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Published: February 5th 2008
Whanganui River Road
Much of the road is like this, as the gravel road clings to the edge of the often perilous valley. I drove the road, feeling every slip and slide of Bart across the road. Laura I am sure was not sitting comfortably. I was a bit more relaxed than the Grey Nomad in his rental transit van driving on this road, when really he didn't want to be.It was with not so spritely shuffles, yelps and a winces that we got into beloved Bart to venture on in our journey down the west coast. I was walking about like steptoe (minus the gerning of course) for days after our volcanic tramping expedition - I am craving a good sesh with my guru Johnny Yoga like nobodies business (Amy please send him my love - by way of a sedate zen bow or something). Avoiding the safe road and all sensibility we opted to drive down the unsealed Whanganui River Road which runs alongside a treacherous drop down to the river on one side and crumbly cliffs on the other. As we were approaching the start of this road we were stopped by a tiny road traffic controller of about eight years old. His Dad moseyed on over to us and started chatting to pass our waiting time for diggers and rollers to move out of the road. He was laughing with us about how the road was beautiful and a little bit hairy at times but that was what made it so fun, when an elderly gent (AKA Grey Nomad) driving a campervan came up to chat about
Sign posts in Jerusalem
Pointing to the convent that is half down the Whanganui River Road. where he was, and how he could find the safer road. As we waited for the road to clear we witnessed the conversation which was struck up between the traffic controller and the gent - this boiled down to a heavy sale of how beautiful the road ahead was and that the gent would be able to tackle it no worries. We thought nothing of this as the road finally cleared and we sped off with plumes of dust behind us and subsequently enjoyed the amazing views of the drops and towering cliffs that we'd read about. On one of our many pullover photo stops we were overtaken by the old gent who seemed to be having a whale of a time hand-brake skidding on the road, he even leant out of his window to give us a manic laugh and a wave as he went by. His distraught wife, who was a definite shade of grey (skin not hair) seemed terrified. I couldn't help but imagine what the old gent must have been like back in his hey-day, a hell raising wild child I'm sure, but a big "KUDOS!" to him I say! As you can see from the
Where does that gravel come from?
Answer: one of the many landfalls off the steep cliff along the river valley. photo's we had a full day of natures beauty which culminated in a tremendous sunset we didn't get a good picture of, we found a great domain reserve to park up in for a small price. The next morning I found the adventure playground you can see in the photos. I have no idea what it is about a flying fox that releases the inner 7 year old in you, but we managed to fritter a deliriously delightful couple of hours on it. Laughing till our sides hurt, we only stopped when there was a cue of actual children (unarguably the legitimate users of said fox) patiently waiting to have a turn. When we noticed a Dad marching over to tell us to give the other kids a go, we decided it was time to leave.
Spent some time in Palmerston doing our tats (Ben. This means "chores" or "jobs" in Geordie. Try dropping it into a sentence relating to going shopping in front of the in-laws to acquire some Geordie points) before topping up our wine levels.
It is at this point that I shall refer to the film Sideways - those of you who have seen it will
Woo-Hoo
Laura getting involved with her inner Tarzan. North of Palmerston North. understand my references here, and those of you who haven't seen this film "tut, tut! get your hiney down to blockbusters!". The wine region of Martinborough is famed for it's exquisite Pinots, having had an overload of tarty chardonnay we were more than pleased to read this and set out to work on developing our palettes and preferences for the right pinots. We sipped and spat and chatted away to many different wino's serving us up their best pinots, and alas we were not at all impressed by them. Franklly, we found them uninteresting, thin and on some occasions downright bitter! Thom fell for a cheeky little Riesling - which I will leave open for you to get his own wax lyrics on at a later date - and we both found out we are big fans of a very rare (well, in New Zealand anyway) Cabernet Franc. It wasn't until we visited our final vineyard that I was put into place by an English wine server who told me that it would probably take me a good while to appreciate the delicacy of Pinot (especially as a Shiraz lover) and that I should never close my mind off to
Backwards Childlike Swing-Hanging!
Exactly what is says on the tin! Taking zip-line play to the extreme. it until I have sampled it with a variety of meal accompaniments first. So there you go, it is therefore essential for me to get cracking on some feasts where Pinot must be drunk in abundance so that we can all do our best to search for the hidden wonder of it's layers and mystique. I can think of plenty of you subscribers out there who will be willing to jump on this bandwagon with us - so "Climb aboard! Let us feast and coif together!"
Next on our to do list was to make like elves and find some Lord of The Rings locations to mooch about in and take photos of. The map was littered with tiny charades-style cameras (and on the key/Legend in our road map this means Jacko filmed here). We had a laugh in Rivendell searching for familiar parts of the film and I discovered Thom is quite a Jessy when it comes to swingbridges. The unimpressive Minas Tirith and Helms Deep sites were filmed at a working quarry on the side of a motorway (apologies if this ruins any of the illusion for you) but we couldn't help but laugh at the thought of
Manawahu Gorge
A very attractive Gorge with a small railline twisting along its northern side, weaving in and out of carved tunnels. what it must have been like to try and get into the mind of a Hobbit in great peril, trying to cling onto a "motive" with a big ole crane just out of shot.
We didn't spend very long in Wellington as we've planned to check it out thoroughly when we pass through again on our return to the North Island, but we did meet up with Thom's touring pal Indy (real name Phillippe, but he had an Indiana Jones hat on for the entire WA tour) for some drinks and laughs in a few of the bars there. Witnessed a gal who was a yahoo of a crazy being restrained and escorted out of a pub in a dramatic way, and we re-charged at the end of the night in a really cool all night coffee place which made every kebab we've frequented look like a low level of Dante's Inferno by comparison. Perhaps it is the combination of coffee on top of alcohol and huge portions of good wholesome food that cleanses the clientèle back into being civilized, after their night out on the town? It was a real eye-opener into people watching I have to say. We
Home of the Tui.
Well the beer anyway. After drinking a fair bit in the north island on recommendation from a Kiwi in Melbourne, I thought it was important to see the Brewery and the famous tower. There would be a photo of it but it was hidden behind wire fences. So here's the sign. Drink up. (oh, and Laura got sick of drinking it. Still looking for our fav NZ beer) had another day soaking up a bit more of windy Wellington before our night ferry over to Picton, so we ventured to the top of the city on the tram and took in the sights and smells of a whole bunch of wonderful boutique shops selling second hand kitsch items as well as vast supplies of extraordinary books. Thom had to pick me up and carry me out of one of the shops as I'd gathered a pile of about 8 antique books that I was sure would be worth their bulk and weight, for the sake of the nourishment of my mind, despite their cost. Come to think of it, he did a great job of deviation there, I will have to make sure to sneak back to one of those shops and buy them when he's not looking when we go back there. I will avoid going into the details of the shops as I'll use up too much space here - but I will note a wondrous piece of delicious accessorising I vow I will own at one point. It was a picnic basket in the shape of a giant plastic apple which unscrews to store all
Deserted House on a Hill
Looking like something out of a 'Deep South' horror movie was this house. Of course I had to take a picture. This was opposite what Lonely Planet described as 'NZ's most pointless tourist attraction' (something like that), which is 'Stonehenge', a homage to to stone circles and star gazing activities. We got there and found that you have to book in advance to see it. Anyway, we had tuna sandwiches and crisps, and headed for the Martinborough wine region. No loss is what I'd say! your picnic essentials. Could anything be cuter? Really! I must have it!
Enough of my material yearnings - I shall lock that beast away!
So. . . . . We got on the night ferry over to Picton. Not much to comment on here really. It was a night ferry. If you've been on a ferry you know what happened. We had no views as it was black outside, so we've got a sunrise shoot planned of the views for our return trip. We will post the fruits of our labour then.
More to follow on the South Island, up next.
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