My favourite view from Lake Pukaki

Since the white water rafting things have slowed down a bit, they had too as you can’t maintain these type of activities unless you have a money tree to pick from.  So for our last day in Queenstown we had a wander round the town and sampled some of the sumptuous watering holes on offer.  The sun was shining, the beer was cold and all of the things that irk you about travelling were forgotten.  I’ll never complain about travelling but it does come with its down sides.  In between doing the plethora of activities on offer you can sink into a state of homesickness.  Whilst you up a mountain, or climbing a glacier taking in the fantastic views you forget your a million miles from home and all your creature comforts but when your cramped in the back of your van, its relentlessly pissing down with rain and on the 9^th attempt you finally get an internet connection, you look at your spiralling bank account and think, never under estimate a salary, a stable income and a little normality in your life, something I never thought I’d say. To add to this you quite often look and feel like a tramp and whilst some people enjoy that, we both despise it.  I haven’t had a bath for five months and soaking for at least an hour is high on my list of things to do when I’m home.  You miss certain foods, Aussie and in particular NZ grub is good but I miss a good sausage – no pun intended.  Gravy, ohhh what I’d do for a good gravy roast dinner, they are like rocking horse shit over here.  If you enquire about a Yorkshire pudding people look at you like you have crapped in their shoe, “yes love, it’s a batter like the one you make a pancake with but savoury and served with roasted meat” table for two 6^th of January at your mum’s dining table, yes please.

View of Mount Cook

I’m sure there is a hundred people out there that would swap with us to do what we are doing and your right, I’m not complaining but in all honesty, I have had a fantastic time living out something I have dreamed about doing for the last 10 years but I’m just about ready to come home.  New Zealand is a fantastic beautiful country as is Australia.  Sydney is one of the very few cities in the world where I could easily live, in a strange way when we fly back there on Christmas Eve for the last week of our travels part of me will feel like I am going home to a place I know but I need a wardrobe, an iron, a bed that is mine and I don’t have to put together every day, my family, my friends, using my own kitchen without a German cooking his beetroot or cabbage, a game of footy…I could go on.   

Each resort you stop at offers a similar type of activities, certain places do unique trips but most places offer the same type of thing and we have pretty much done them all. This does mean that we are running out of new things to do, which aint a bad thing as we are almost out of money, thankfully Marls is great at planning and budget management and without her we’d of probably been home in November after I blew all our budget on a bender in Sydney. 

The mighty Mount Cook which has claimed 200 lives

With this in mind you look to do the things that don’t cost a cent and fortunately in a place like NZ Some of the best things are free, visiting Mount Cook and Mt Cook village was one of them.  Two hours in Hovis from Queenstown and straight away the scenery becomes much more dramatic.  The mountains are capped in pearly white snow and everything is a damn site bigger.  Mt Cook stands at just under 3755 metres and is the biggest mountain in Australasia, it is huge.  The first people to climb the beast where three local guys spurred into action after failed attempts by Europeans.  They reached the summit on Christmas day 1884 and since then over 200 people have died trying to climb it, the last being an experienced guide in 2008.  We had no intentions of being 201 and 202 so were quite happy to view it from the bottom.  It’s an amazing site and puts all the other mountains you have seen in perspective. We had  our caffine injection in the Sir Edmund Hillary exhibition centre, Ed used the mountain as a training camp and warm up for his Everest climb, and then it was back to our campsite just down the road.  The views where amazing from our campsite and watching the sun set on Mt Cook was awesome.  Stuff paying to go on a boat in a hope to see some big fish splashing around, this was far better and free! 

Two weeks to go and as I’m writing this from the back of my van in a place called Kaikoura, the cold wet weather has just began to set in after three days of sunshine.  Another day here tomorrow then back to Christchurch where we will stay until we leave NZ.  Christmas will be spent with our surrogate friends in Bondi Christmas day being a champagne brunch then BBQ on the beach.  Boxing day will probably be much of the same, beach, booze then bed.  We have booked a six hour boat trip under the Harbour Bridge partying in the New Year and watching the stunning firework display.  All the Wine, Champers, Beers, spirits and food chucked into the price, can’t wait.  New Year’s Day will no doubt start with the mother of all hangovers but we won’t have time to be ill as we are off to a Glastonbury type festival (without the mud) in the Botanical Gardens overlooking the Opera house and Harbour bridge which will no doubt offer more booze.   We are both really looking forward to what will be a very different festive period so who am I kidding, this is great, quit moaning you big girl!!

If only it was like this

After having a crazy few days of doing what is typical NZ activites ie Glacier climbs, Bungy jumps we thought we’d continue the white knuckle theme with some White Water rafting. My hydrophobia meant that I was actually more afraid of this than jumping off a bridge but you should do something that scares you everyday and rather than opt for the more sedate Kawarau river I insisted on tackling the Shotover river.  The rivers rapids are given a level of difficulty rating 1 being something as dangerous as a bath and 5 being close to something you’d see Bear Grylls tackle with a bamboo boat and piece of fishing wire. Shotover river had rapids rated at 4/5 and in my own little mind I fancy myself as a bit of Bear Grylls so figured go for the stupidly difficult and dangerous one.  I did question if my act of bravado was a wise one when the lady booking our tour upon hearing my decision stopped and said, “you are a good swimmer right?” Even Martel wasn’t keen and looked at me and said, “you sure?” but as always I opted for my tried and trusted method of, say yes to something and then worry about it afterwards.

The day started with an 8am pick up and I was cranky until I imbibed large quantities of coffee, not good on an empty stomach as I was now shaking like Dean Martin on a dry day and talking shit to complete strangers on the bus ride to the river. If the bus ride was an indication of how dangerous the day was about to be I was happy to take the offer of my money back as our driver; a young lad who wouldn’t look out of place in Busted or Linkin Park, took us up a mountain and round tracks that had gigantic signs clearly saying, “buses are forbidden from taking this road”.  Calling it a road was like saying Ian Huntley was great with kids as it was more of a dusty gravel track just wide enough for the bus to pass through with 150ft drops to certain death on both sides.  I won’t lie, at times I closed my eyes and hoped for a painless demise.  As if all this wasn’t dangerous enough we were pulling 5 20ft inflatable boats, absurd, you’d never be allowed to do this in the uptight UK.

On arriving at our starting point yet again you were in awe of the sheer beauty that surrounded you, like most rivers that flow through the various valleys this fast flowing river was fuelled by glacier water making it crystal clear and bright blue due to the mineral content.  If our existence on this planet was going to be snuffed out, what a place to go.  We were kitted out in our 5mil thick wet suites which when on looked more like a gimp suite, a crash hat, splash jacket and life jacket all adding to notion that this was one dangerously stupid river.  My wet suit was so tight round my unmentionables that the wedgy I had going was in danger of slicing me in half like a cheese cutter on the deli counter at Tesco.  It also meant that if whilst attempting to wrestle the boat through a rapid I was overcome with nerves and sharted myself the resulting jet would be similar to that experienced when you put your finger over the hole of a running tap.

We were given a safety briefing on what to do and what not to do which you immediately forgot upon entering the boat and off you went.  Our guide was a Brazilian chap who when attempting to converse in English reminded me of Sacha Baran-Cohen’s latest character Bruno.  He would often use the wrong words in the wrong place giving a totally different meaning to what he was trying to tell you, not good when your relying on him in an emergency.  Our boats crew consisted of Mario the adrenalin junky Brazlian who insisted on screaming and shouting “yeah, woooo” with every splash of water, an Australian father and daughter who’s co-ordination made the chuckle brothers look like ballroom dancers, two female American graduates who looked more frightened than me, Martel and Bear Grylls – oh that’s me!

After all the worry, all the promise of near death experiences, the obligatory signing of a disclaimer relinquishing the company of all liability in the result of an accident, it was all quite tame.  The good weather had dried out the river and a shallow river equates to a relatively smooth ride.  I say relatively as we did accidently hit one rapid backwards and at one point there should a been a cry of “bundle!!” as we all inadvertently piled into the middle of the boat.  As for accidents they only manifested themselves, as expected with our two American graduates.  The first happening during ‘the bundle’ as a head butt into the back of Martels crash hat, something Martel never felt, left one of the poorAmercian lass’s counting her front teeth.  The second happened when our guide shouted “hold something, go down on it” (what he meant was ‘hold on, get down’, shouted in order to prevent you from falling out whilst tackling a grade 4 rapid) something the second American took a little too literally as she smashed her nose on a vacant wooden paddle in front of her.  This blooded her nose but she had such a protruding proboscis you barely noticed the difference.  My heart rate did race a couple of times but that could have been down to my wet suite almost drawing blood, I’m not sure.  I felt a little cheated as we reached the end having only incurred a few minor flesh wounds and a new butt crack, in future check the weather forecast and if you want to experience real danger, go when it’s rained for 2 days and the levy’s are at bursting point, for now I’m happy to still be alive despite my early reservations and continuing my adventure across NZ.

Mirror lakes - where everything looks like it does in a mirror

Yesterday saw us drive a further 2 ½ hour from our campsite in Te-Anau to a place called Milford Sound. It is one of the biggest tourist attractions in NZ with about half a million visitors a year – a lot of them come to walk (or Tramp as they call it over here) the famous milford track which takes four days to complete! As the guide books warn trampers to pack serious amounts of wet weather gear and wear appropriate foot wear- we thought we would give the walk a miss and we booked ourselves onto a relaxing Milford Sound Cruise!

The cruise provided some breath taking scenery but I can’t help thinking that we spoilt it a bit for ourselves by travelling through the Marlborough Sound on the ferry from the North Island to the South Island.  The views were identical showing us rocky cliffs rising from the dark still waters, the forests clinging to dear life on the sheer slopes – the only difference, was yesterday we saw some pretty impressive waterfalls, one of which called the Stirling Falls which our skipper insisted on driving the boat into,  and as we had found a lovely little spot outside we got wet!! ! Let me tell you, it was bloody cold!!! 

Just like at home after a big xmas dinner

The other difference of yesterday’s boat trip (and my highlight) were the long haired seal pups which were basking in the sun on one of the rocks!  The skipper cut the engines and we drifted close enough to the rock to be able to see their faces – they really were not worried by us and if anything seemed a little put out that we were interrupting their sunbathing!

All in all a good day – not our best but you can’t come all the way to New Zealand without seeing the Milford Sound.

The waterfall our boat went under !

When I woke up on the 13^th of December 2009 I had no idea what I was to do later that day.  In some ways it’s a blessing in disguise as ignorance is bliss but on the flip side you need to mentally prepare yourself for certain things that life will throw your way.  This really was something that was thrown at me as to be perfectly honest it was never high on my list of things to do in NZ or before I die for that fact, still when faced with something that challenges me I will hit it head on and rise to the occasion.  On the road between Wannaka and Te Anau lies the birth place of something very special to NZ.  It’s the spiritual home of something which NZ has become synonymous for, something that a lot of people travel miles to see and do, something so special you have to be a little special to do it.  On November the 12 1988 a thrill seeker named AJ Hackett threw himself from the Kawarau bridge officially opening the world’s first full time bungy site and here forth the bungy phenomenon began. 

I was actually busy writing a blog when Martel made this unscheduled stop and I never even saw the signs which made her stop so when I looked up and saw where we were I was quite surprised.  I had picked up some of the leaflets from the various Information centres but really not given them any thought as to their whereabouts. 

The girl who thought about it and thought about it

We walked through into the viewing area and positioned ourselves at about the same level as the jumpers and watched as a girl cogitated her jump simply delaying the 43metre drop.  I watched in amusement as she stalled and then stalled and then sat down saying “I need more time”  I was laying bets that she would bottle it and as she shuffled back out of site I was convinced I had backed a sure looser.  To my amazement she jumped up and walked straight off the edge and fell into her 5 second free fall before bouncing back up “good girl” I said, “but let’s be honest it’s not that hard, doesn’t look to high at all” oh how I would come to rue that comment as Martel turned to me and said “you do it then, it’s easy for you to say from here”….. That was all the incentive I needed, I turned and walked back to the camper to put on my trainers all the way thinking “is this a good idea?” then thinking “it’s a lot of money, do I really wanna spend this?” but I’d made my mind up and there was no going back now.  Martel wasn’t interested in the slightest in doing a jump and this suited me down to the ground as she could be my camera person and benefactor of my extensive wealth should my mass of muscles snap the bungy cord or should I plunge into the sea and not bounce back up wedging my head between two unseen rocks, who was I kidding!!  To my absolute amazement I was met by a sheepish nervous looking Martel saying “I can’t have you do something like this on your own, I’m doing it as well!!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, not only did she want to jump but she wanted to jump attached to me! I am a walking liability and possibly the unluckiest person alive but I wasn’t even going to attempt to talk her out of it as the thought of us both plunging to our demise was quite romantic – I’m sure our family wouldn’t see it like that.  So that was that, we signed up paid our money and we were about to jump 145 feet tied only by our ankles, together! 

Don't look down!!

We slowly walked to the bridge and suddenly you were aware of just how high you were about to fall.  From the side view the bridge doesn’t look to high but when you’re standing looking down, let me assure you, it looks bloody high.  In these sorts of situations I’m my own worst enemy as I analyse everything, the wind, the surroundings, the state of the ropes, all the time looking for something out of the ordinary that may cause a chain of events that end in catastrophe.  The guy tying our bungee cord kept asking the time and seemed in a rush, “nearly time to leave off he said”.  That was the last thing I needed to hear as when I’m in a rush to get home the only thing that’s really on my mind is finishing and getting home.  To say I was concerned he had made a rush job of the knots he had tied round our ankles was an understatement but it was too late now.  We were tied and stood up and facing the sheer drop below us.  Your told ‘don’t look down’ but the first thing you do is look down, I did it and so did Martel.  Ducks animal life 2 miles away heard her exclaim “fuck” as the realisation of what I her competitive nature had coaxed her into struck her.  I shuffled forward to the edge of the platform trying not to fall, what was I thinking, I was about to jump I thought.  A quick smile to the camera, a quick wave to the watching crowd and… wait a minute…. “Let go of the bridge Tiny Dancer” the bungy crew asked, there is only one Tiny Dancer up here I thought, “let go of the bridge Tiny Dancer” he said again.  I’m not sure even Martel knew she was still clasped to the bridge so a quick look back and a “Marls, let go, come on” and 3-2-1 Bungy!!!!

What were we thinking?!

What went through my mind in the next few seconds is a bit if a blurr but I do quite clearly remember thinking “if I don’t go on 1 I’ll never go and I’m not letting my girlfriend drag me off the platform and then brag about how she had to pull me over the edge” I also remember thinking “re wire your brain like a plug as everything in your body and mind will be telling you not to jump so I just ignore it” It worked, we jumped on 3 no hanging about and let me tell you throwing yourself off a perfectly good bridge is an awful as the few seconds you free fall you quite honestly feel like you’re going to die but the adrenalin rush after is awesome.  The whole time you’re falling your praying that you bounce back up, thankfully we did.  We have dvd proof, profanities and all so look forward to showing you all when we get back home!

Dressed for a glacier climb

 

When we woke on the morning of our Fox Glacier walk you knew it was going to be a wet day as it was grey, chilly and the rain was showing no signs of relenting.  It had rained so much during the night and previous day the grass was water logged and large lakes had started to form round our campervan.  The damp had got into our camper and mould had started to form on some of the curtains.   I was starting to wonder if we would catch Ebola sleeping in a camper van that smelt like a football boots that had been left wet in the bottom of your bag for a week or two. 

Never the less in true British style we soldiered on despite the fact neither of us really had clothing that was appropriate for going out in the rain let alone a walk on a lump of Ice in a valley of mountains.  Martel had some combat trousers which were light and suitable for all the walking, she also had a semi water proof coat and several layers to keep away the cold.  I on the other hand only had jeans in the trouser department so figured to minimise the amount of surface material that could get wet I should go for a pair of shorts; water proof ability 0, thermal properties 1.  I only really had t-shirts and one fleece which when wet would probably weigh the same as me so I decided to wear my rash vest which I figured keeps me warm when I surf so it’s good for a glacier walk, winner; water proof ability 8 thermal properties 7.  As we arrived at the Glacier walk HQ it was immediately clear I was underdressed for the occasion.  Whereas I looked ready for the beach most people looked like they were about to undertake some sort of trek to the polar cap.  Walking boots, neatly pressed chino like trousers with endless zips to secret pockets and removable bits that transform full length to shorts that if I’m honest I actually quite fancied a pair of and proper rain Macs that don’t make you look like you spend your weekends in train stations reeking of pantries whilst your nocturnal activities see you turn into a deviant who has a penchant for alter boys and bestiality.  I was the person who turned up to a fancy dress party in my normal clothes whilst everyone else had made an effort; damn it and I bloody love a fancy dress party.   Luckily for me the company we used provided appropriate clothing for idiots like me who come dressed like me and I was kitted out with Private Benjamin boots complete with number and size on the back; I always find this a little annoying as the dudes with size 12 feet strut around deliberately wearing trousers that are too short to draw one’s attention to the fact they have size 12 ft, as if to say “Don’t know if you noticed back there but, yes that’s right ladies, size 12 feet and a huge great penis, oh yeah, gidigy gigidy” 

As I left for the glacier I caught sight of myself in the window, there I was waterproof trousers, slightly too short in the leg, rain Mac on with hood up and smelling of pantries, I worried myself as my stare locked on a friendly looking Alsatian who looked like he loved the taste of toe jam …. I digress.  Safety in numbers as whilst I definitely looked like a weirdo so did everyone else as 95% of the group had also borrowed the pervert costume. 

Hard work for someone so little

 

The walk up to the glacier was around half an hour and across mountainous land that wouldn’t look out of place on the set of lord of the rings.  Running beside us was a raging torrent powered by the melting glacier personified by the heavy rain.  It flowed past with frightening power carrying with it fallen rock and what can only be described as icebergs. It was a nonchalant display of power as no man could lift what this river was carrying with such ease.  With every step nature reminds you its boss as the guide looked constantly on edge just in case a rock fell from the towering mountains that surrounded us.  We traversed up cliffs, passed over knee dip fast flowing rivers and eventually reached the glacier.  There was a noticeable drop in temperature and the rain was now falling with torrential pace making the glacier complete death trap.  Fear not as our boots were now fully blinged up with an accessory called a crampon.  This amused me at first as I thought I was about to attach something to my boots which has a more common use for menstruating ladies and incontinent gay men but as funny as it would have been to attach a tampon to my boot they would give me no grip on ice, likewise a crampons would make a nasty mess if used in a similar fashion of that which a tampon is used for.  

Made it!!

 

There we stood soaked through, shivering with the rain pounding down as hard as I had ever experienced but you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the spectacle that surrounded us.   It was so so strange yet at the same time breath taking to be on top of something so volatile, so powerful, I can only imagine it’s how Martel feels when she lies next to me in bed.  The whole time we walked on the glacier you kept stumbling across deep holes with crystal clear glacier water flowing through them, I even drank a load to see if it made me sick but it tasted like the purist water imaginable.  An Asian girl asked if it tasted nice and I replied “it’s lovely have some” she replied “no thanks, I’m not like you English who drink tea from tea pots that look like they could grow teeth” touché young lady I thought!  

It rained but the smile lived on

 

A couple of times you heard what sounded like thunder as the rain forced the glacier to crack and something would fall from above, like on an aeroplane during turbulence I looked at the guide and if he didn’t loosed fazed neither was I.  After around 30 minutes on the glacier we headed back and not a moment too soon as the rain had caused the rivers we passed to swell now making them almost impassable.  A couple of times it really didn’t look safe and this was optimised when one of the other group fell whilst passing the river and dislocated his shoulder.  For once neither myself nor Martel where injured and we got back to the bus safely.  For all those that say there is no such thing as bad weather just inappropriate clothing I say bollocks as we both had appropriate clothing on but we were still soaked through to the pants which is ironic as it was one of the very few days I wore some!  By far the best day I have had in NZ thus, good times! 

More pics….. 

This gives you an ideal of the size of it as Marls is quite far away

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

View from the bottom

   
  

Soaked but smiling

Scary!

Things are getting really good.  It seems the further south you go the more dramatic the scenery gets.  We have been heading south for the last week and whilst doing so scaling the west coast of NZ at the same time.  Unfortunately after leaving Kaiteriteri Mother Nature has been exceptionally unkind and it’s bombed it down for 90% of the time. According to local folk it’s not a holiday on the west coast unless it rains, if I’d of known that I might have packed something more than my Freddie Mercury vest and shorts. 
On the road down to our next major stop Franz Joseph we passed some of the most beautiful but frightening scenery I have ever seen.  Being a coast line it has some awe inspiring beaches, but for all the wrong reasons.  I’m not talking white sand and blue sea, forget that, standing on the beaches of the west coast of NZ you really get the impression your on the edge of the world and its bloody frightening.  It’s hard to explain, even for someone who spouts as much bullshit as me but, even the pictures don’t really do it justice.  It was cold, grey and misty, the waves were as powerful as the mighty surfer’s paradise and poking out of the water like dormant land mines were sharp nasty looking black rocks waiting to smash anyone who dared to venture into the sea.  For someone like me who is petrified of deep water a scene like this is about as scary as it gets.  I had Goosebumps looking at the sea and after taking the pictures I scarpered off the sand like a cat with the wind up its tail.   Despite being somewhat perturbed by the sea you can’t help but admire the sheer power it exudes, there was a reason not a sole could be seen for miles  on these beaches and let me assure you it was nothing to do with the weather it was just frightening.

Every journey you take on this route needs at least an hour added on to it as you make so many unscheduled stops all be it to either take pictures or just stand and gawp mouth wide open at the awesome views.  I’m a total sceptic and to impress me something has to be pretty damn special.  When people harp on about how wonderful NZ is I always take it with a pinch of salt  as its very easy to follow the hype of what’s been said before, so before coming here I had preconceptions that this place was gonna be amazing which meant to impress me it had to be mind blowingly amazing.  I’ll be honest, the North Island was ok, it was good but not amazing, I have had equally if not better times sat in various eastern European pubs with my mates.  The South Island started slowly but the further down the island you go the better it gets.  My eyes thanks to Specsaver contact lenses have seen some of the most amazing things I think I will ever see in my life and that’s coming from a person who has seen Melinda Messenger in her prime bent over exposing her pants signing t-shirt’s on the Sun Newspapers page 3 tour bus; she’d done well for herself but she was nothing more than, nice.

Timed this pic just right

One of the many stop off on route was the pancake rocks and blow holes.  In my mind this sounded amazing as if you say it with a slight speech impediment it sounds like a perverse sex act and something to eat, and that sound bloody marvellous!  Yet again we were blessed with typical English December weather, drizzle and blowing winds but this was perfect weather to fully experience this particular stop.  The pancake rocks where self explanatory, a formation of rocks that are layered on top of each other making them appear to menials like a pile pancakes.  Nothing to impressive but the raging tide which was hurtling round the rocks had created small holes.  The force of the water propelled the water up the holes creating a chimney like effect, a real crowd pleaser.  After taking a few snaps the sight of something resembling pancakes just made me hungry and it was back to the camper and on to our final destination for the day.

Greymouth was our spot for the night, nothing particularly interesting to report about this place, it rained a lot and made the campervan incredibly cold.  The next morning was another early start as we had more driving to undertake to the next notable stop, the Glacier Region.  Now if you like me you actually believe glacier’s in particular Fox Glacier to be a mint, whilst not entirely wrong, the purpose of our visit here had nothing to with the amuse-bouch which present themselves in traditional mint or fruit flavour. 

Not at all what I was expecting

These particular Glaciers are giant lumps of snow and ice forming in the mountains and forcing themselves down through the valleys.  The result is something quite spectacular if not a little out of place in an alpine region.  Whilst glaciers can be found all over NZ Franz Joseph and Fox are the only two glaciers that you can walk, hike or tramp on.  Today’s adventure was only about observing the Franz Joseph as we had booked a hike on the Fox Glacier and whilst standing at the bottom and admiring this freak of a spectacle was quite something the highlight of my day had to be finding Ambrosia Rice Pudding in the local supermarket and consuming all of it in under 2 minutes in the back of my camper, thank you Ambrosia!

The day Rob burned his neck, arm, side torso.........

Miles after miles after miles, good god there is a lot of driving involved with travelling New Zealand.  Admittedly there was also a lot of driving involved with the east coast of Australia but we did that stretch in eight weeks and we are trying to cram the whole of NZ into a month.  This equates to hours and hours behind the wheel of ‘the Hovis’ without the use of a jack plug for the Ipod as this thing is so old AC is about the extent of the mod cons. I did bring a nifty little radio tuner so I could tune in the Ipod via radio frequency but it kept playing up and in a fit of rage I threw it out of the window somewhere near Brisbane.  No doubt some sugar cane farmer is now looking at it wondering what sort of device it is from the future!

Fortunately the views keep you entertained that and the fact a moments lapse in concentration will see you fall down a cliff a prospect that ensures me and Marls regularly high five and swap driving seats just like Lemans drivers.

The last picture we took before the battery died!

Yesterday (08.12) we had a half day sea kayaking in a place called Kaiteritiri.  The best way to describe Kaiteritiri is a beach.  That’s it, oh I beg your pardon, it has one shop which claims to be a supermarket but unless Chilli Con Carne with tuna is your idea of an evening meal, from a tin may I add, its self proclaimed title of supermarket is a little over zealous. It also has two overpriced restaurants and a camp site, which is actually quite good.  We parked up in the spot nearest to camp facilities and no that’s not a set of facilities just for people like me. 

The sea kayaking was great, its as close to the sea as I ever want to get without actually going in it.  My heart rate stayed below 150 beats per second which is unheard of when nautical activities are involved and I actually quite enjoyed myself.  We were told that the kayak’s have the nickname of ‘the divorce boat’ as so many couples board there vessels and immediately start bickering about who isn’t paddling fast enough and how the person steering at the back has no sense of direction.  I’m pleased to say we where an exception to this rule as I took the back seat meaning I was in charge of steering the vessel and Martel was on iceberg alert and camera duty.  Much to my annoyance the battery died on the camera soon after launching which meant that Martel was simply in charge of directing us past any large rocks and when she felt like it a bit of paddling. It’s amazing what a little responsibility does to a person as she soon turned into Obergruppen Fuhrer and I accepted that I was simply the deck hand who paddled like a slave  for his majesty and steered that damn thing with my feet rudders, easy, well easy to avoid a barney anyway.  Breath taking views and copious amounts of sea life all added up to a superb half day kayaking all be a painful one for me, kayak’s are made for short people with long arms, I’m neither.

Since arriving at our camp site we have had a large group of adolescent girls on what seemed to be a school trip camping next to us.  My initial thought was they will be larking about into the early hours of the morning and I could see a few obscenities being bellowed out at 2am as they ran around camp pissing about, well I was wrong.  The group of girls never really played up at all and where in fact very well behaved. Yesterday afternoon two of the girls ran back to camp looking distressed and out of breath. It was obvious they were looking for the “two adults” who were looking after them as they frantically searched for them.  When they asked me if I had seen them I thought it would be funny to tell them that I had seen them leave holding hands heading for the showers.  That couldn’t be any further from truth as a: they had gone in the opposite direction and b: they were never holding hands.  The two girls where clearly grossed out by the very prospect of this and with that they ran off.  About half an hour later we saw the male “adult” from the group and he informed us that the problem was serious as one of the girls had slipped whilst on a play area not too far from camp and he was now taking HIS DAUGHTER to hospital as it looked like she had broken her arm…..opps.  A group of 14-15 year olds and I’m the one who shows myself up, 30 going on 15.

In the Hovis on route to the Fox Galcier, I always thought that was a mint but apparently there are some awesome walking trails there, how confusing.

Serene yet almost impossible to get to

I’ve been in New Zealand just over a week now and whilst the scenery is some of the finest I have ever seen with my two eyes it is also one of the most bizarre places I have ever been. It has to be the most in hospitable place in the world, first off the roads are so bad, we must pass temporary road works every hour slowing you down to 40k, then there is the windy mountainous roads which at times make you nip your butt cheeks so tightly that you couldn’t fit a fag paper between them. Looking over the edge as you pass a sheer drop is the worst thing you can do as it in a strange way pulls you in towards them. Then there is the weather. Most of the time you’re so high your driving in the clouds which makes it dangerously foggy, then the rain will hit you catching you completely unaware as you struggle to shut the windows and sky light. Worst of all this place is basically one big volcano waiting to go off without any warning. Rotarua as amazing as it was proved just how volatile this place is, as at any given moment one of the many volcano’s could go off killing hundreds yet the locals happily live next to these giant killers seamlessly unperturbed by this frightening prospect. Doesn’t matter who you ask you pretty much get the same answer “oh that’s ok, that aint gone off for thousands of years so it’s no drama” Just because Charles Bronson has been in prison for years doesn’t mean if he comes out he won’t butcher someone again given a chance! IF you ask me the longer these volcano’s sit dormant bubbling away the more likely they are to go off. Then there is the other small fact of NZ sitting on top of three separate tectonic plates all pulling in different directions giving NZ the delightful nickname the ‘Shaky Isles’. A stupid amount of earthquakes are recorded in NZ every year but again the locals don’t seem to be bothered. Lastly this is one of the most baron places I have ever been. Whilst driving from place to place at times the phrase ‘In the middle of nowhere’ has never been better suited to a anywhere I have ever been. Just the other day we had to stop as to water ourselves as my mouth was dryer than a nuns chuff and I suddenly became aware that I was in a place similar to where Luke Skywalkers parents live in return of the Jedi. Didn’t matter what way you looked there was simply nothing for miles and miles. No water was running and plant life only existed in some dusty dry old bushes, I got back in the camper and drove pretty quick realising that no one would hear me scream if I encountered some nomad who wanted to boil me up for a light snack. More times now than I care to recall we have been in the depths of some valley where radio signal is reduced to a crackly mumble and Martel has broken into song reciting every primary school hymn she could recall, at moments like this I’d give anything to be back home with a pint of Stella in my hand watching the premiership of telly! Despite all this when the sun shines doesn’t matter where you are the views are by far the best I have ever seen, forget the Trevi fountain in Rome, the Sagrada familia in Barcelona, the beaches of Jamaica and Cancun, you can take them, I’d even go as far as to say forget the red light district in Amsterdam or Prague, these views are stuning, its like your watching the discovery channel on a 52inch plasma in HD as it’s hard to comprehend what your actually seeing, it doesn’t seem real.

Simply awesome views and the wine wasnt bad either!

This week the highlight of our week was an awesome wine tour through the Marlborough region. Never really sampling NZ wine this was somewhat of an epiphany. We had the usual wine tasting in abundance but the views to boot where better than any of the 4 wine tours we have done. The wine was delicious the tour company exemplary and it was money well spent. Four bottles of wine are tucked away in the camper just waiting to be guzzled and thus far we have resisted temptation, the question is will any of them make it back to the UK with only four weeks left of travelling – what do you reckon!!

Ready to blow

To my amazement some Geyser down the road wasn’t some wideboy looking to sell me something I really didn’t want, it was actually a whole load of thermal springs culminating in one that went off everyday at 10.15.  When I say went off, again it wasn’t the same wideboy loosing his rag and swinging like an angry helicopter it was an undercurrent of hot water that exploded everyday at the same time.  I kept thinking to myself how amazing this water was, it is heated to extreme temperatures by the magma that is gurgling under the surface of the earth and yet it explodes through an outlet in the same place at the same time everyday, amazing.  So there I sat camera in hand from 10.05 onwards, I didn’t want to miss this, I’d gotten up early especially to see this, I kept wishing an early explosion so the people who arrived fashionably late missed it and I could sit there smug as you like with my pictorial step by step snap of the explosion.  I’d talk very loudly and laugh “ha ha look at this one Martel, it’s an amazing shot of THE THERMAL EXPLOSION, I’ve captured it perfectly ha ha” I later discovered the Geyser only explodes naturally in a of window of between 24 and 72 hours so a dude called Dave comes down, gives a brief speech and then drops some soap in which makes it explode at the same time, the same place everyday – cheers Dave for making me feel a right dick.  According to Dave hot water runs in one direction at around 150 degrees celsius and cold water runs over the top at 90 degrees celsius, eventually the water will get hot enough and have to explode somewhere but by adding the soap it breaks the surface of the water causing it to mix, heat and explode, your still a tosser Dave. 

The same pic everyone else will have....grrr

You’ll be pleased to know I did get some amazing pics, but so did everyone else.

After the Geyser we had a walk round Wai-O-Tapu which is an enormous thermal conservation area.  Wai-O-Tapu is amazing; it’s the largest surface area of thermal activity in the Taupo volcanic zone.  It’s covered with collapsed craters, boiling pools of mud and water, some as hot as 300 degrees C. It’s also the site of the largest volcanic eruption which happened in volcanic terms only a wee while ago, 26500 years ago to be exact but who’s counting. 

Boiling and bubbling and so so hot

Yet again its stunk to high heaven but that was a blessing in disguise for me.  Two nights earlier I had cooked a massive curry for my mate who I visited in Torbay, it was loaded with six cloves of garlic and five very hot chillies and a concoction of spices so I had my very own thermal activity going on as this had been gurgling under my surface for two days ready to explode.  I merrily walked round Wai-O-Tapu dropping my guts with uncontrollable regularity, the best bit was nobody even noticed!!  Everybody was blissfully unaware, cursing the smell and blaming those magical sulphur pools.  I dropped one at the Geysor with tourists packed in next to me, no one noticed, I dropped one as I had my picture taken by a delightful German chap just as I handed him the camera, he never notice nor did Martel, I even floated one as a lady bent over to inspect a tiny water fall hoping I could blame her if any one heard as I stepped on a duck but no one noticed. God bless those thermal pools, my smug look was back, who’s laughing now Dave?!

Don't panic it's not on fire

Rotarua or as I liked to call it Rotapoopa due to the stench was our next stop.  There’s a perfectly legitimate reason for the stench, it’s not the local’s poor drainage system, it’s the immense amount of thermal pools dotted about all over town.  As we wobbled down the streets hidden in the hedges are what looks like is a bush fire smoking away when in fact the earth’s core is heating a rock pool or something alike creating steam to rise above into the atmosphere.  The stench that comes from them is pretty horrendous, it’s a real rotten egg smell and it doesn’t matter where you are in town, it never goes away.

We arrived in Rotarua after another three hour drive, this time from Auckland, you immediately knew you were there because of the stench.  When you first smell it you check your shoes and then have to question if you have dropped one like the family dog without even realising but fear not you haven’t sharted yourself, I’m not that old yet.  It had been raining from the moment we got up and it showed no signs of relenting so we were limited to what things we could do in the short space of time we had.  One of the things that we were both keen to do was try out the Polynesian spa which was conveniently placed five minutes down the road and something rain couldn’t spoil.  The Polynesian spa had 26 therapeutic pools all outdoors and all heated by Mother Nature using the natural mineral spring water. Natural spring water sounds quite nice but let me assure you it stunk and it was a sunny colour but folklore says that it has miraculous healing properties and we’d both just been for a work out in the local gym so it we were happy to give it go. Note to self about New Zealand Gyms, “Maouri’s and Polynesians are massive and make me look like a Russian gymnast with an eating disorder, must eat more”.  I have to admit I questioned what actual therapeutic values if any this water had but when I saw the queue of coffin dodgers leading up to the entrance I started to realise this place was like the swimming pool in Cacoon!  My suspicions where confirmed when I walked in and clapped eyes on the first pool which was bright green and almost glowing just like in the film. 

Just out of shot is an old guy bombing into the pool!

I looked for giant eggs in the bottom but couldn’t see any.  The pool was like a bowls lawn in midsummer only the majority where Asian – of course they were, they’ll try anything and yes!  As we both slid into the first pool it reminded us both how much we miss a bath, showers are good but you can’t beat a good soak in the bath and this was as hot as any bath I would run at home, only it had been run with heated water straight from the north sea or so it seemed!  Amazingly I could feel my aches and pains easing and just as I started to relax I looked up to see a group of Asians all staring at Martel, slightly off putting when you’re trying to relax especially as they all had ill fitting speedo’s on.  The rain didn’t stop but it also didn’t spoil our soak, it was actually quite nice to be out in the rain whilst soaking in the hot mineral pools, odd but nice.  The views over the bay where amazing, shame the same couldn’t be said for the smell. 

It wasn't obligatory to go naked but Martel was game

After soaking for an hour, loosing at least three layers of dead skin I felt 10 years younger making me 16 again.  After quick shower it was back to the campsite for a cuppa and an early night as the next morning we were up early to see some Geyzer just down the road In Taupo.