The South Island - On the Road Again

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Christchurch - the Garden City

Like Goldilocks, we are never happy, or just right. The weather in Melbourne and Port Douglas was too hot, and in Tasmania too cold. In Brisbane, the one night we were there, it was just right. Warm, with a cool breeze. Not too hot, not too cold, but just right. When we landed at the Christchurch airport we thought, oh Lordy this is cold. We had five nights in Christchurch. We were hoping to pick up our campervan a couple days early, but if not, this would be our first locale where we ran out of “stuff” to do and really spent some time vegging out. And, it was cold and overcast.

On our first full day, we took the Christchurch Gondola up to a hilltop with views of Lyttleton Harbour and the Southern Alps in the distance. We read that there was a paragliding company up top that would bring you down over the city. So, we took the city bus about 20 minutes, took the Gondola up and found that the paragliding company had not operated in awhile “due to weather.” Instead, we decided to hike down the bridle path from the top, stopping for another viewpoint over the harbour. It was a quick walk, only about 30 minutes, but when I say downhill, I mean downhill. Our knees and shins were killing us when we got to the bottom. But, day one’s activities were complete.

On our second full day we decided to take a “shuttle” to Akaroa. French settlers landed in Akaroa in 1840. It is a small fishing town with decidedly French attributes, with a population of about 500. There are two shuttle companies, one drives the straight 1.5 hours to Akaroa, drops you off, and in about four or five hours makes the return trip. We accidentally booked the scenic shuttle, same price, but ungodly longer. When we realized our voucher for the tour company said scenic shuttle Eric returned to the reception desk at the hostel to inquire. Eric was told, clearly, oh no, it is not scenic, it is not as though the driver stops all the time for pictures and to point out interesting stuff. We were assured the shuttle heads right to Akaroa. Little did we know we were in for just about the longest three hour drive in our lives.

We boarded the bus third, already running about 25 minutes late, so we lost out on the prime seating that a giant like Eric needs. Then, we drove all over CHCH picking up other passengers before returning about thirty minutes later to Cathedral Square to pick up the remaining passengers. Cathedral Square is the main, touristy destination in CHCH, and is roughly 3 blocks from the hostel. Travelers’ tip: whenever you book through your accommodation, find out if they pick you up, and if they don’t where do they pick up. You make the choice on where you meet the tour. You would think we learned that the first time in Port Douglas where we felt like imbeciles when our driver picked us up and drove three blocks to the marina for our snorkel trip. We certainly felt like the lazy Americans on that journey. But, finally, around 9am, we are on our way to Akaroa.

We knew we were in trouble with the commentary from the driver as soon as we started on the journey. First, we were informed there would be about four stops on the way to Akaroa: (1) a beach for photos; (2) a craft store; (3) a café with views of Akaroa; (4) another stop with views of Akaroa. I noticed the look of horror on the faces of a couple who booked a dolphin viewing trip from Akaroa a little after 12. Are they going to make it? The best, though, was the very detailed commentary that the driver gave along the way. Now, Christchurch is a lovely little city, a bit more European than the other cities we saw in Australia. It is surrounded by beautiful mountains and has a lovely river, the Avon, running through. But, CHCH does not apparently have a ton of history to fill up the three hour tour to Akaroa - at least the driver did not know any real history. Instead, the driver appeared to be moonlighting as a real estate agent, giving us the details of every housing development we passed, including information about the school district, the age of the development, and the estimated property values. Then, she proceeded to point out every little plant or flower that we drove past. Now, I am very interested in learning about the various flora and fauna we see, and Kieren did a great job on Fraser Island of telling us interesting facts and leaving it at that. After hearing every itty bitty detail during the three hour ride, our driver to Akaroa drove through the town to the very end before making her first stop, pointing out a house with beautiful bougainvillea growing in baskets on the porch. Wow. Let me off. I am sure if we knew what we were getting ourselves into we would have been more receptive, but in this case, we really wanted a ride to Akaroa and back, and nothing more. Let me off now.

Once we arrived in Akaroa, we exited the bus at the very first stop the driver made. And, it is just as the book said, a small, quiet fishing harbour, feeling a lifetime away from CHCH. It was a lovely little walk through town. We stopped for fish and chips, of course. We sat in a park for a great length of time while I read a book and Eric watched the local cricket club playing a match. We went to a café to spend the last hour or so before the bus picked us up. Eric broke his no caffeine kick enjoying his first (and second) flat white. Brilliant. Good news is that the bus only made one stop on the way back, a cheese factory for a tasting, and without the additional driver commentary, it was a lovely drive back to CHCH.

Hostel Environment

After Port Douglas and Hervey Bay, it was nice to return to a city with a large variety of fantastically cheap ethnic cuisine. In our first few days we tried Malaysian, Khmer, had a few cheap and yummy Indian lunches, and splurged on a Japanese/Korean dinner (and by splurge, the total came to USD$11). The real highlight, though, was seriously slowing down and spending a great deal of time at our hostel. We spent our first night in CHCH at the local Pak n Save - our first real “super” market, looking more like a Costco than a usual food market. We stocked up. And, we started to experiment a little more with cooking real dinners. Prior, our dinners at the hostels were limited to spaghetti, ramen noodles, or micro waved meat pies. During our first few hostel stays the kitchen seemed to intimidate us, with all of the activity and the questionable cleanliness. We also rarely used the refrigerators because I unreasonably assumed our food would be stolen. One night in CHCH we cooked up chicken schnitzel, which is apparently very popular, with rice and a brown gravy. The next night we made “oriental” flavored meatballs with Chinese rice. We were very proud of ourselves. We officially felt like we were taking advantage of the hostel environment. We also spent several nights after dinner in the TV room/lounge. One night was particularly memorable.

The first night we experienced the TV room we were really up there to access wireless, which was a complete failure. But, we settled into a couple of bean bags in the back of the room and just watched whatever tv was on. Now, like in Hobart with Nurse Ratched, I am still unsure of the rules for common tele watching. Who turns the TV on? Who chooses the station? And, how BAD does the programming have to be before someone speaks up and volunteers to change the station. I still have no answers to any of these questions. We certainly could not complain our first night when we arrived and How I Met Your Mother was showing. Then, last season’s VH1 Rock of Love with Brett Michaels was shown. Now, it is my (and my dear friend Jackie’s) secret obsession that I watch real crap reality programming (Jackie watches worse stuff than I do). I watched both of the first two seasons of Rock of Love, in which, unfortunately, the lead singer of the 80s hair band Poison, Brett Michaels, just never found his rock of love, but instead he found nothing more than rock of lust! I am well aware that this is not some of the best television the US has to export to describe the advanced nature of our culture. But, our tv night in CHCH got worse, if that is even possible, with Charm School. Another fantastically depraved VH1 reality show was a Bachelor type show featuring Flav-a-flav from Public Enemy (the one who wears the GIANT clock on a necklace) who woos some of the worst women our society breeds. Well, after the bachelor show ended, the girls from the Flav-a-flav show went to “Charm School,” another VH1 inspired icon of American television, where the trashiest girls on TV, way worse than the gals on Rock of Love, learned how to be ladies. An editorial note: right before we left the states, we saw that a group of the Rock of Love girls also had their own season of Charm School. Now, the most intriguing thing about this evening was that no one asked to change the station. One guy occasionally laughed with Eric and me in response to the lunacy on the TV, but no one said anything about the two trashiest television shows the US has on offer. No one asked how the show related to American society - are the girls really this stupid? Are their breasts really that big? No questions were raised until the next show came on - the Daily Show with John Stewart. Then, the questions were non-stop. Who is this guy? What is his deal? Is this real? Are those real news clips? It was stunning that the trashiest shows on American TV are swallowed without questions, but John Stewart elicits numerous questions and concerns.

Another night in the TV room we really pushed the envelope of the question how bad does the TV have to get for someone to change the station, and we realized it gets really really bad. An American movie called the Condemned, which may have been straight to video in the states was on the New Zealand version of HBO. It featured a bunch of death row inmates who were realized on an island and told they had a final goal of freedom if they killed everyone else on the island, as part of a web-based reality program. Starring no other than Stone Cold Steve Austin, I am stunned it was not an Oscar contender. It was one of the worst movies I ever saw, and we went to bed about 2/3 through. No one changed the channel.

One of our last nights in CHCH there was a big rugby match in town - The Wellington Hurricanes versus the CHCH Crusaders. I had been feeling under the weather, with a wicked sore throat, so Eric went out on his own to see the match. When he returned, he was filled with excitement. Although the home team did not succeed, Eric ate a meat pie from a vendor who carried the pies in a warmer on his back; drank very cheap beer for a sporting event; saw some of the most foul mouthed young women outside of Rock of Love or that Flav-a-flav show; and saw the local beer company offering free beers. Overall, an enjoyable evening at the races.

The Bone Dude

Back in the States, we saw one of our travel programs, Rudi Maxa, who went to a Maori village in NZ and carved his own jewelry. Our hostel in Christchurch had a bright orange flyer for the Bone Dude, advertising jewelry carving. Eric did some research on the internet, and for our last day in CHCH, we were off to see John Fraser, the Bone Dude. He is an expert, but self taught bone carver. He offers bone carving sessions for tourists. The total process takes about three hours. We picked our design. We were a little disappointed because the jewelry in the local shops had Maori meanings attached to the design. We saw some for travel, wealth, love, etc. John informed us it is all B.S. His designs are not assigned a Maori meaning. Even Maori descendants who come to his shop and want to make a Maori design are warned by John to research the design well and ensure that it is what they want. He told us most do not return with a confirmed meaning. So, we each picked a design that we liked. John cut a piece of bone slightly larger than our design, and placed a paper tracing card over the bone. He started us by placing the bone into a vice and armed us with a 9 or 10 inch long metal file, with one side flat, and the other rounded, to file the outside of the pattern. We followed the pattern as best we could. When we were close to the line of the design, he had us round the edges. Then, with a little help from John, who carved the hole for the necklace, and carved the inside of the design on a fancy machine, we spent a good hour plus just sanding. First, we used a coarse sand, then medium, then fine. It took the full three hours, but we did it. We made our own bone jewelry. One of the best parts was sharing the experience with two Londoners on a yearlong holiday, and getting to know John. Reading about John in some of the local press we learn he no longer allows the amateurs to use the power tools after a dentist swore he knew what he was doing because “he drills all the time.” After the dentist took out some chunks from his fingers, John made stricter rules. I was happy to go the manual route. It was the best part of our experience in CHCH. Check John out at www.thebonedude.co.nz

Explore More With Tom

After our five nights in Christchurch we were itching to get back on the road again. We headed down first thing in the morning to pick up our campervan from ExploreMore. We ordered the Queenie model, named after Queenstown. It was a high top, Toyota HiAce, to sleep two “comfortably.” We had a little refrigerator, a small two burner cook top, a grill, which is more similar to a broiler, and a tiny little sink. The most appropriate thing was that each van has a unique name, generally after some ExploreMore employee or manager. Thus, the side of our van reads “ExploreMore with Tom.” Fittingly, and Tom v. Traveler enjoyed the ride in Tom the campervan. We were told it was named after “some manager on the North Island.” This was our first campervan experience so we needed someone from ExploreMore to walk us through all the gadgets. We spent about 10 minutes with a bloke who I think may have been still hungover from the night before, or possibly still drunk. He had his stag night (bachelor party) the night before, and I think we were lucky to have him even awake and at the office at 9am on a Sunday. We tossed our bags in the back and drove off to the Pak n Save to stock up on groceries and booze.

On the way over I think I had a little OCD attack. Tom the van seemed much smaller than I had anticipated and I had a moment of where is everything going to fit? Where are we going to sleep? Can we actually fit any food into that fridge? When we arrived at the Pak n Save we spent about ten minutes in the parking lot unpacking our clothes and necessities, storing our back packs, and arranging a few other things, which made me feel a bit better. So long as we could fit food in the fridge and cabinets, I think we were good to go. After stocking up, we were on the road, heading west from CHCH to Queenstown. I learned also that my seat had a pretty hefty slant to the left, against the window, making it a bit uncomfortable on the long journey. Also, some mechanical system behind my seat made hot air blow straight up the side of the seat. I persevered. I figured, as long as the mechanical system does not explode, I would be fine.

After a good bit of driving through the countryside, with mountains and many, many farms, complete with sheep, cows, horses, and alpacas, we were close to Queenstown. We saw a bunch of wineries winding their way through, and the famous original bungy jump location. Our initial goal was to head to Te Anau, which is the jumping off point for the Milford Sound. To make it all the way from CHCH to Te Anau was about a seven hour drive, and we did not leave CHCH until after 11am. We figured we could stop in Qtown, and make the drive to Te Anau in the morning. As we approached Queenstown, Eric had a second wind, so we continued past the adrenaline capital of the world and figured we would drive until Eric became tired. This is how we ended up in Kingston. Kingston is a small hamlet at the southern tip of a huge lake that spreads out from Qtown. It is known only for its vintage steam train that runs tourists back and forth between two arbitrary stops. At this point, we were not sure whether we should pay to park in a campervan facility, or Holiday Park, or if it was doable to park on the side of the road and wing it. We passed several park signs, which are blue with a picture of a picnic table and a tree. Essentially, we learned, that so long as there is not a “no overnight camping” sign, you can park your van anywhere, particularly near one of these signs. For our first night we went conservative and found a cheap and not too charming Holiday Park in Kingston. It was a good thing too. We drove into the park, paid the lady our $28 for use of the park, and drove over a bridge spanning a mediocre, but well advertised creek (this Holiday Park advertised that it had a river view). This is when the city girl in me once again comes roaring out. The Holiday Parks usually have bathrooms, showers, kitchens, and sometimes a TV room. The quality and the cleanliness are generally pretty good, but this is not the Ritz Carlton. After using the facilities, we started to make our first of many famous campervan dinners. Now, we have a gas grill at home. Eric lights it all the time. Our campervan’s gas stone was similar in that you need to hold the knob to light it, stick a match in, and hope for the best. After several failed attempts, we succeeded, somewhat, with a very weak flame. I made the mistake of trying to turn the knob to increase the flame size and it blew out. When we tried it again, nothing happened. It did not even smell like gas was coming out, nor did we hear the gas when we turned the knob. Eric checked the main gas line several times. Now, we realized at this point we would not starve to death. We had plenty of food that did not need to be cooked. Nutella sandwiches and yogurt could be a satisfying dinner. But, instead, we used our cookware in the Holiday Park’s kitchen, complete with some of the largest spiders this side of Fraser Island. A simple Indian buttered chicken with basmati rice, and dinner was served. Tomorrow we deal with why we can’t figure out our stove.

We had some quality red wine from a 3 liter box that we bought for a little over USD$8 (Beth, I hope you still hold some respect for us). The Country Red Wine is “Guaranteed Quality Wine - a Favourite In New Zealand . . . perfect for sharing with friends.” I will note that a few nights later we saw on the side of the box that the wine was “clarified the traditional way, using egg whites.” Mmmm. I am getting more skeptical. But, the wine box promised 31 servings, so it was deal! At this point in the trip, as we made up our bed for the evening, we are excited about our adventure, and even about drinking our boxed wine. Eric wondered whether the excitement was just the “kitsch factor” and whether it would eventually wear off. I reminded him that if we became tired of sleeping in the back of a van down by the river we could always check into a motel for the night. And with that, we closed up the van, took our positions, read for a bit, and called it a night. Of course, I slept with my feet directly up against the side of the stove and Eric’s feet hung over the edge of the bed, but aside from that, home sweet home.

Fiordland

In the morning we showered, ate some breakfast, and hit the road towards Milford Sound. We were trying to make the remainder of the drive in time to catch a boat cruise at 12:20. We had less than three hours to go. The ride to Te Anau was fairly uneventful, many many farms again, and cows, and sheep again. As we closed in on Te Anau, the mountains became even more incredible, with the morning sun creeping in, and the clouds hanging low over the mountains. From Te Anau it was another two hours to the Sound, but at this point we were inside the national park. I read that the drive to the Sound is half the benefit of the journey, and the book was accurate. We kept at good driving pace, but continued to marvel at the changes in the mountain landscape. First, the mountains were in shades of brown and rugged, with some snow capped cliffs. Then, the terrain became more moist and tropical, with dense green vegetation, still with a mist of rain. We passed the launching point for one of the world’s great walks - the Milford Track - a 5 day tramp through the Fiordland National Park ending on the Milford Sound. Not this trip. As we neared, we hit Homer Tunnel, which was a little less than 4 kilometers long, but with only one lane. There was a traffic light at either end which changes every fifteen minutes between 9am and 6pm. I am not sure what happens after 6pm, but I noted that I did not want to find out. The road on either side of the tunnel was steep, narrow, and twisting. The tunnel itself looked as though it was dug by hand - this was not the Holland Tunnel. Finally, in just under two hours we made it to the launching point for the Milford Sound Cruises.

We hopped on our 12:20 small boat cruise for a two hour tour of the Sound. The rain had just temporarily passed so we secured a seat on the top deck, allowing unobstructed views of the dense green mountains and the amazing crystal clear waterfalls that careened down to the sound. We saw several fur seal colonies, and all thirty passengers on the boat acted like paid paparazzi clicking away to capture images of the lazy seals. The rain returned for a brief bit of the cruise. I read that you have not seen Milford until you have seen it in the rain. Although the misty rain was an experience, I would disagree. At the time it started to rain it felt eerie and there was a certain mystical feeling, but we could not “see” anything. You could barely make out the gigantic rock formations that were only feet from the side of the boat. I wondered how the skipper could even navigate.

If you look at a map of the area, Queenstown, Te Anau, and Milford Sound are all consecutive in a giant circle. I originally assumed that from Milford we could continue on that circle back to Qtown. But, due to the protected nature of the national park, we needed to do the entire drive in reverse. We attempted to stop at several points to sit along the river banks for a snack only to be interrupted incessantly by some of the worst gnats I have ever seen. So, we continued on our way towards Te Anau, with no inclinations regarding where we would stop for the night. I started to notice and understand the freedom of the campervan. While traveling by car, train, or airplane, I always consider the cities as the final destination, with the potential of day trips from the city. With the van, we could drive until Eric was tired, or we saw a nice spot to stop, even if it was in between two intended destinations, like Te Anau and Queenstown. In this case, we stopped in Te Anau to head to the Mobil station. We thought we would take a look at the gas tank that supplied the stove top to see if it was empty. After trying to communicate our issues with the woman at the Mobil we finally realized the gas tank was virtually empty. We asked the guy at ExploreMore the day before if it was full and he responded “yeah, it should be.” But then again, his stag night probably ended about an hour before his shift, so we chalked it up to young love and the excitement (or is it fear) of getting married in a week. After all of the driving that day, a total of at least five hours, we decide to spend the night in Te Anau in one of the most charming Holiday Parks we experienced. We were on a hill, perched above the town, overlooking a river and the mountains.
Because Eric was doing all of the driving, we had a bit of a role reversal from what happens at home. I have become the chef, or at least campervan cook. The dinner at Te Anau was black peppered lamb steaks and salad. Not gourmet to say the least, but a tasty creation cooking on a two burner gas stove inches from where I intend to sleep for eleven nights. I will note at this point that my other great meals included spicy chicken vindaloo, Thai seasoned lamb patties with Thai rice, black pepper steak with green beans, red wine seasoned venison sausages, and pasta with pesto. At Te Anau, we watched the sunset first from a picnic table outside, and when the sun hid behind the clouds and the temperature dropped, we watched the rest from inside the van. Two nights down and so far, we are surviving the campervan.

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Photos

Where are we?
The sign at the base of the Christchurch Gondola.

View from the top
Near the Christchurch Gondola.

The Bridle Path
The slant of the hill on the way down, and this was not even the worst part.

Akaroa Shuttle
I think my face describes it all - at one of the many stops on the way to Akaroa.

Flat White in Akaroa
Yumminess.

The Bone Dude
And, we are wearing our new creations.

View from the Road
An amazing bright blue lake under stormy skies

Vastness
On the road to Milford Sound

Milford Sound
in the eerie mist

Classic Eric
On the Milford Sound cruise

A little colder than Oz
On the Milford Sound

Comments

[darrell]

You are making me hungry

[Jackie]

Bret
Ha - love that you watched Rock of Love! Nice (and a bit frightening) that it transcends national borders. Miss you guys!