Day 257 - it seems that newspaper editors are right: a scandal always sells!

Ha ha - the revelations in the last blog certainly resulted in a fair few messages from various people for which I’m really grateful to you all. Thanks for the good wishes… things are still going well! It also resulted in that particular blog getting something like 400 hits in a week which is pretty incredible given my highest ranking blog to date (Peru) has only had 700 hits in 5 months! So thanks - I’m chuffed… and a little shocked! Who are you all?!

Anyway enough of the personal life. I feel over exposed!

So how do I sum up the last 3 weeks in New Zealand… actually with a great deal of difficulty I think. It has been an amazing time but I actually don’t know where to start - we have done so much! Literally not one lazy day to even draw breath! Now that’s what it’s all got to be about!

After all the hassle with the delayed flights back from Fiji, Sarah and I were left with only a morning in Auckland, where pretty much all we managed to do was get a coffee and spend a few minutes at the top of the Sky Tower before Sarah had to head off on a bus for a weekend with Noelia and some of her friends at the Hawkes Bay Wine Festival… and I, and my tent, had to set off for Christchurch and a rustic trip down the South Island’s East coast to meet Clint for some tramping (that’s what New Zealanders call hiking) on Stewart Island, right at the bottom of the South Island.

But, although a couple of days behind schedule, luck was on my side and so, after spending a total of 3 hours in Christchurch sorting out a new set of wheels (another cheap rental car which just seemed to fall into my lap), and getting one last night of so called luxury in a former prison cell at The Jailhouse (a really great hostel on the outskirts of the city centre that has been converted from a former prison), I headed out of town and made for the stunning blue waters of Lake Tekapo and the completely clouded over Mount Cook (New Zealand’s highest mountain).

And as I started to meander south from Christchurch it dawned on me why my rental car had been such good value - virtually every other vehicle on the road was either a combi-van or a space-wagon…. Yes, whilst I’d been perfectly happy to take a tiny car and brave the weather by putting up my shiny orange tent each night, everyone else seemed to have rented the latest must have accessory for touring the South Island: transport that somehow or other converts into a proper home. Some of these vehicles were seriously fancy - double beds, satellite dishes, DVD players and double gas burners were almost standard. And those were just the small converted Renault Espace types. I was disgusted… but also seriously jealous!

Anyway given that the population on the South Island is so much lower than the North (1m compared to 3.2m in an area 1.3 times the size) it wasn’t exactly like I was fighting the other tourists for road space. An hour out of Christchurch and I pretty much had the place to myself as I wound my way inland to Lake Tekapo where I ended up spending the night on the lakeshore before heading on the next morning to Mount Cook National Park, where I spent the day exploring the area and trying, in vain, to get a glimpse of the famous mountain through the complete blanket of cloud that had conveniently descended about 20 minutes before I arrived.

Over the course of the next couple of days I headed back to the coast and worked my way south past Oamaru (home to some of New Zealand’s best preserved 19th Century architecture) and the Otago Peninsula (a famous wildlife reserve) before arriving in Dunedin - the Scottish City. And Scottish it certainly was what with grey skies and horizontal rain to welcome me, not to mention the very Edinburgh-esque architecture! Dunedin was founded in 1848 by Scottish settlers (Dunedin actually means Edinburgh in old Celtic) and even though the city has a very modern edge, the old university, cathedral and beautiful railway station (to name but a few of its grand buildings) help it retain a very historic feel.

But cities are not really what the South Island (or any of New Zealand to be honest) is really about. We’re here for the stunning scenery. And so the next morning I picked up Clint from the airport and we carried on South along the beautiful coastal “Catlins” area towards Invercargill, where we caught a ferry across to Stewart Island for a few days hiking another of New Zealand’s Great Walks - the Rakiura Track.

The Maori name for Stewart Island is Rakiura - which basically means Glowing Skies, and after a really easy first day walking in glorious sunshine to our deserted campsite at Sawdust Bay, we found out just why they called it that - a magnificent red sunset reflected perfectly in the absolutely still mirror-like waters of the very well timed low tide.

Apart from the attraction of having the place pretty much to yourselves (given it’s remoteness it’s one of the quieter of New Zealand’s Great Walks), one of the main reasons people make it all the way to Stewart Island is to get a chance to see one of the endangered and incredibly shy Kiwi birds in the wild (it’s virtually the only place where you’re likely to). Well this is pretty much where it let us down - despite stealthily sneaking along the trail with camera poised and freezing at the slightest rustle in the undergrowth, we didn’t see a bloody thing! I was happy to leave it at that, taking consolation by telling myself that yes, they really must be almost extinct if we didn’t see one. But as if to add insult to injury, just as we were leaving, some obnoxious woman (well she was probably perfectly lovely but she just timed it wrong) insisted on telling everyone how she’d seen two of them right outside the campsite the night before. Bugger.

Despite our complete failure as Kiwi stalkers I really enjoyed the remoteness of Stewart Island and am really pleased I took the time to get down there - the track itself is not a tough one and, although I’d almost say that the amount of boardwalk you end up having to wander along very nearly ruins the rustic-ness of it all (it’s either boardwalk or mud up to your waist at times!), it’s definitely worth making the effort to get there.

Anyhow after a few days in the wild we returned to the civilisation of Invercargill in time to scrub up and meet Sarah and get to the airport in time for Clint’s flight home to Noelia in Wellington - good luck you guys we’ll miss you!

Now whilst we were in Fiji I’d told Sarah about the luxuries that awaited her in New Zealand if she decided to travel with me - namely the tent and my new found passion for escaping with it to the middle of nowhere - and I’m pretty sure that, no doubt with memories of trekking whilst ill in Chile, she was fairly sceptical about the whole idea of heading out camping again. But bless her she was really happy to muck in and join me, so we started off gently (staying in a pretty swish holiday park) and from then on, with the exception of one night (a certain February the 14th where any conscientious boyfriend ought to push the boat out a bit), we saved the money, escaped the crowds and got the most out of New Zealand’s great outdoors.

New Zealand’s biggest tourist attraction by far has to be the remote Fiordland National Park in the very south-west corner of the South Island. It’s an absolutely vast chunk of the country (1.25 million hectares) and, other than a couple of roads leading up to the edge of it, there’s virtually no way in, through or around it other than on foot or by boat. Given a bit of planning it would be an amazing experience to spend a few weeks hiking, kayaking and boating around this amazing system of steep-cliffed fiords and lakes, but most people don’t allow themselves the time. And sadly neither had we. We did however at least get to take a couple of trips in to see the two most famous fiords - the incredibly famous Milford Sound and her close competition, the slightly larger, more inaccessible and consequently much less visited Doubtful Sound.

The Fiordland region of New Zealand is famous for its weather - particularly its rainfall. On average they get a whopping 7m of rain each year (compare that to the average 2m in Britain’s wettest area - the Lake District) so you pretty much have to expect to get a good soaking if you go anywhere near it. Most trips to the Sounds get rain and to be honest the area looks all the better for it - all the waterfalls that cascade from the cliffs and drop straight into the sounds are reliant on it and the clouds also lend a very eerie and atmospheric appearance, floating and clinging as they do around the tops of the mountains.

Our day trip around Doubtful Sound was a perfectly acceptable Fiordland day - suitably cloudy and atmospheric with only a bit of rain. Doubtful Sound is stunning and, although by being slightly larger than Milford Sound it perhaps appears slightly less dramatic (the narrower channel at Milford is what makes it seem the more impressive), the fact that it gets nowhere near the hordes of visitors that fly, bus and self-drive into Milford every day makes it a much better option for a daytrip if you can spend the extra money and want to avoid the crowds!

But I’ll go on and negate all that now by saying that if you come to New Zealand and miss Milford Sound you’re absolutely crazy! I’ve been lucky to see some incredibly inspiring scenery on my travels but I reckon a perfect day on Milford Sound may almost be a winner - it’s certainly right up there with the likes of Iguazu Falls, Machu Picchu and Torres del Paine in my book.

So yes - thankfully we did get a perfect day at Milford, or rather a perfect evening, night and morning, as Milford was one area where we’d decided to spend the money in New Zealand. We booked an overnight cruise on a small 12 person hostel-style boat and it was worth every penny. It left in the clear and sunny late afternoon after the day trips had finished, cruised the length of the sound and then anchored up in a secluded cove for dinner followed by a trip ashore. We actually managed to wander onto the final couple of kilometres of the Milford Track (an absurdly popular Great Walk that gets booked up over a year in advance) before returning to the ship to watch the sun set. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, waking up for sunrise the following morning (thankfully because of the high cliffs that wasn’t too early!), and heading out for an hour kayaking in solitude on the perfectly still waters was without doubt the highlight. I almost got all meditative.

So from Milford we headed on, via a lovely side walk up to an unforgettably remote Lake Marian, to Queenstown. Remember what I told you about Queenstown? Yes the tranquillity of a calm morning on Milford Sound faded fast!

Queenstown is actually a very nicely situated and potentially a very pleasant town - but it’s completely ruined by the number of tourists who visit it. But then that’s all it’s there for. It’s packed to bursting with folk all craving a shot or two of adrenalin from one of the possibly hundreds of adventure activity outlets that are just itching to take your money in exchange for a quick thrill. And that just made me cringe. But I was there too so, obviously as guilty as any, I lined up, handed over my credit card and waited for my hit! And I very nearly got hooked!

You see the truth is I’d actually decided that I really wanted to do a skydive years ago - I’d just never got around to doing anything about it. But at the outset of this trip I decided that if I got to Queenstown I was definitely going to do one. Thankfully Sarah was really keen too, so after a bit of research (well in all honesty we went for the one with the funkiest looking brochure) we got booked up. A tandem skydive (you have a professional jump-master strapped to your back) from 12,000 feet - meaning 45 seconds of free-falling at terminal velocity (about 200km per hour), before 4-5 minutes gently descending in a parachute - hopefully.

And then the nerves set in. Actually I wasn’t particularly nervous until we walked past the office the night before just to check where it was and we saw a guy in a wheelchair waiting in there… I mean fair enough he may have gone in for any reason but I did spend a long time pondering about omens.

Despite that we both walked back there in silence the next morning - feeling very much like lambs to the slaughter. But you’re very quickly sucked up into the excitement of it all and before you know it (well actually we did have an excruciatingly long wait) you’re walking towards the tiny plane wishing time would slow down a bit more.

I’d love to give you chapter and verse on every aspect of the jump but the truth is it suddenly all went very quickly and, although I really, really wanted to savour every second, my memory of it all is actually more like a series of short outtakes (kind of exactly like the highlights movie they made for me which you can, if you must, watch at the end of this blog!). I wasn’t particularly nervous once I got in the plane (kind of excited but almost serene - though definitely with dry mouth and sweaty palms!). I remember my jump-master dude (a Hungarian apparently) being annoyingly patronising, which was made worse because I then had to spend the ascent sitting on his crotch (you’re meant to). And then I remember feeling a little overwhelmed and a bit short-changed that for the rest of my life I’d technically owe my life to him. I remember him telling me lots of things to do as we jumped and then I remember forgetting them. I can definitely recall getting annoyed with the annoying camerawoman for pointing a camera at me in an annoying way at the last minute. And finally I remember thinking how undignified it is to be shunted out of the door of a plane in that fashion and that I didn’t particularly want to die with a large, grinning Hungarian on my back.

And then we jumped, or fell, or whatever… there was actually nothing I had to do and nothing I could do about it (Hungarian pushed me). But it was absolutely amazing.

Surprisingly, that falling feeling you get in the pit of your stomach stops almost immediately (although to be safe I still clenched), I couldn’t shut my mouth so my lips immediately folded themselves up and rooted themselves to my gums and my nose began to dribble (annoyingly just as the annoying camerawoman caught up with us), and then I just felt like I was flying - which is kind of stupid because you’re obviously just hurtling towards a messy ending. But that’s pretty much exactly what it felt like. And then, after what seemed like only a few seconds and just as I was enjoying it, the nice Hungarian spoils it all by opening a parachute.

The easiest way to sum up what I thought of the skydive experience is to get you to watch what a speechless, grinning idiot I am at the end of the video they made (so feel free to have a laugh at my expense - a link is at the bottom of this text). Suffice to say though that I think I’m pretty hooked - certainly enough to declare now that I’ll definitely do one again some day.

And with that we did the most sensible thing we could - which was to get the hell out of Queenstown as quickly as possible before we spent any more money (although we got caught in the adrenalin rush by the Bungy people and ended up doing a tandem bungy that same afternoon as well).

Since then we’ve ice-climbed on the Franz Josef Glacier over on the west coast (a pretty unique glacier as it’s situated really close to the sea and is surrounded by rain forest), worked our way up the beautiful and rugged West Coast route (which although an immensely long drive is worth it for the scenery) and ended up round the corner in Abel Tasman National Park on the western edge of the north coast of the South Island.

Abel Tasman is a really beautiful park and home to yet another of the New Zealand Great Walks - this one a gentle 51km stroll along the coast, meandering through rainforest, between beautiful golden sandy bays. Sarah and I ditched the car and, blessed again by perfect sunshine (although sadly carrying a 15kg rucksack), spent a lazy (if you don’t count racing against the tide a couple of times) two days enjoying the stunning blue coastline and camping at a secluded bay.

And that’s where we ran out of time - so after a quick one-night visit to Queen Charlotte Sound in the very beautiful Marlborough Sounds region further around the coast, we sped back via Kaikoura to Christchurch - just in time to drop off the car, have a big sort out day posting a few things (like a tent!) back home and making plans to head to Australia.

But we did get to spend a lovely afternoon finally seeing Christchurch - and that was a really nice surprise. I’d been really unimpressed by the sprawling mess of suburban Christchurch (the only area I saw when I picked up the car), but the centre of the city is a lovely place to spend a sunny afternoon. Particularly if you’re English and a long way from home. It’s an old university town modelled very much in the English style so has a distinctly Oxford-ey feel to it. The Cathedral Square, old university and Botanic Gardens along the banks of the Avon were perfect places to wander for a few hours to unwind after such a rushed last few days.

New Zealand is a country that most people have a good impression of so I don’t feel the need to sum it up - suffice to say it’s a fantastic place where no matter what your age, budget and passions you’ll easily find something to amuse and probably amaze you. The scenery has been everything I expected (it was really what I came here for) and I knew I’d get my fix of adrenalin and culture without trying. But I’ve also been really surprised and impressed by how nice some of the towns are, how genuinely friendly everyone is, and how the indigenous people are so proudly celebrated. A lot of places would do well to follow its example.

And I can tell you that I’m very sorry to be leaving. 2 weeks in the North Island and 3 in the South are barely enough to get round all the sights (and if you like to get out for a wander it’s certainly not enough to feel like you’ve seen everything thoroughly). But I’ve absolutely loved every minute and yet again, I’m leaving a country feeling like I’ve covered it just enough but that there’s still a lot I’d like to explore in more detail. Which to me is a great way to go for the moment.



New Zealand Slideshow

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Videos from "Day 257 - it seems that newspaper editors are right: a scandal always sells!":

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