s holiday house in Akaroa, about 100km from Christchurch.  A former French settlement it was a wonderfully quiet village with some quaint shops along the main road – my favourite being the fudge shop!  We enjoyed some good ‘tramping” – kiwi lingo for walking/hiking – through the countryside, dodging sheep poo as we climbed higher up the hill to get a great panorama over the Banks Peninsula.  Once back in Christchurch we went to watch Canterbury lose to Taranaki in a well-contested rugby match.  Canterbury’s mascot Larry the Lamb was a great source of entertainment!  We were also spoilt by being taken to Porters ski field a couple of days later where I had my first experience on skis!  Although extremely apprehensive on the drive up into the mountains, I took to skiing like a duck to water and had an absolute blast!  For four hours the family only caught glimpses of me as I was up and down the slope, time after time, and I was grinning from ear to ear when I was called back to the car!  I stuck to the beginners slope for the most part, but attempted the intermediate slope once and ended up with a very wet bum.  Next skiing excursion will involve a lesson from a pro who can teach me to turn!

At the end of September we said a temporary farewell to the family and headed to the West Coast.  We have two standout journey’s from our time in New Zealand, and one of them was definitely catching the KiwiRail TranzAlpine train as we traversed our way over (and through) the mountains separating East from West.  As the train steamed higher up into Otira gorge, we caught dazzling views of the mighty Waimakariri River, 151km long and ice fed from the Southern Alps.  The high Southern Alps were formed by two tectonic plates pushing against each other along the very active Alpine Fault, making them the fastest growing mountain range in the world.  The rivers on South Island are crystal clear and fast-flowing, and being mineral rich, they have a brilliant icy blue colour; one could get hypothermia just by looking at them!  After a short stop in Arthur’s Pass to discharge passengers, we had a full safety briefing as we prepared to enter Otira tunnel, which was one of the longest tunnels in the British Empire, and one of the few that is not flat with a 1:33 descending gradient.  Our destination was Greymouth, a former gold-mining town, but now a simple tourist town which doesn’t really warrant a stay longer than an hour!  After a night in a strange hostel in town, we headed to the township of Franz Josef for three nights.  Our trip down had us hugging the coastline for most of the journey, and after seeing so many advertisements for the famed “West Coast White Bait fritter” I decided to try one in Hokitika.  Excited at the prospect of some novel Kiwi cuisine, all I got was a few pieces of white bait (little fish, sprats) cooked with egg to make an omelette, which was squished between two slices of white bread!  Another great thing about the bus service is that is also acts as a freight/delivery service, dropping off parcels in backwater towns where the bus driver is greeted like a long lost friend!  So on our way to Franz Josef we passed through the smallest town in New Zealand, Pukekura, with a total population of five (yes, five!) following a baby boom a couple of years ago.  Possum Pete (the local version of Crocodile Dundee), his wife and three children reside there, and because his homestead has a post centre, it is classified as a town!  He is famous for making possum pies which have subsequently been banned by the government, and his bushman centre is often fondly referred to as Roadkill Restaurant.  The “town” is slightly off the beaten track so the daily newspaper is delivered via bus, and in true newspaper delivery style, the paper is tossed out of the window into the driveway without the bus stopping.

We arrived in Franz Josef village mid-afternoon, and of course it was raining again!  Franz Josef is one of the big glaciers on the West Coast but unfortunately is receding quickly.  We spent most of the time in the hostel due to the weather, with an occasional stroll along the main road to get weather updates from the helicopter operators.  My conversation with one of the pilots went something like this…

Me: Hi there, do you think the weather will clear enough to fly?

Him: Not likely.

Me: But we can see the mountain now?

Him: If you can see the mountain, it’s going to rain.  If you can’t see the mountain, it is raining.

The pilot showed me the synoptic charts and typical, the weather was only going to clear when we left (we were on a schedule to meet the family at a later date).  Back in the day when Rob first visited, he was lucky enough to take a walking tour on the glacier itself.  Nowadays the ice has retreated back, making the glacier’s terminal face unstable and unsuitable for access by foot, only by helicopter.  We seriously considered a helicopter trip but Mother Nature didn’t think it was a good idea.  Luckily we had a break in the relentless rain to take a hike through the valley to a viewing point to see the terminal face.  It is hard to believe that the valley we hiked through was once completely filled by a frozen river!  We timed our hike perfectly; 100m from the car park the heavens just opened again, but thankfully an umbrella, rain jackets and boots ensured we were well protected.  All the literature about visiting the national park said “Be Prepared” yet there were still some people in shorts and t-shirts who got drenched in the downpour.  The mulled wine for sundowners with no sun that evening warmed our chilled bodies well!

At the beginning of October we headed to Queenstown.  I mentioned previously two standout journeys, and the bus ride from Franz Josef to Queenstown is definitely one of them.  Our first driver, Steve, thought himself a comedian, punctuating his commentary with jokes and one-liners, referring to competitor bus service, Kiwi Experience, as the Scary Experience.  Steve proved to be a photographer’s dream driver but the Highway Patrol’s worst nightmare, often slowing down and sometimes stopping completely, regardless if we were on a single-lane bridge, so the passengers could snap off a few pics.  Rob took full advantage considering this was probably one of the most scenic bus rides ever.  The West Coast is often referred to by natives as the “Wet” Coast considering the amount of rain it gets, and it shows with miles and miles of lush rainforest complimented by a beautiful backdrop of snow-capped mountain peaks.  Before arriving in the town of Haast, Steve piped up to say the next bridge we would cross was named after his ex-girlfriend.  The bridge was named “Windbag”!  I was just waiting for another ex-girlfriend reference when we stopped outside the Grumpy Cow café for a bathroom break!  We were extremely lucky not to have any South-Westerlies blowing the day we travelled; with no wind to bring the rain the air was extremely clean, with the mountain features so sharp we could make out every crevice and jagged peak against the clear blue sky.  As we moved out of the West Coast and into the Otago region, the terrain became much drier, and we entered New Zealand’s fruit bowl of Wanaka, with plenty of fruit orchards lining the countryside.  After skirting The Remarkables mountain range, we arrived in the expanding and apparently thriving Queenstown.  Although not really our kind of place being a small city filled with hard-core adrenaline junkies, we almost felt like we needed to whisper that we weren’t there to experience the famed jet boating or to try and kill ourselves on one of the extreme downhill mountain biking trails.  We took the cable car up Queenstown Hill and enjoyed the view over the town, Lake Wakatipu and surrounding mountain ranges.

From Queenstown we travelled by bus to the small town of Te Anau which was to be our base to visit Milford Sound.  Passing endless green pastures dotted with livestock, we caught sight of plenty of spring lambs prancing around – a very cute sight until you realize how good lamb tastes on a dinner plate!  Our bus driver mentioned that you know an area has received plenty of rain is when all the sheep have middle partings along the centre of their backs where their fleece has parted as a result of becoming completely sodden!  On our excursion to the sounds we stopped alongside a grassy plain which was one of the locations for a big battle scene in the Lord of the Rings movies.  The journey to Milford took us into real Alpine territory; the scenes we were treated to on our way up the mountains were breath taking.  Surrounded by high mountains on all sides, we saw evidence of recent avalanche activity, with a lot of snow drifts where snow and ice had tumbled down from the cliffs above.  Once we arrived in Milford we boarded a boat and went for a cruise on the fjord, a narrow and deep inlet of the sea surrounded by high cliffs.  Rudyard Kipling previously referred to Milford Sound as the eighth wonder of the world.  And thanks to all the rain the area had had, water was streaming down the cliff faces in torrents, creating white spidery veins of water against a dark cliff face, as well as gushing waterfalls, some of which the captain of the boat actually went under.  We enjoyed a barbeque lunch on board and while munching away the Captain sidled up to a pod of fur seals lazing on the rocks, however there wasn’t much sun for them to bask in the warmth of on that particular day!  We continued on to the entrance of the 15km long fjord where the Tasman Sea literally rolls into the sound, causing the boat to rock quite considerably as we turned to head back to base – child’s play after eight months crossing the Pacific!  Waiting for the perfect shot of Mitre Peak, the scene which epitomises Milford Sound and the subject of all the postcard pictures, we saw we could only get the photo from the shore!  But the boat ride was still fun and a different way to experience the sounds.  On our way back to Te Anau we stopped at an area called The Chasm where a river has created a deep gorge and eroded the rock into marvellous formations.

After Te Anau we headed to Dunedin via bus to meet up with the family.  It was an uncomfortable bus ride for me as we were joined by a strange duo who, typically, decided to take the seats directly behind us in an otherwise relatively empty bus.  The pair consisted of an elderly lady who had smells of old mothballs wafting off her and her equally aged son with a crazed look to him and the wiry hair of someone who stuck his fingers in a live electrical socket and enjoyed it.  The son who may or may not have lost his marbles along his life’s journey sang incoherently for most of the journey with the occasional random outburst or response of “maybe that was when I was in the hospital” to a comment made by his mother.  I was also treated to the sound of him continually rubbing the upholstery of the back of my seat and half expected some gnarly fingers to come sneaking past the headrest and start fondling my hair.  Thankfully we only had to endure this for a couple of hours before arriving in Dunedin and joining the family who had rented a holiday house overlooking Dunedin harbour.

That concludes our journey from north to south!  Read more about Dunedin and our meanderings from south to north in the next post!