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Published: March 12th 2007
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Ian in Arrowtown
Pretty, small and quite boring Rach Well, we bid Queenstown goodbye and headed north to Wanaka - a more sedate version of Queenstown, so we had been told. Well, Wanaka is to Queenstown what Rolf Harris is to Steve Irwin, I reckon. But more of that later.
The journey started well, with a stop for tea and scones in Arrowtown. This had been an old gold rush town, and 19th century style buildings remained on the main street. The whole “saloon-bar-pan-handling-cowboy” theme had been played up somewhat in Arrowtown; a dangerous move as this inevitably attracts country and western fans, and indeed the New Zealand Country Music Club had their head quarters on the outskirts of town. We sensed the nearness of line dancing, which made us nervous and we moved on as soon as we’d finished our scone.
Further on route we passed by the famous Bungee jumping site of the pioneering firm A J Hackett. They’ve got it all set out so well there, with the jumpers diving off a very attractive bridge down a stunning gorge to dunk themselves lightly in the aquamarine waters of the river below. Visitors can view it all from a platform with an ice
Ian pretending he knows what he's doing
while in reality, just enjoying the taste! cream. Ian and I, along with a fair sized group of spectators stopped to watch about a dozen jumpers go down. I couldn’t help notice that the ‘crowd-pleasers’ were those who were most reluctant to go. The more blatant the fear and the more desperate the procrastination on the dive platform, the louder the cheer during the plunge. I am not sure whether this is the instinct to support the plucky underdog, or sheer sadism on the part of us spectators. Anyway, it didn’t tempt me in the least to do a bungee, so we soon got back on the road!
A few miles later and vineyards started to spring up on the roadside. At random Ian picked a driveway where a sign was offering lunch and wine tastings, and we found ourselves in the most idyllic looking winery you can imagine. Well, we sampled their full range, chatted to the bloke (born in Smethwick!) bought a couple of bottles to enjoy in the van, and moved on again towards Wanaka.
Here things take a turn for the worse. We were chugging along merrily, with a Bill Bryson audio book entertaining us, when a massive and terrible rumble
comes from the back of the van. I assumed that we’d run over an emu or a caribou or something large like that. Quickly, however, we discovered that the tread had come off a rear tyre at speed, which in turn had broken off our right rear lights. We were on a lonely, barren, featureless road, with tumbleweed rolling down the tarmac from time to time in the clichéd manner. It was a bad place to discover that the jack supplied with the camper van was not only unsuitable for a 4 berth campervan, but was also missing a crank handle! Ian wants me to stress his level of irritation at this fact, and I’d like to point out the cruel irony that we might have - but didn’t - brake down outside a winery! Miracle of miracles, we found we had mobile network coverage, and soon the AA promised to be with us. Our saviour arrived within the hour, which I thought was marvellous, and soon enough we were back on the road. Once we saw Wanaka in the distance, we knew we were home.
Our stay in Wanaka wasn’t the best, for the following reasons: a) It’s a pussy of a town compared to Queenstown. b) We had to fanny about there for a day too long to sort out the new tyre and the rear lights. c) It started raining on the second day and didn’t stop.
On the positive side, we made friends with two English couples whilst cooking our dinner in the campsite’s communal kitchen. We dined together, and stayed drinking under the BBQ terrace until the campsite curfew time. It was a jolly evening, and one of the ladies (not me, for once) was amusingly well oiled by the end of it.
Wanaka has one major attraction, and I use that term loosely. It’s a kind of mini theme park based on puzzles and optical illusions. It’s probably aimed at the 7 to 14 age group, so naturally Ian was gagging to get there. There were holograms, a slanted room with misleading visual references, a maze, and the piece de résistance, a trompe d’oeil mural of a roman toilet. I think that was it. Let me think… Yep, that was it. Having said that, I must have been one of the few visitors to be underwhelmed. The teens and tweens were ecstatic, pensioners raved about the holograms, and Ian, with much enthusiasm, got us lost in the maze.
So much for Wanaka. We drove out of town in the rain and headed for our next stop, the Franz Josef Glacier. The rain came down ever heavier as we drove. It was so torrential that it could have been Wales. We flicked through the brochures of people hiking on a crisp icy blue glacier, as we had hoped to do, but knew that it just wasn’t going to happen. Nevertheless, we had to stop for the night in Franz Josef Township as the following day would be a mammoth drive up north to the Abel Tasman Nation Park. There, sunshine was promised; beaches, sea kayaks, swimming…
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KathandRay
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Wanaka
OK so Wanaka's not a cool place. Did we say go to Wanaka? did anyone say go to Wanaka? - No! and where did you go? Wanaka! Everyone said go to NZ but Wanaka? Sometimes you just don't listen to what we don't say........er..if you see what I mean. I'll finish here as I am getting confused and another headache's coming on.