New Zealand - Our South Island Loop Part 1

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The ferry left a rain soaked and frankly rather gloomy Wellington but soon passed into bright sunshine as we neared Queen Charlotte Sound, our gateway to the South Island.

Albert, happy to finally be on quieter roads and thus bereft of his train of red faced gesticulating Kiwis that he had collected on the busier North Island, trundled us west of Picton and up the Kenepuru Sound; just one of many in the Marlborough Sound Maritime Park. The roads had suffered from the landslides that we’d become familiar with further North and in many places the road had just disappeared leaving a chasm of hundreds of feet into the sea below. Our campsite was beautiful though, on the edge of a shallow and sheltered bay.

The area is famous for the Queen Charlotte Track, a long distance footpath running north of Picton. We were only able to do a small section but that was fine as when it’s a bit hilly small sections of a walk are what Kasia likes best. By now the heavens had opened over Marlborough so, having got that uncomfortable sensation of rain triklling down our underpants, we headed east and then south, stopping for a night near Picton and then taking a wiggly and very pretty dirt road for many miles as it wound along the cliff tops and hugged secluded turquoise bays on its way to Blenheim and our next stop at Kaikoura. The tarmac road over the last 50km was no less amazing with fur seal colonies around every bend and the rare, and very beautiful, hector’s dolphins jumping and playing close to the shore.

In Kaikoura we had one of the highlights of the trip which was eating fish and chips and drinking beer. Sorry, lost my track there for a second, I meant seeing whales.
We took the Whale Watch boat out very early in the morning having had to wait for a day or two for the weather to clear. Now, while I felt a tingle of excitement (which could have been the mushy peas) at the thought of seeing a whale at close quarters I really didn’t think it was all that likely. I was quite content though to admire the Albatross and watch Kasia going strange putty colour as the boat shimmied up and down in the swell. The next minute however, a sperm whale surfaced just in front of us. It was truly massive and the skipper was able to hold its course for a good few minutes before it dived with an elegant wave of its flukes (that's its tail to you land lubbers). We saw two that morning and returned to the shore feeling that we’d experienced one of the true highlights of the trip, and a very nearly bit of vomiting.

Our route from Kaikoura took us south west, skirting the suburbs of Christchurch that we’d hear so much about in the coming weeks. We were headed for the lakes and mountains of central Otago and to break up the journey we stopped at a secluded Department of Conservation (DOC) site in a wild valley looking towards a horizon of snow capped peaks and wooded foothills.

The next night we camped in the shadow of Mount Cook just where Minas Tirith was superimposed in the Lord of the Rings films and after dinner (pasta again, Kasia’s starting to look like macaroni now) we walked up to the lateral moraine at the base of one of the many glaciers feeding the valley. The path finished at a sheer, crumbly cliff looking down over azure blue pools amongst the dark grey shale.
The following day we met up with Pete and Gaynor, our friends from Sheffield, who were over on their holidays. We did an excellent if somewhat breezy walk up to a glacial lake, complete with ice bergs, offering superb views of the peak. To say the wind was strong is putting it mildly. Pete, Gaynor and I, all being lofty in stature, struggled to remain upright and were forced to walk with a wobbly, staggering sort of gait to keep from toppling into the undergrowth. Kasia, blessed with her, um, low centre of gravity, looked on in amusement and helped out by taking the odd photo and guffawing at intervals.

We met up with Pete and Gaynor again in Twizel (yes, that’s a real place) and went for a superb meal. Kasia didn’t fancy the pasta for some reason. Having made arrangements to meet again in Fjordland in a few days time we went our separate ways with us dashing, sometimes in fifth gear, off to Queenstown.

In Queenstown we (although Kasia insists it was very much me) got a parking ticket. Apparently it is frowned upon to park facing the wrong way here, how primitive! So forty dollars the lighter, and with me imaging scenarios involving the soft parts of a traffic warden and a food blender, we left Queenstown heading along the lake to Glenorchy.
We stopped on the banks of Lake Wakatipu and the next morning, Valentine’s day, we had a lovely greasy fry up on the lake shore as the sun rose.

We arrived in Te Anau the next evening and met up again with Pete and Gaynor. The next day we hitched a lift in their car for the long, winding journey north to Milford Sound. The Fjordland has more rain than anywhere else in NZ but we caught it on a rare day of sunshine. The cruise was superb, running us close in to the shore under the vertical mountain sides and next to seal colonies and crested Fjordland penguins. The waterfalls were stunning, falling many hundreds of feet into the sea and with the sunhigh in the sky this created circular rainbows of the most vivid colouration.

On the drive back we stopped for a short stroll up to a snow field and waterfall at the side of the road and returned exhausted about two hours later having made a valiant and often ankle twisting ascent which was much longer than it looked from the car.

The next morning we left Pete and Gaynor for the final time as they headed north and we headed north more slowly. On our way we called at a cheesery (surely a cheese monger?) to indulge in a small mountain of goodness and, just to wash it down, we nipped next door to a vineyard and quaffed a few choice tipples. We’re getting pretty good at the old wine tasting now and would be confident in stating that they were all very …tasty.

We somehow, through the protein and wine induced haze, found ourselves on the banks of Lake Hawea (which I always want to say in a Geordie accent). The site, on the lake shore, was stunning and the road to it took us past an unusually shaped bay with a spit of gravel in the centre lending it something of a posterior quality. Its name, with that unerring sense of Kiwi frankness, was 'Bottom Bay'.
From the DOC campground we were able to walk up the steep mountain sides to above the tree line before skirting the contours and eventually arriving at one of the many survival huts dotted throughout the high country where we wrote in the visitor's book and posed with the axe. The views over the valley in the sunshine were breathtaking, as was the plunge into the icy lake to cool of afterwards.

We then headed up the west coast to, stopping to walk at the Fox and Franz Joseph Glaciers. We camped next to a trout lake and I managed not to catch anything. Again. At least the Glaciers were impressive even if my angling did let the side down somewhat.
Further up the west coast we stayed at Hokitika, a seaside town famous for its jade jewellery and driftwood sculptures. The campground as just behind the dunes so in the evening I went for a long run along the beach, aiming for David Hasselhoff and looking more like Benny Hill. Then I undid all my good work by eating fish and chips. Lovely! Afterwards we went across the road to a small cave filled with thousands of glow worms.

The next day we headed to a place which we’d been told about by a local couple on the road to Glenorchy a week or so before. We followed their directions and arrived at a swing bridge over a narrow gorge. At the bottom ran the bluest of glacial rivers full of wild brown trout. How I wanted to have crack at failing to catch those!

Continuing our way north we passed through Greymouth and headed up to the pancake rock formations of Punakaiki. It was here, while eating our sandwiches in the van, that we felt the earthquake that caused such devastation 200km or so to the east. For us it manifested itself in the camper’s gentle rocking, a bit like being buffeted by the wind. It would be at least a day before we gleaned the full extent of the damage in Christchurch when we eventually emerged out of the hills near Lyell into radio and phone signal, and a torrent of concerned messages from home.
The spirit of Kiwi togetherness that we witnessed in the ensuing days was really quite something as people offered up spare rooms in their homes and donated petrol, water and even Porta loos to the worst hit neighbourhoods.
We were to hear some incredible stories over the next few days such as the tale of one couple who, in their desperation to reach their family and while the police turned a blind eye, drove their crushed and flattened car all the way up to the North Island, catching the same ferry we would catch nearly a week later.

Abel Tasman National Park was our last Major stop on the South Island. We camped at the northern end at Totaranui and walked the upper section of the long distance coastal path. The walk was superb, through huge tree ferns and around twinkling blue coves. One evening I finally managed to catch a fish while casting a spinner into the surf off the beach. It was enormous, at least four inches long.
Over the next few days we covered the southern sections of the path as well by staying in Marahau and catching a taxi boat north, past seal colonies and nesting gannets before being dropped at the beach and wandering back.

We had thought that Abel Tasman was going to be the crowning glory of the coastal sections of our south island foray but New Zealand managed, as it has throughout our time here, to surprise us and exceed our expectations one last time.

On the way back to Picton for the ferry we decided to stay a few more nights in Marlborough Sounds and after an hour’s drive away from civilisation we arrived at a remote and very beautiful DOC campground on Elaine Bay. A wooden pier jutted out into the calm crystal clear waters and shoals of mullet glided over gigantic sting rays while exotic wading birds strutted along the shore. We walked in the woods to secluded coves and collected oysters and mussels from the pier at low tide, eating them while looking out over the mirror calm surface past the pine clad hill sides to the sea far in the distance.
I continued my roaring success on the fishing front by catching two barracuda; vicious looking things they were too with their mouths full of razor sharp teeth. At least these were big, about 2 feet long!

We finally got to out ferry exactly a week after the Christchurch earth quake. The whole town came to a standstill in two minutes' silence with the end signalled by a haunting blast of the ships’ fog horns.

Back on the North Island we headed for friends of a friend’s house near the Art Deco town of Napier. The house was beautiful and the landscape serene and peaceful. At least it was before Andy and I decided to shoot some clay pigeons with his 12 bore pump action shot gun! We had a lovely evening with them and their children before heading of the next morning on our way back to the Bay of Plenty.

Kasia’s Birthday was spent at a hostel which she had called at for lunch a decade ago and which she had often wished to return to. It didn’t let her down. The views from our room were superb. Knowing it was her birthday the owner insisted on cooking us fresh rock lobster. However, these needed catching so out we went with him on his boat the bring in the pots. It was a superb experience and made the meal all the more delicious in the evening.

So that’s nearly it for New Zealand. What a long blog entry this time; WAKE UP AT THE BACK! We’re back at Susan and Stewart’s on the Bay of Plenty preparing ourselves for the heart rending experience of handing Albert back in a couple of day’s time. I don’t know how we’re going to handle that, we’ve grown quite attached and I’ve only left his lights on and drained the battery twice.

We have loved every minute in New Zealand. Next stop, South America!

Love and best wishes,

Tom and Kasia

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Comments

[James]

JUMP
I remember walking across this bridge as some poor hapless teenager clung onto the outside while a group of bikini clad girls shouted at him to jump. After a half hour wander we returned to find that he was still there, only by now shaking and looking very scared. I suggested that he would be fine and about 30sec later he plunged to what could only be described as gut wrenching belly flop. I hope he got lucky with one of the girls...he deserved it.

[rosie]

wow!!!
I am sooooo jealous!! that is fantastic. xxxx