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Plans eh? Made to be broken and I arrived in Christchurch, New Zealand with my arrangements in tatters. The additional unscheduled trip to Alice Springs meant that I had no time to activate my Working Holiday Visa and settle for a while in Wellington with the lads. If my committment to meet Enda in Asia was to be honoured, I had a little over a month to explore New Zealand and this was one country that I just wasn't prepared to rush. The planned rendezvous with my talismanic travel-buddy Kenny Mc was bizarrely scuppered by his inspired challenge to traverse the South Island by bicycle so I faced yet another leg of my trip as a 'single traveller'.
However, by now, I was well-accustomed to this form of travelling and if my previous experiences were anything to go by I stood to uncover far more friendships this way than I would travelling in an established group. Lynchy and Rory ensured that I was sorted from the outset by putting me in contact with Linda their mate from Sydney who was working in a hostel in Christchurch. The wee legend that she is sorted me out with digs and I whiled
away a few rainy days at the opposite side of the bar from her as she saw me right for beer and food. (it's ok I won't tell anyone, nobody reads this anyway ;o) Not wanting to over-stay my welcome, I had to organise onward plans; the 5 English girls I met in the hostel didn't exactly have to twist my arm before I agreed to joining them on the Kiwi Experience...
I had been told that the Trans-Alpine train which runs from Christchurch to Greymouth was not to be missed to I stuck to my guns and agreed to meet the girls on the West Coast. The train itself is state-of-the-art and features an outdoor viewing-deck an ideal platform for taking in the eye-watering scenery as you cross the Southern Alps that run down the spine of the South Island. Jagged stony-grey mountains, deep-blue rivers and sweeping gorges amid the expansive yellow plains are all mainstays of the dramatic landscape but each turned corner reveals some unique nuance that keeps you captivated.
Greymouth greeted me before I was really ready to arrive and the charming hostel I checked into couldn't have been in sharper contrast to the
barren mining town in which in found myself. I was sharing a room with a fella from Dundee and a Canadian girl with whom he was travelling. We hit it off straight away and shared a lovely drive through the countryside to Lake Brunner for a spot of entirely unsuccessful fishing. In fairness my mind wasn't exactly trained on the sport, there were 2 other sentiments occupying my thoughts: 1. What a beautiful and unspoilt countryside I was in; and 2. Thank God my Dad got me out of Dundee before I had the chance to pick up what must be one of the most unintelligible accents known to the English language!
With a full day to spend before the Kiwi bus was due to pick me up, I booked onto a caving tour which sounded like a bit of an adventure. It wasn't dissimilar from the canyoning I experienced in the Blue Mountains only this time we were underground. We scrambled through the rocks and pools in the pitch dark with only our helmet torches to light the way. There were a couple of cool slides and plunges to negotiate before the tempo was slowed as we floated
in our rubber rings with the torches off looking up at the glo-worms who appeared as stars in the night sky against the blackness of the cave. We finished with a claustrophobia-defying clamber through the tightest of crevices culminating in the 're-birth' through a tiny hole in the cave; if it wasn't for my uncharacteristic feat of contortionism I reckon I'd still be in there today. I was the only one brave enough to take on the 'deathslide' down the side of a smoothed rock face on a gym-mat. Brave of course can also mean stupid - I had to sign off that I accepted death as a potential outcome, but I figured that was part of the gimmick. Actually, I did balls-up the technique a bit which had the guide looking worried. I would have pictures of the whole experience if the lying bitches who said that they'd send me them had kept their promise but dem's the breaks.
It's frustrating that I'm restricted to such bland anecdotes. As the title suggested I do have a cracking tale involving a cowgirl, a dwarf, a dead fella and a goldmine but my parents read this and in the interests of preserving my relationship with them I'm not gonna be able to commit it to print. I guess some stories are best saved for the pub...
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