A magnificent road trip through the lakes (not literally)

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After yesterday's crazy jetboat experience, my back appears to be no worse for wear, which is fortunate. However the day didn't start well in other ways. The irritating German roommates decided to get up and recommence backpack rearranging at ungodly o'clock, and carried on for the next 3 hours, unpacking, repacking, changing clothes, and going in and out of the dorm. Now, usually calm, mild mannered me (what do you mean, you don't recognise those qualities in me?!?!), would not normally have caused a fuss, but I did, huffing and puffing my way down the stairs, like a child post-tantrum.

However, the dark cloud lifted when I realised that today I was cutting loose - free from the shackles of the usual NZ backpacker transport of choice, the bus - and picking up my bargain of a hire car from the airport. There's a wide selection of buses available for the budget backpacker in NZ - all with quirky names. Kiwi Experience, Stray, Magic bus etc. I was advised by Sarah, friend from Melbourne, that Stray was more suitable for the 'older' traveller. Cheeky mare - she meant well in that it's less of a party bus (plus us Grandmas like to travel in a little more comfort!). I immediately ruled out the number 1 party bus, Kiwi Experience, and of course, for those of you familiar with my being-punched-on-a-Manchester-Magic-Bus story, ruled out the Magic Bus on the grounds of previous experience... The car was the only real way forward.

I walked my cases the half a mile to the bus stop then decided to stage an in-street wrestle with them when I tried to get them on the non access-friendly bus. My case is not altogether smaller than me, and when faced with three half a foot high steps, I made it look like the Fawlty Towers episode with the dead body. Like Basil was trying to smuggle it onto the bus, hidden in my backpack...

Once at the airport, I'm read the rules of the hire car and sent out to view my new friend for the next 20 days. A lime green Toyota Vitz, allegedly suitable for 4 adults and 2 suitcases. It's the size of a broad bean and the colour of one, so just about suitable for me and the dead body. It's also got nearly 150K miles on the clock. An old broad bean. But I LOVE THIS CAR ALREADY! She may be little and old but she's fun - we hit the roads out of Queenstown towards Wanaka and I could tell we're going to be the best of buddies. 1.3L battered engine but goes like the clappers - splendid!

Wanaka is not meant to be on my route today but Hudson has persuaded me that it's worth a detour. And he's not wrong - a gargantuan lake in the middle of the town, surrounded by gorgeous mountains and cool bars and restaurants. Like its neighbour Queenstown, only smaller. I wished I could have stayed longer - mainly due to the fact there's an attraction called Puzzling World there - a house which on the outside, looks like a row of wonky buildings but on the inside is full of puzzles, mazes and toys: my idea of heaven (once a geek, always a geek). However the main mission today is to get to Te Anau, still a few hundred kms away...

The journey south to Te Anau was in parts amazing, in others fairly dull. The first part was the former - a drive like a coastal path but along the edge of enormous lakes rather than the ocean. Beautiful, tranquil and unspoilt, the road winds around the lakes' edges, where you've got to be on your game when driving a giant broad bean around for fear of either driving over the edge or being too camouflaged against the grassy hills on the other side.

The second part of the journey was less than exciting. Grass, fields and sheep mainly. I won't bore you with any more than that.

Arriving at Te Anau and there's another giant lake to welcome me! It's a lovely little town, where the lake is 10 times the size of it. The hostel is pretty good too - big gardens and a big barbeque area, which is perfect as the sun's out. Three bed dorm where the third bed is like half a bunk bed - imagine two beds toe to toe, and then another one balanced on top, covering the feet of both the beds underneath. French roomie is crazy but nice - older German roomie is more crazy and not so nice. Kicked up an almighty fuss at midnight when she returned about how hot the room was, how she needed the lights on, how she needed the door left open. Crazy French roomie didn't mutter a thing, despite knowing he had to get up at 4am to catch his bus.

There's a lesson to be learned right there - no more huffing and puffing for me, time to be tolerant of other roomies, irrespective of how irritating they might be. Let's see how long this lasts....

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