Making it to the mountains

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I board the bus to Queenstown and am greeted by gold tooth Dave. For once the rules are missing and instead we just get on with our journey. Dave does give us the route plan and he gives us rough timings for arrival at various stops along the way which are 'down to driving conditions'. Hey Dave, there's virtually zero traffic on the road, it's a glorious sunny day, what driving conditions were you expecting to disrupt your schedule exactly? Think Dave needs to try driving in Iceland in winter to see how driving conditions can effect schedules.

The the landscape has very quickly become a lot more hilly and I notice that we drive for mile upon mile with virtually no human habitation. Sometimes the road is climbing so steeply our bus struggles to get to make it up some sections. We drive alongside a river for a while, the water a beautiful blue. I notice the farming has become a lot more varied. There are even orchards growing plums and apples - those must be the ones we avoid buying back home because of the ridiculous air miles involved.

This journey feels longer than the others even though it's not, probably because there aren't the same number of towns and stops along the way. When we do get a break it's at a lovely little place called Roxburgh with a much better food option than the previous greasy cafes I've experienced on Intercity breaks so far. This one is a lovely coffee shop/cafe with proper little china cups and saucers. I have a slice of apricot crumble and cream and there's even some tasty looking veggie savouries to take with me to have on my Milford Sound tour tomorrow. I have to sneak these onto the bus as unbeknownst to me the lady had heated them up, rendering them the hot, greasy food we are normally banned from bringing on board. Someone else gets told to get rid of a take away coffee but my sneaky savouries escape detection. The public toilets we use are automated and the voice over instruction guy tells me I can enjoy the facilities for up to 10 minutes and then the cheesy jazz begins. I'm out of there in under a minute! Urggh jazz, shudder.

We pass through a couple more cute small townships. One at Alexandra has a water wheel at the iSite and parked outside is a great retro motor home. The next, Clyde, is adorable, set in the hills with a very old fashioned mining feel to it.

Just outside of Clyde we find ourselves being driven beside another river with a massive mountain range falling steeply into the shore. We have our final stop at Cromwell of the massive fruit town sign, advertising this is a fruit growing part of the country. We see cherry orchards and vineyards as we get ever closer to Queenstown.

As we approach Queenstown I realise what a beautiful setting it's in, surrounded by mountains and lakes. I quickly find my hostel and realise it's a really good standard with very modern facilities and the best dorm set up I've had so far. My bunk is enclosed on three sides and the fourth has a curtain that can be drawn all the way across making it completely private. I have a little shelf above my head and have a night light and my own socket for charging gadgets. What isn't so good is the lounge and kitchen area which is taken over by loud regulars, the TV blaring constantly with some crap cartoon and unfortunately tonight they are having to deal with some stupid lad who's not learned to handle his drink and has been sick on one of the sofas. This involves shouting and swearing at him trying to persuade him to sleep out on the balcony area, swearing and shouting some more, then allowing him to stay on a bean bag and shutting the lounge to all other guests! Er wrong! Your guests should be your priority. Apologise to them for the disruption, chuck out the drunk, get him to hospital if he's really that bad and put the sicky sofa outside to be dealt with tomorrow. Kinda obvious!

I go to hide up in the privacy of my wonderful pod and get things ready for my Milford Sound tour the next and ignore the idiocies of youth.

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