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One of the greatest tricks the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. One of the greatest tricks I ever pulled was telling everyone on the Kiwi bus I was shy and not very good at making new friends. So what's wrong with a little white lie in the interests of getting to know people better? Anyway, false pretences notwithstanding, I couldn't have wished for a warmer welcome from the folks on the bus, most of whom had been together for weeks travelling the North Island. I'd heard mixed reviews before booking my ticket; most of the bad ones faulted it as a kind of New Zealand Uncovered with too much boozing and scoring but while I'm not really a man for those types of shenannigans I didn't want to appear prudish so I thought 'what the hell'...
As with all large groups, there were lots of disparate wee cliques on the bus but from the outset I seemed to be in with them all. The eclectic mix included the English girls I'd met in Chistchurch, 3 really sound Swedish lads that every girl wanted to score and a group that had been together since Auckland. But
it was Natalie, Vicky, Debs, Jess and Jodie that really took care of me during the first week - wee darlins the lot of them who didn't have a bad bone in their bodies. I know this doesn't make sense but we had such craic that I'm almost jealous of myself for having it. I'd chosen a good day to meet up with the group - the night of the fancy dress party at the 'Poo Pub' - traditionally one of the highlights of the entire trip. Now, I can't remember reading about including a fancy dress costume in the 'what to pack' section of the Lonely Planet website before I left but I still had the dodgy Brokeback Mountain shirt from Melbourne so a plastic hat, a toy gun and a couple of badges later and I was a cowboy. A really pathetic looking cowboy. At the Lake we were greeted by a bearded octogenarian and a bit of a local legend called Les who ran the show and put on a delicious BBQ. The party was a brilliant way of getting to know everybody even if my outfit wasn't quite up to the standards of some others; Brandon
and Rob took the biscuit in their flashers' overcoats.
We awoke with the expected hangovers with a long drive to Franz Josef ahead of us. We did have one notable stop at the Bushman's Centre at Punakaiki where we sat through the comical video of the local deer-culling industry - which of course they weren't glorifying at all despite the footage of stags being rugby-tackled by bushmen jumping from helicopters and close-ups of marksmen taking aim against the backdrop of the Top Gun theme music... I mention this episode only because it's the place where the girls bought me a possum-fur willy warmer as a reward for my antics the previous evening. Nope, I can't remember what I was up to either...
The reason tourists flock to Franz Josef is to hike on the fantastic glacier nestled between the mountains. It's very surreal to have to dress for Antartica in mid-summer but without the full regalia of talons, hobnail boots and ice-axes it would be a Bambi job. We had intended to do the heli-hike but it wasn't safe to take the helicopter up in the pouring rain so we had to settle for traipsing along like drowned
rats. Quite a unique experience all told so well worth the trouble. My trademark Japanese noodle soup has won me a good few friends across the Australasian hostel circuit and it was just what the doctor ordered when we eventually got down starving and freezing cold. Gotta keep the rent-a-friends sweet and all that.
It's never fun getting up before 7am, but you don't mind so long as there's method behind the madness. It was time for NZ to start cracking out the real scenery and it duly obliged with our trip to Lake Matheson to take in the breathtaking reflections of the snow-capped Mt Cook and Mt Aspiring before the wind could ripple the lake. Straight off the Alpen box. That set the tone for most of the day which was interspersed with stops at scenic photo spots where frankly NZ was just showing-off. Try writing that if you're dyslexic. During one such break I couldn't resist a dip in the ocean and I wasn't gonna be deterred by the fact that my laundry was long overdue and I was down to the dodgiest of underwear. Briefs I believe some people call them. The sea was as cold
as it was ferocious so I didn't stay in too long although it was obviously enough time for the girls to hide all of my clothes. This of course provided an unscheduled photo opportunity for the gang and it's reassuring to know that there are pictures out there somewhere of me scouring around a deserted beach in wet grey y-fronts.
I was only just dry by the time we reached Wanaka, an absolute gem of a town. It sits on the rim of a vast lake with awesome mountain views. Even though we caught it in summer, it was easy to see why the place thrives on the ski-season with that sleepy, laid-back feel during the day and bustling yet unpretentious bar-scene at night. It was a shame we didn't have the time for hiking or mountain biking but as tempting as it was I just couldn't break away from the group. We were all getting on far too well for that and we still had Queenstown ahead.
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