Wedding cake and bum ache

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A few movies and a few more scotches after leaving Heathrow I arrived back at Auckland International. I stepped through into the arrivals hall and was looking about for someone who might be willing to take pity on a smelly traveller when a small six year old torpedo launched itself out of the crowd and attached itself to my right thigh. Luckily it was only my niece Kyra happy to see me again and wanting a present of some sort. Luckily again I had one prepared (courtesy of Heathrow shopping plaza) and was able to ease the vice-like grip and keep her happy at the same time.

I had come home to be groomsman for my brother Richard who was getting hitched to Melissa. It seems that just about every time I come home I get dressed up in a penguin suit and stand next to someone else in a penguin suit who is getting hitched to some sheila in a nice white dress. Not that I am complaining cos I get lots of nice free food and booze which you should really never turn your nose up at.
It was an excellent day, good to see family and old friends again and everything went rather well, except of course for the bridal car breaking down quite convincingly halfway through the photos. The photographer did get lots of pics of five tuxed-up lads all with their heads under the bonnet of Richard’s metallic blue Mustang which was very enthusiastically not going anywhere at all. It also appeared to me that the Bride in the back seat was significantly less than impressed and doing her best to stare giant evil holes through the Grooms forehead. But we got there in the end and a very good reception was had by all.

The day after the night before I woke with a head less sore than anticipated and had to immediately get packed up for a week of being a tourist in Queenstown and cycling through central Otago with an uncle, two aunts, two cousins and two friends.
I find quite embarrassing the puny amount of New Zealand I have travelled through, having lived there full time for the best part of 20 years. Perhaps the most valuable thing I have come to understand from travelling about is just how damn lucky we are to be Kiwis. I have tried to make it a habit to explore a new part of the country every time I am home and have discovered the richest most spectacular scenery right in my own back yard and been amazed that I never noticed it before. I have actually been made speechless on several occasions, driving through the Bay of Plenty, Northland and Otago, sailing through the Marlborough sounds and up the east coast, actually pretty much every new place I have seen.

Especially brilliant was the landscape down south, along the Central Otago Rail Trail which follows the path of the disused railway line in the area.
We spent three days in Queenstown before bussing to Clyde to take delivery of our bikes and join the trail. The trail is 160 km long which took us four days, pretty mild going but plenty enough to make my arse wish it were somewhere else. It was so sore in fact after the first day that I couldn’t actually sit down on the seat for the first few hours. Eventually cheeks were numbed sufficiently and it was tolerable, except when traversing the bumpy timber bridges.
The Otago landscape really comes to life in Autumn, classic deep oranges, reds and yellows filled the valleys and riversides, contrasting with the dry tussock and fields, and the unbroken blue sky. We were exceptionally lucky with the weather, we hit an unbroken clear stretch of crisp days which only ended when we finally made it to Dunedin to catch the flight home.
The rest of my month at home passed very quickly, as it always does, and I only just managed to squeeze in a trip to Christchurch to see Claire and Dom before it was time to get back on the plane, brave the movies and the scotch and get back to Europe to start my new job on M/Y Moira.

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