A dip into fear

Queenstown, globally recognised as the 'home of bungy'. Way back in November 1988 two Kiwi thrill seekers opened the world's first bungy site on the historic Kawarai bridge just slightly north of
Queenstown.  So with us two now being in the home of bungy we headed to the original jump site and the 'Secrets of Bungy' centre high above the Kawarau River - we both knew at least one of us just had to try it - Bungy jumping - NZ style.

So with one of us safely positioned on the viewing deck it was over to one of us to get acquainted with a small-ish blue towel, some velcro strapping and many many long elastic type bands. All this gearing up happens very calmly whilst you're asked the most random questions. Then you're up on the platform, 'toes on the nose' longboard style. You hear some final checks going on although you have no clue at this point what's really going off. Then the obligatory 3-1 countdown starts and then you're off amid chants and cheers from the crew who are stood fully secured to a very old looking bridge high above the Kawarai river.

All resulting in………

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AYbz6_tMTY

Like we said, we were in Queenstown so one of us just had to.

One hell of a shake

Ahhhhh Christchurch more looks like a scene from a terrorist attack or war zone than a beautiful cathedral city. Our thoughts go out to all affected in this tragic natural disaster.

Is this another step forward to Nostradamus predictions of our melt down in 12-12-12?  Or quite simply another tragic natural occurrence.

But outside of Christchurch the of New Zealand is very much open and as beautiful as ever.

Two go tramping

 DOC (Dept of Conservation), bit like England's National Trust, look after all the National Parks on NZ. The Routeburn Track is a very a popular 3 day tramp that traverses 33 km of Mount Aspiring and Fiordland national parks.

The Routeburn is a one way tramping track with a 350km / 4 hour drive separating the start from the finish so we had to figure out how we were going to get ourselves to the start and then the van to the finish whilst we merrily tramped the track.

Introducing Mike, a crazed fit Queenstowner whose genius idea has built up a well known local business that has the solution to such a problem. Once parked up at the start he collects our van from the car park (key under the wheel hub surf-style and cash only, so that's safely tucked in the glove box).  As we tramp off he then drives the 4 hours round to the finish line and then runs the 33km back home along the track! Fit, mad and becoming pretty well off. Not really too sure on how much of that cash Mike is declaring! But either way good on him, a great guy with a great small, local business doing a fair battle with the big coach party top guns. As it happened our running man, Mike, was at the start carpark from a previous job so we exchanged keys and cash there and then and as we left we just hoped our van would make it round to the trek finish some 33kms east in 3 days time.  Prior to our parting we couldn't help but ask him a few job related questions. The most he had run the track was 4 times in 8 days, his quickest time was a respectable 3 hrs 40!!!!!!!! And there was us taking 3 days! This was one fit Kiwi.

Along the Routeburn they are 4 cabins, we booked ourselves into the 2 that had spaces left (this is a popular trek). Not your normal cabin though, no hot water/showers/heating, lighting on demand, you get the picture. On the plus side though all did have flush loos which is some going given their remote locations. We had to carry everything we would need for this tramp: food, cutlery, cook-up pans waterproofs, bedding and the odd clean pair of pants! The tracks come with a strict 'pack in pack out' for all equipment taken into and onto the track. This includes all generated rubbish.

Day one wasn't far as it was the nearest but only hut we could squeeze into on day one, Lake Howden Hut. We even managed to get there before the rain started. Only 28 single bunks but almost full bar a few late drop outs.  Each hut has a manager that lives there during the summer months . DOC don't just pay these guys to live out in the wilderness drinking coffee, these guys also have to work during the day repairing tracks etc. John, the Howden hut manager, gave a short talk after we had all had our supper, also informing us of the earthquake that had just hit Christchurch that afternoon. These huts have no electricity or phones so not much information was coming in and none was able to go out.  Fe said she felt like she was back in Girl Guide camp sleeping in bunks. Luckily only the one snorer but we had packed our earplugs so no worries. We met 2 couples that were doing the same route as us so was good to know we could meet later at hut 2 and compare achy muscles.

Day 2 was the biggy, 19.9 kms to tramp but this was by far the most rewarding and spectacular part of the trek. Leading you from sub alpine forests up onto an alpine pass ridgeway, known as the 'zig- zags' section, high above the Hollyford Valley giving us great views of the Darran mountains. Harris Saddle shelter acted as a brief lunch spot but as the clouds threatened we both agreed to push on as we knew that we'd been sooo lucky to make it to this point without any real storms breaking. So with our limited gear but high morale we pushed on for the Falls hut passing Lake Harris. This lake gave a jet black appearance giving perfect mirror images of the ranges above.  At last we finally could see our digs, the much welcomed sight of Routeburn Falls Hut peaking through the trees. What a sight for sore eyes, and feet for that matter. This hut was bigger than the last with 48 bunks. Again no welcoming hot shower or bottle of vino here to ease the pain. Just a freeze dried meal for 2. The hut had 2 areas, a bunk room and a kitchen. The kitchen had a great log burner which I adopted for the duration of my stay. But the bunk room nothing, no heat and for some reason there was a drive to keep the door propped open?! Why, it was in the wee small figures, freezing some may say! It was good to catch up with the fellow trampers from our first hut. We sat laughing and discussing the days distances. Lights out at 10pm, sharp, no complaints though it was all off to bed, a cold one at that. Door still propped open as we filed in!

 Day 3. Our last day which brought a sharp edged lazy breeze, you know the type that goes through you instead of around you. There was moisture in the air also. As the DOC rangers say 'you always expect at least one shower on your trek''. So we delayed the off for an hour or so which seemed to do the trick. It was only 3 hours back to our waiting, now seeming luxurious van. That was if the running-man Mike hadn't taken off to the west coast in it with our payment acting as a weekends beer money! With damp shoes and 3 day old socks it took a bit of choke to get us going but once on the downhill section to the flats and the finish point marked by the Routeburn shelter it didn't take long to warm up. We weren't at running pace but let's just say we weren't holding back.

So we'd walked through 2 national parks and saved on a 350km/4hr drive. Routeburn track done. Just can't tell you how good the hot showers felt at Glenorchy campground that night.

Our requests to DOC:
D - what the Routeburn is missing is kissing gates
F - obviously apart from hot running water at the huts I wish there was benches at vista points

The Fiordlands

These majestic lands severely tested those early settlers who tried to tame it. Even back then and todate we can strongly confirm that in these parts the sandflies were and are nothing but 'voracious'. Yes, they are a very useful cog in the big eco-machine but they are a real pain. The Maori belief is that the creation of the Te Namu (sandfly) lies with the goddess of the underworld, Hinenuitepo. As when she gazed at the beauty of what Tuterakiwhanoa had crafted, Tuterakiwhanoa thought to be the original carver of the Fiordland, she became fearful that humans would not want to leave such paradise. So the creation of Te Namu was a gentle reminder to us all not to linger for too long.

The area gets 7200mm of rainfall per year. So much rain that the sea has a deep topping of 20 foot of fresh water. Within this World Heritage National Park there are some areas that have never ever been

explored due to their remoteness.

Kim Hollows, a local helicopter pilot, decided to share the views he gets everyday from his 'office'. Over a 10 year period he shot various scenes which he has now brought together to make a short film about the diverse Fiordland region. At this point mustn't forget to mention that once the film was complete Kim realised there was no cinema in Te Anau to actually show it. So he did what anyone would do with this much passion for his country, he built one. Not shown in any other cinema in the world we sat wowed for 30 minutes. Kim has pulled together some amazing footage of this place. It really just summed up our feelings for this country. Again proving that NZ is stunning. 2 cinema visits in as many days! If we carry on like this we will be film buffs by the end of the year.

Been thinking, the difference with NZ from other places is that it's not just how stunningly beautiful it is, it's that there's hardly anybody here to spoil that beauty. Most beautiful places you visit are rammed, overrun, packed out and like a bun fight. This then can ruin the beauty.

Back on the road the drive up to Milford Sound from Te Anau was quite simply awesome. An unforgettable journey. The staggering beauty is enough to put anyones head in a spin. It's an overpowering place that leaves you lost for words really. Going to have to learn some new words to help describe the beauty.

Quite literally hundreds of waterfalls cascading down the mountainsides like veins of a good blue cheese. Raging river rapids run right up to the edge of the road. You feel totally surrounded by water, a constant

roar hits you at every twisting turn. Some falls are so high they disappear out of view through the low cloud that hangs over the mountains. The 20 odd km from the Divide to Milford gave us views we have never witnessed before. Pass the thesaurus, 'awesome' and 'stunning' are simply too weak. They just aren't making the grade!

On approaching the face of the Darran mountains you are met by the Honmer tunnel. A smallish looking opening beckons you in to a single lane tunnel that runs for about 1km long. In summer months it causes considerable delays as the traffic lights at either end change once every quarter of an hour. We gave the guys who built it some thought though as it took them 20 years to get through this solid granite mass. Once a year they hold a 'naked run' through the tunnel! All for charity mate. As you emerge from this dark sloping tunnel you find yourself in an amphitheatre of mountains and waterfalls and you can't but help feel that you've reached a spot that you shouldn't have actually got too. Well not by driving at least. We pulled off the road and just sat in a moment of rare silence. This place was 'remarkable'.

Monumental Magnificent Milford

After the darkest campervan night ever, where it rained so hard it's brought up 3 warning lights on our dashboard (and this is without keys being in the ignition!) we headed out early to cruise the famous

Milford Sound. With all the overnight rains the water run off from the mountains didn't make for the clearest of waters on the Sound, never the less though all pretty impressive stuff. It took us out as far as St Anne Point, the point where the Tasman Sea meets the Sound. From sea looking back into the entrance of the fiord it looks just like one solid cliff face. Old Cookie sailed past here twice, missing it on both occasions! Then a Welshman called Captain Grono from Milford Haven came bumbling by in 1823 and finally discovered it thinking it was a good sheltered spot to moor. Thus he named it 'Milford' after the South coast Welsh port. This place is so isolated they are not on the electricity grid. Bowen falls not only looks dramatic it also supplies electricity to the surrounding community via a hydro-plant and also supplies fresh drinking water. The water being so pure no treatment is required just filtering only.  At the deepest point the Sound is around 300 metres deep. The total height of many of the visible mountains from summit to seabed run up to 1 mile. All making you feel very small and insignificant! These solid granite beech tree lined mountains have been carved open by ice over tens of thousands of years ago. We passed the Pembroke Glacier which is over a million years old. Fur seals lazed on the rocks only semi interested in what we were up to. On a windless day they often spend much of their time in the water as like us they are victims if the dreaded sandflies.

Pass the popcorn

It would be rare to find a cinema listed as a tourist attraction but Wanaka's one screen Paradiso cinema is not your average flicks. Not only listed in most international tourist guides it's also listed in Lonely Planets 'must do' category when you find yourself passing through this laid back little town. And yes, it does have an old moggy minor parked inside acting as front row seats.

You won't find any of the trappings of the posh, up market big-city cinema here. Let's just say it was more like watching a movie in your own lounge. All curled up on one of the miss-match sofas, good coffee and warm cookies balanced on the arm. We really could be back at 108!  Thoughts filled my head of maybe I should get my 'film club at home' plans back on track.  This place was so cool. The films stopped one hour in for a 'interval'. And why not, as the smell of fresh homemade cookies fill the main theatre. Popcorn anyone was the cry?

Where is that *!*#**! deet ?

Onward to Jackson Bay we stopped off at Bruce Bay for a spot of beach combing. Fe on the lookout for driftwood to complete a little craft project in the future and I got the odd pebble or three. Lots of sandflies here so we bug creamed up. The west coast is renowned for these little biters.

At the head of the beach a trend seemed to have taken off for writing a message on a white stone and leaving it on the rocks, so we found a suitable contender and added another to the pile.

Whilst combing we bumped into Carlos and Jenny, a German couple that we have been crisscrossing paths with since the top of the north island. We shared a quick coffee and a laugh as they also were heading

for.……'Jackson Bay'. We let them into our reason for heading there - great fish n chips. Well that's what we'd been told.

Jackson Bay was the kind of place you feel 'out of place' if you don't fish! A tiny, tiny place with a jetty. Fishing boats were coming in every 30 mins with heavy loads that were hauled off the boats and then fork lifted off the jetty. We had a walk down and chatted to one of the fishermen, they had been catching a variety of tuna that has no limit.

The fish n chips were the best ever! From a shipping container at the end of the jetty. One downside to this idyllic spot, OMG it was sandfly central. These buggers are nasty and hungry. Reckon the mozzie is preferable, their bites are less itchy and they are easy to squat.

Rainforests and Glaciers

Within the Southern Alps sits the Westland National Park. There are more than 60 glaciers in the park, the two famous and very accessible being Fox and Franz Josef. These two glaciers are unique as they reach all the way down to the lower rainforests.  These huge tongues of ice cut through the valleys and flow down through temperate rainforest to just 250 metres above sea level.  The Franz Josef and Fox glaciers are particularly steep, with snow fall pushing ice down through the valley at a very high rate. Flow rates are up to 10 times faster than most valley glaciers. The glaciers are creeping down the mountain sides at a rate of 3ft per day.

08:30 am on the button you're woken to the sound of the first of hundreds of the overhead heli-rides of the day. The purists could easily have a case here. Are these rides the plight of the glaciers?  Combine an active glacier with a rainforest 5kms from a township and bingo, you've got a tourist mecca on your hands - Franz Josef. We decided to start our icy experience with a 5 hour hike up the side of Franz Josef to Roberts Point and then the following day take a guided glacier walk on Fox. A guided tour being the only way you can actually get out on the slippy stuff.

Before you start the ascent up to the point you pass Peters Pool, a small kettle lake. Kettle lakes are formed by huge blocks of ice that are left behind a glacier withdraws. When the blocks of ice melt it leaves a depression hole known as a kettle hole. These are found among mounds of rock debris that is deposited by receding glaciers.

As we crossed Douglas Bridge we spotted large blocks of ice floating by in the Waiho River below. As the trail climbs higher through the rainforest the path crosses over Arch Creek and Rope Creek swing bridges, the latter only able to take one person at a time - very wobbly.  We both agreed that we had never walked such a mix of terrain before. More of a scramble than a walk in parts with plenty of opportunities to get a boot full of icy glacier water.

We were rewarded at the top with a great view of FJ glacier. On rounding the final corner the glacier comes into full view. You're not sure whether to speak or just stay silent as blue lines of ice continue to be compressed by repeated snowfalls. The sun was so hot we had to seek shade to eat our lunch. So weird as we were so close to a glacier. This is one dynamic environment.  Near the top we heard the rumbling of a slip, we could just see glimpses of huge amounts of dust and rock sliding from the mountain. The roar echoed through the valley as large sections of rock tumbled into the valley below. We clambered for a better view, glad all the action was on the other side of the valley!

Our return journey was slightly more eventful, we had a black hawk down. Fe lost her footing and went a cropper slicing her elbow and grazing various other sticky out bits. After 6 months was the first aid kit actually going to be opened?  Not up the mountain as we hadn't packed it!  Even with the slip up we managed the 10km scramble in just under 5hrs.

Our Fox Glacier climb started at 8.30am so that were out early onto the Fox glacier to catch the clear skies. The boot room was our first stop. As we would be wearing clampons we had to kit up with some hobnail style boots. We had about an hours incline to get through first, once complete this then gave us access out onto the base of the glacier, by this point we had all removed a layer as it was a pretty warm morning. Then a quick stop to strap-on clampons and put a layer or two back on, we stepped onto the ice. Our guide,  Llewellyn, made impromptu steps for us with his vintage axe. At one point we had to slide sideways in between two walls of ice. The ice we were stood on was approximately 80 years old!

As the glacier is constantly moving daily ice hackers work the glaciers so that a route to kept open onto the glaciers. Global warming is doing it's thing and shrinking the glacier, the glacier has recessed 100 metres since last February.  Llewellyn pointed out markers where the ice used to be only a few years ago.  The dust storms in Oz gave parts of the glaciers orange stains!

The glaciers in these two valley are the only ones in the world, apart from Argentina, where the glaciers run right down to rainforest levels.  Through the neve you could see the tip of mount Douglas, the highest peak in NZ. This was flanked by Mount Tasman and mount Cook. 

This was an amazing day!

Goodbye but not forgotten

Over a well executed open-air alpine valley cook-up we said our goodbyes to C and G, they were off to Thailand for a week of fasting and colonic!

We didn't get too deep with the au revoirs as with these two being from 'da-hood' there was a fair chance that we would meet again in the summer. It's heavy going to move on when you've met nice people and had
great times. Today split was another one of those moments. But we were off for some glacier action travelling back across Arthur's pass, poor Toyota.

Fully fuelled, the drive back gave even better views as the sky was as blue as. We got some great views of Deaths Corner, Otira Viaduct and the Otira Gorge. The latter section is known as an important part of NZ's engineering heritage. Back in the winter of 1865 men toiled for over a year to cut a single coach pass from Christchurch to the west coast gold fields. Today it acts as an important pass across the south island.  As the Alpine Highway rainforests come to an end, you do a left turn and then wham, there's the pounding west coast. A mountain-to-sea landscape. Does the beauty of this place ever end? With the rugged coast comes deserted driftwood and shell stacked open beaches that you can't help but beachcombe.

A Double-up on Valentines

From the Tasman Bay we drove across to the west coast into the region known as the land unto itself. Our route from north to east coast followed the twisting and turning Murchinson river and well known tortuous Buller river. Both snaking through the mountains and some sensational big-country landscapes. At one point the road reduced to a single lane to make way for Hawks Crag. A solid piece of overhanging granite that reaches out over the road. Highway 6 is a real primo drive.

All was good with the world apart from a odd fishy come eggy smell that seemed to be drifting from the back of the van. We stopped for lunch and I got my ovies on to try and locate the whiff source and on getting closer to the leisure battery it was clear it was the culprit. The battery seemed to have decided to cook itself and then everything around it. So on arriving at the next big-ish town on the coast, Westport (home to a high street with no less than 12 pubs, clearly TV wasn't that popular here) we gave the rental company a call for some advice on what next.  All pretty swiftly they put us in touch with a local garage. An hour later Brian, Westport's answer to all things battery, was all across it and we were back on the road again, on the road again.  No drama, though it took a few cook-ups to get rid of the lingering smell!

Next morning, everything and everybody, fully charged, smell still lingering, we drove from Westport to Castle Hill via Greymouth to meet up with Gilly and Charlie, the lovely couple we met in the north island.  On route we passed through Paparoa National Park. The home of the Pancake Rock. For centuries huge west coast swells have battered and eroded these limestone cliffs, carving them into the most amazing

shapes with a layer type appearance.

We continued on our route, Highway 6, which gave some stunning coastal views. The guide books rave-on regarding this drive and we can only agree with their claims of it being a total stunner. It twists and

turns running parallel with the sea. A real shame that all this beauty comes to a abrupt halt as Greymouth pops up on the horizon. A hard looking town sat within the Grey Valley at the end of the Grey River.

All aptly named really. The day was also rather grey so this didn't help it's cause to look anything but, well, grey. It seems the place is only really known by many for the miners that lost their lives in the Pipe River explosion last year. Greymouth town fits perfectly into our new category known as 'BBN' (better by night). On a plus point though, it did have a great bakery in the high street. Cakes on board we headed out of town almost as quickly as we had arrived.

The last leg took us east through Arthur's Pass. A drive not for the faint hearted. On your approach signs question drivers of their ability to negotiate alpine terrain. In some sections the poor Toyota was under a fair bit of pressure, even struggling right down in second gear for a few of the steep and gnarly sections. Was it a case that someone was going to have to get out and push? Great views though hey.

Once through we then had 40 hairy minutes of 'have we enough fuel ?'.  Arthur's Pass hadn't claimed the Toyota but it certainly took a swipe of our fuel gauge. We finally got to easier ground and into a fuel

spot prior to successfully regrouping with Charlie and Gilly. It was great to see them again and catch up on all things travel related.

C & G are expert climbers and had brought all their kit away with them so we agreed to have a bash at climbing. They found a spot for us to have a go at. All climbs are graded, we aren't sure of the grade of our climb but it felt pretty steep! We had to wear the special climbing shoes to give us a good grip, unfortunately Charlie's feet seem to fit into pretty small shoes so my size 10 struggled.  I know they had to be snug but this was crazy tight.  All we know is that Charile Woodburn 'top-roped it' therefore we felt safe in the hands of the master - Charile Woodburn.  You can check out Charlie's stats: http://www.betaclimbingdesigns.com/team/charlie-c-304_353.html

The following day, morale high, after a long lazy breakfast. C and G went off to further their climbing fix and we went off for a little 3 hour jaunt up Bearly Valley. As we just couldn't face pulling on those 3 sizes too small climbing shoes again. Day done we soon regrouped in the Toyota for a cook-up and constant natter.

'On days like these' it's going to be tough to return to 'normal life'.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTdpxY9ocFQ&feature=related

Two Abel Seamen at Tasman

Abel Tasman is NZ's smallest and most accessible national park. It has sheltered bays with golden sands, granite headlands washed with clear blue sea. Being so sheltered it is perfect for kayaking. So for the 2nd day on the trot we were off out to mess about on the water.

No tinnies with outboard motors here. A yellow kayak for 2 was today's ocean going vessel. Our safety briefing was a bit more detailed than yesterdays, the chance of drowning was obviously higher. Nice to see some water wise in action! One of us was fairly confident as she used to belong to North Avon Canoe Club so the phrase 'she'll be alright' definitely applied here. Most men opt for the back seat, some may say the key spot, as this seat has the foot controls for the rear rudder. Being outback though the duties don't end there, oh no. The bod in the rear seat has to synchronize paddle action with up front. So the gauntlet was down from the former canoe goer.

On route to the bay's islands we made a few stops at tiny secluded beaches for either food or a quick dip to cool down. It was clear after the first hour or so we were gunna 'feel the burn' the following day!  This was a bingo wing and back workout if ever I had felt one! Will I be able to lift my tea cup tomorrow?

Sailing on the Sound

We decided to charter a boat for a trip around the Poleous Sounds. OK not such a boat, more of a tinny for two! There are many 'sounds' in NZ. These are otherwise known as Fjords - a long narrow inlet with steep sides or cliffs created in a valley carved by glacial activity.

The original plan was to ride the 'post boat' through these sounds which acts as a life-line to houses that are inaccessible by road, delivering milk and bread along with the post. But the romance of this trip way out ways the cost of riding on it. The fellas going whatever so what's with the high costs for a couple of tourists to tag along? Sometimes you know that you're just being had in the name of 'tourism'.

Anyways after overcoming the disappointment of not delivering the mail we do a little local digging around and get put in touch with a character called Leicester Ball. A retired boat designer and now Poleous Sound resident. He decided to converted his bach (holiday home for those of you that haven't been paying attention) into a permanent shoreside base. It was easy to see why he'd reached this decision.  His new venture was to provide small boat safaris on the sound in a fashion where you, the tourist, would skipper your own boat for the day. While him, Leicester, guided you through the many networks of  waterways. As a boat designer Leicester had designed and built his small fleet. These small aluminium boats, known as tinnies, each had a sizable outboard motor that most non experienced boat types could easily control.

After a very quick Kiwi style safety brief, basically lots of 'she'll be alright' and many 'good as golds' he towed our boats down to the waters edge and we were off, full throttle from the off.  We both had a turn at being skipper. On our tinny, Seascape, local rules were put into place. Skipper must always be water wise and always wear the brightly coloured life jacket. But you know these things aren't all that cool so some wore them others didn't. Jacket wearing to one side though some obeyed the speed limit and some didn't! At one point you'd think we were in Miami Vice the way we were carving it up!

As we got deeper into the sounds and further out to sea we passed hill top homes that had no road access, only boat. These places where real secluded hideaways.  We slowed for some rays who were enjoying the sun in the shallows, they were huge, at least a metre across. The water temp on the Polerous Sounds is fairly warm considering it's a salt water tidal inlet but this results in a perfect environment for mussel farming. The mussel trade is big business in New Zealand, mega bucks. There are many mussel farms dotted all through the sounds but these bring benefits, locals see the need to keep the sounds as pollution free as possible and the business keeps many locals employed which results in them being able to work in the beautiful area in which they live, like generations before them have.

 

We stopped for lunch at a deserted bay, just us and the water lapping under the tinny. A short walk followed lunch, 2km to the next bay where good old Leicester had towed the tinnies around the point to save us doubling back on the same route. Nice.

On the way back to base we watched fish workers haul in many tons of the famous green lipped mussels. This was physical work and not for the glamorous. Each boat can collect around 60 tonnes of mussels per trip. Any small black ones (like we get at home and through Europe) are deemed below standard and are hacked off and thrown back in. These big green bad boys that are at least 3 inches long are then cleaned, de-bearded and then bagged, bound for New Zealand restaurants within 24 hours. A large percentage being exported, to Asia, of course. Luckily Leicester is very familiar with many of the mussel skippers and we were all well happy when he took us along side their vessel to exchange a empty bucket for a mussel filled one! No guessing what we had for supper.

Back at camp as the whoopers were  de-bearded, thoughts raced back to that fateful weekend in Woolacombe where the local catch didn't agree with 3 out of 4 of us!  So as the pasta and beans made way for shellfish we could feel the green eyed looks from fellow campers who were tucking into beans on toast, while we, on unpowered pitch no 17, cooked up a fantastic mussel-tastic shell fish delight. The Woolacombe experience couldn't be further from our minds, well at this point anyway!  It was great to cook up these green monsters knowing that only hours earlier they had been pulled from their hanging ropes within the Sound. We had to borrow a large pan from the campsite owner as we could only get about 4 in our largest pan. So moules mariniere it was, whipped up, smiles all round, and served with a cheeky local Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc.

Quote of the night……'this is the only meal that you can get away with consuming a whole french stick'. Well you have to soak up that awesome sauce with something!………This wine wasn't too bad either.

Straight across the Strait

We caught the 1pm ferry from north to south island. We couldn't remember the last time we were on a ferry, maybe it was to the Isle of Wight or maybe across the channel to Jersey? Either one it was yonks ago but it made a nice change not to be heading to an airport and getting on a plane to get to our next destination. The crossing was smooth and the views beautiful.

The crossing only took 3 hours with the last hour winding through the gentle waters of the Tory Channel and Queen Charlotte Sound which gave fantastic views of the mountains.

Back on shore at Picton, gateway to the South island, we collected our new van. Exactly the same as the last one but £20 cheaper per day as peak season had ended. So no handover required we jumped in and
headed for Havelock, dead centre of the Pelorus Sound.

City Living

We said goodbye to the Toyota and felt pleased we had contributed a fair bit to her 341,000 already clocked kms! She had done us proud and we were sorry to see her go. But boy oh boy we were oh so pleased to say hello to our city crash pad.

Our time in the city was relaxed. We just kicked around and enjoyed great little coffee shops and views from the harbour side. We took time to wander up and down the eclectic Cuba Street peering through retro boutiques, tattoo parlours and nik-nak shops. This part of the city had a great feel to it. The city as a whole though was pretty quiet, could it be still recovering from the weekends sevens !

After much searching I finally made contact with an old kiwi work pal, Mike Butler. He's now in Dunedin we briefly caught up on the phone and loosely arranged a meet at the end of the month. 'Good as gold'.

Te Papa, the museum of New Zealand was free, warm and gave good views over the harbour side, so we were in. This was some exhibition space, 6 floors of all things proud to be Kiwi. A brilliant photography exhibition was taking place on Brian Brake, NZ's best known photographer. His work was published internationally in magazines like Life, Paris Match and National Geographic. The exhibition included some great shots taken back in the 60-70s in some of the countries that we have recently travelled through.

Finally the grey skies over the city cleared after a few dark days we finally had the chance at last to see the real Wellie that we'd read up on. Without delay we completed a walking tour of the city taking in the beehive parliament buildings and Lambton Quay. Wellie is a great walking city as it's mainly flat and pretty compact. This led us to the historic Kelburn Cable car. This Swiss-built funicular railway takes you high into the hills above Wellie for an outstanding view out to sea and of the city below.

Sevens in the city

On route to our first city for a while we hit Martinborough. They were holding their annual rotary fair which looked a big community event. So it was handbrake on. It had only just gone 8.30am when we pulled up
but already the town square was packed with the sounds of shuffling feet. There must were hundreds of stalls and the whole town square and surrounding roads were jam packed with stalls. There were your usual suspects, everything on sale from artwork,  gum (welly) boots, local honey, crafts etc etc. We could have spent a few hours, and not to mention many dollars, here but alas Wellington was calling.

The main road to Wellie takes you on a road that Top Gear would have been proud off. Hugging the forest cliffs through the Rimutaka ranges high above the Hutt River passing through patches of low cloud. Not much room for error here. This all being part of getting 'over the hill', as it's known, to Wellington. Parliament capital of New Zealand.

On arriving the whole town was in party mood. The Wellington leg of the Rugby Sevens had rolled into town and as the stadium is within range of the city and harbour side the place was pretty busy. The Sevens leg in Wellington of this worldwide competition is renowned for everyone dressing-up in a free-for-all theme for a 2 day marathon drinking, sorry, sporting event. Having been to a few sporting events in my time I may have been accustom to the odd drunken daze but this was a whole new league. Scale topping amounts were being shifted. As for the dressing up attire, top marks, the effort put in was truly a great sight to witness. This city certainly knows how to p-a-r-t-y.  Back to the sport though! The 7 minute games are played almost back- to-back although the crowd really don't know whose doing what and where and for whom. What was great though was whenever the mighty All Blacks entered the whole stadium erupted. England made the cup final but playing against a side who were in their own back yard it wasn't going to be straight forward. The game of the day for me was Fuji Vs Samoa. The way these two teams moved themselves and the ball around was a real treat to watch. As for the final, England came second going down 29-14. Hmm

Friday is fish

Stone Henge in NZ, mmmmm. Admittedly not advertised as a replica but a complete working structure designed and built for it's precise location in the southern hemisphere. A little piece of  Salisbury on the edge of the Tararua Ranges!  The owner, and front desk host, a retired astrology lecturer, explained the basics to a blank looking Fe and Dave. We understood solstice and equinox and that was about it!

Our last push south took us to Cape Palliser, the north island's southern most point. So apart from Wellington city you could say we had done top to bottom.  We drove through rolling sheep country to a tiny settlement called Lake Ferry (the lake in question being a saltwater lagoon). We drove a further 15km on an unsealed road to get to the lighthouse. The road at times almost in the sea! We then climbed the 250 steps to reach the red and white striped lighthouse (what with the unsealed rocky road and then mega steps I felt a bit like Anneka Rice, minus the lycra, at this point).

Fishing for their supper were the north islands only resident fur seal colony. There were quite a few just soaking up the last rays of sun whilst others looked like they were just messing around in the waves.  Along this stretch of coastline was bach after bach belonging to the weekend Wellingtonian crowd.

Our campsite for the night was next to the lake and was 100 yards from the pub which was renowned for their fish so being Friday we couldn't resist some fish & chips (our last lot being back in Freo for Dave's birthday!).  Friday night at the pub eh! It had certainly been a while.

On my morning walk to the toilet block I thought how peaceful the lake looked, with the mountains in the background it could have easy been a lock in Scotland.

What we love here and in Oz is that in the caravanning world people make do. You see 50 year old vans everywhere (granted sited and not being towed). But none of this £30k keeping up with the Joneses lark,
very refreshing. If it doesn't leak and still does the job then keep it and enjoy your holidays.

Another day another lighthouse

With no milk shift (although I did forget to turn off the alarm clock, whoops!) we had a lazy cuppa in bed but then back on the road. We stopped for a few hours in Palmerston North, a university town. Here we poked our heads into the Rugby Museum. Due to move to

new premises in time for the world cup to get maximum visitors lots of stuff was crammed onto a small room.

We then could resist a quick visit to a charity shop. We made a purchase each and also saw a beautiful old chair for £30. We looked into shipping costs but quite frankly it would have been cheaper to buy a furniture shop on our return, shame.

Our campsite for the night was an hour down a dead end road. Well worth the scenic drive as hardly anyone there and our pitch was no more than 10ft from the sea. We must have been about 1 of only 3 camping that night. Yippee for kids going back to school. Our view was great, Castlepoint Lighthouse.

You can't beat a swim before breakfast and so that's what we did.  Although technically it was more of a 'dip'.  With our prime location being literally on the beach it was only 4 seconds from bed to water!  We had our breakfast outside, being so close you could almost taste the sea.  We then spent the day exploring the area.  We climbed up to the lighthouse and all around the surrounding rocks and also walked along the deserted beach.

A big THANK YOU the Muller family

When travelling you've always got the choice on how best to experience the country you find yourself. You research and then research some more. You try and obtain some local opinions but at decision time you always can't help but think 'have we chosen the best option available?'.

The time and experiences we had at Muller Farm were unforgettable. Yes we looked at doing a Farmstay but what we ended up doing was even better. The experience will stay with us forever. A big THANK YOU the Mullers!  We had grouse time!

Up the mount

February brought the return of the sun and it was back to school for the kids. At 5am we woke to clear skies full with stars, were we finally in for one of Taranaki's finest?

Our last milking shift complete and thoughts in my head were 'is that it, is my dairy farming career now offically over?' and I must say our udder skills were just starting to improve, slightly!  So after one final tour of the farm the time had come finally for us all to get closer to the mythical mountain that had been hiding behind the clouds for the last 24 hours. With clear skies over Muller Farm, the peak was clearly visable from the milking pit and almost beckoning us all towards one of it's trails. The rest of the morning was spent bush walking, scrambling over rock piles, checking out volcanic peaks, gazing from panoramic view points and drinking water from clear free flowing river ways.  From the view point at the base of the mountain we could see Mount Tongariro and the Ngauruhoe just peeping through a hazey horizon.

We said our goodbyes to the Muller Farmers. We thanked them for having us and letting us get down and dirty on their farm. We really enjoyed our time here. It's really tough to move on when you reach a

really comfortable spot but in the true name of travelling we had to truck on. We had to start our move south towards Wellington, the gateway to the south isle as this is a country that is begging to be explored!

As we made are way east out of Taranaki the mount being ever present on our left had side, we both agreed on what a great find we had come across in a part of country that enjoys a cheery vibe and will think nothing of giving a wave out to passers by. You could easily say we've experienced the real New Zealand. A road trip is much more than the roads travelled more the characters you meet whilst travelling them and if we carry on like this we will be 2 very happy travellers to say the least.