Windy-puffs, upchucks and revol-ewe-tions at the bottom of the world.


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Oceania » New Zealand » South Island
December 8th 2006
Published: December 14th 2006
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Mt Ruapehu,Mt Ruapehu,Mt Ruapehu,

On the way to leaving North Island
2nd November to 5th December 2006


AN APOLOGY FROM THE AUTHOR


I am aware that I have been a bit lax with the entries lately and am sincerely sorry for any inconvenience caused. Rest assured that normal service (well, as normal as it is ever going to get) has been resumed and you should be receiving another update in the very near future (you lucky, lucky people)! I also have to apologise for the content of the blog you are about to read. Some may find it offensive and others will find it as sub-standard as usual. It must be made clear at this juncture that the characters, places and events are not intended to bear resemblence to factual people, locations or situations. In addition, the opinions expressed therein are not necessarily those of The Author or his representatives. Therefore, The Author cannot be held responsible for any offence taken what-so-ever, nor for any ill-effects suffered by any individual as a result of reading this drivel (this also means he cannot be sued or prosecuted). And in any case, he made most of it up and if you want to believe his lies, then that's you're own
Finally, a Namesake!Finally, a Namesake!Finally, a Namesake!

Again, on the way south
bloody stupid fault, so there! Nah! Sincerely though- sorry Dad, it's only a joke.



Congratulations Wellington! Windy! WINDY!! You’re ‘avin’ a Giraffe! In earlier entries I complained about breezy places, particularly San Francisco and how I felt it had the drop on the rest of the world in terms of windiness. However, after struggling up what I thought was a hilly street in New Zealand’s capital (leaning in to the wind at a forty-five degree angle, straining not to be blown backwards) I then realised that I was, in fact, on a perfectly flat pavement. So, the gale force factor medal for this trip must go to Wellington.

And now, having traveled the entire length of the country (I started drafting this in Invercargill at the South Island’s southern tip) I can also add that New Zealand is definitely up for the world’s windiest territory award too. I’ve hardly had a calm day since I’ve been here. Mind you, this and other natural phenomenon (specifically, the pungent perfumes created by areas of thermal activity) would make Aoteoroa an ideal destination for some people. I’m going to say the F-word now...... Yes, I'm referring to Flatulence! New
Crossing to South Island,Crossing to South Island,Crossing to South Island,

Through the windy Marlborough Sound
Zealand is the perfect spot for sufferers. A strong wind to blow away any unwanted botty-coughs and powerful sulphuric smells to cover up those that linger. Surely nowhere else on Earth can provide better conditions for keeping these sorts of indiscretions incognito?

Why am I telling you this? Well, truth be known, I have, as my long suffering ex-wife and the presently suffering Sarah will tell you, on the very odd occasion, suffered from this affliction myself (the very odd occasion being, on average, around forty to fifty times a day). Now, before “The anti-back-end-breathing brigade” go “Eughhh!!” in disgust, I feel it is my duty to explain that Flatulence is actually an hereditary disease, ACTUALLY! Yes, it’s true and it really can't be helped. “Hereditary?” I hear you ask, doubtfully. Oh yes, and this I know for sure. My Father has been a sufferer all his life and has unwittingly passed this curse on to me. However, he learned the art of control years ago. He is like a Zen fart master. He has perfected a technique where he is able to refrain from flatuating for the whole week and then, on the Sabbath, he retires to the
Something Must've Got up His Nose,Something Must've Got up His Nose,Something Must've Got up His Nose,

It's not wise to upset the locals though.
toilet accompanied by the Sunday papers for approximately an hour and a half. Such discipline, you have to admire the man. I personally can only dream of the day when I achieve this level of management of mind over matter or rather, as it is in this case, gas. All that said, it is still not advisable to visit my parent’s house on a Sunday afternoon, just in case you have to use the loo!

The hereditary point has been proved further by the recent discovery of two DNA strains thought to be the basis of this inherent affliction. They are the “Durti-steenkeen Smaeli-us” and the "Bluahoel-eenthuassov Apera” genes. So, there you have it. Flatulence is a scientifically understood disease and not just a case of dodgy eating and bad bowel control. With this new found knowledge I hope that, in future, you will be more tolerant towards those that bear this cross every day (particularly if we happen to be sharing the same air one of those days and my cross gets up your nose)! Oh, and thank you New Zealand for providing such a wonderful refuge from a disapproving public.

From windy Wellington I went across the water. I drove straight down the South Island’s east coast to Kaikoura and, suffering from a slight lumber strain (effects of too much traveling and not enough exercise), I booked in to a hostel instead of sleeping in Nubies cosy but confined confines. That night, I treated myself further to a few beers in both of the town’s pubs, which were conveniently located across the one street from one another. This, as it turned out, was not a schmoove move on my part. I had booked myself on a Whale-watching trip the next day but, having had plenty of prior experience at this sort of thing, I was more than confident at being able to handle a hangover at sea. There was little or no chance of me doing an up-chuck whilst out on the water due to self-inflicted seasickness. WRONG!! I was as sick as a dog that had just eaten eighty-eight hard boiled eggs and washed them down with a schooner of salty water. Just by pure luck, the three ten minute spells I spent not talking to God on the big white ‘phone coincided with appearances of the sought after Sperm Whales.

Despite my partial incapacitation, I did manage to grasp a good impression of these magnificent mammals. Though only the top of the head and mid torso were visible above the pulsating waves of the South Pacific, their size and presence were palpable. Another aspect of the encounters I found fascinating was the “water-spouting” from their blowholes; Huge plooms of mist thrust skyward with alarming force and a powerful “pooooscht” from the animal’s internal organs. I was, however, somewhat less than impressed when we were informed that it wasn’t water being expelled at high speed but was, in actual fact, mucus. Not a non-fiction my grumbling guts needed to know. Despite this disgusting indiscretion, the Whales redeemed themselves by performing perfect dives down to the deep, much to every onlooker's delight. Their heads dipped below the surface, mid-sections arching high above the white-capped waves and then, in one free-flowing motion, their tails looped up out of the water and slowly sunk silkily into the ocean. As nonchalant a wave goodbye as you will ever witness.

As graceful and attention grabbing as the Whales were, they were seriously upstaged in the fun and frolics league by the Pod of over two hundred Dusky Dolphins we sailed in to the centre of. Performing perfect jumps and flips from the water as far as the eye could see, they provided an endless energetic display to end the day’s fascination-filled excursion. I just could have done without spending three of the three and a half hours locked in the loo, that's all!

Despite recovering quickly from the self-induced nausea, my back was still playing up so, I headed for Hanmer Springs. Not far away and, as the name suggests, a thermal spa location famous for it’s hot springs. Perfect for soothing my poorly spine. After a couple of day’s R&R, Nubie and I cruised down to Christchurch. Here, one of my main ambitions of my amble round the Earth was accomplished. I got to see my Uncle Norman. Although he’s not very well, I’m sure he realized that I was there to fulfill a promise I made to him (what seems like a lifetime ago) to visit him in his country one day. As an added bonus, I got to spend time with his second son too. As with his first up in Auckland, the biggest compliment I can pay him and his wife is to say I knew I was with family.

Continuing down the coast I had intended on exploring Dunedin due to it’s Scottish inclinations but, decided to push on to Invercargill instead as it sounded just as Gaelic to me. I went to the countries southernmost city for a few reasons. One was to stand on the most southerly piece of land I’ve ever stood on at Bluff (which I’ll get to in a wee while). Another was to visit locations from the film "The World's Fastest Indian" (if you get the chance, see it, it's great). And, I also wanted to wind my way through The Catlins on the way there too. This is an area of outstanding natural beauty (as the snaps will show) but, I was astounded at what I witnessed en route;

Stopping for one of those unscheduled but necessary stops, I heard a commotion in the paddock beyond the tree I had chosen as my convenience. Peering (that’s peering) around the broad trunk, I spied a load sheep. I suppose you could say they were just flocking about but there seemed to be more going on than just mindless flocking. A large Ram, resplendent in his copious winter coat, stood atop a rocky outcropping at the end of the field. He was flanked by a smaller, newly sheared Sheep and was addressing those assembled before him;

“They preach democracy but there is no vote for the majority group in this fair land of ours…...”
“Yea-a-a-a-h” bleated out the crowd in unison and the sound reverberated around the hills. A chill traced its way down my spine.
“These Humans preach equality but, practice atrocities….”
Again, “Yea-a-a-a-h” agreed the baying throng before him.
“They have their dogs chase us around the mountainsides, they lock us up in pens, they push us through chemical baths, they eat our children and they steal our winter coats. Look what they did to poor Shorn here....” He gestured to his companion “He was just minding his own business, chewing the cud with some ma-a-a-a-tes and along comes this human and (wait for it-ed) just, fleeces him. And in broad daylight no less.”
There was a "Ga-a-a-a-sp" from the masses below.
“I have even heard stories of Sheep being sexually assaulted by these animals. These abuses have to be halted.”
“Yea-a-a-a-h” cried the crowd once more.

With a real menace
Mmmmm, Chocolaaaate!!Mmmmm, Chocolaaaate!!Mmmmm, Chocolaaaate!!

Cadbury Factory, Dunedin
the Ram continued; “It is clear that complaining alone will not change the Human’s attitude. We have been bleating at their deaf ears for years. We must take action.” He was working them up into a fleecy frenzy.
“We must revolt. Only then can we hope to fulfill long held dreams like a total ban on Mint Sauce, deportation for Border Collies and equal rights for all Sheepkind, yes even the so called bad, black ones of our families. Make me, Che Gueb-a-a-a-a-ra your leader, your "One Ram to rule them all” and I will make those dreams come true........ Will you follow me?” His flourish was met with a resounding “Yea-a-a-a-h.”
But, I did hear a Ewe turn to her friend and say “Of course we bleedin' will, we’re Sheep, it’s what we do!”

The excitement was too much for a Lamb near the front and before he realised he’d had an individual thought, he blurted out;
“Shall we get the pugs (that’s Kiwi for pigs) to join us?”
Che whispered to Shorn “Bla-a-a-a-a-dy Hell! Haven’t these kids ever read “Animal Farm?” However, he smiled sweetly to the assembly and said “No, but we could ask the Horses and Cows if they will help us with our coup de d'at against the callous Kiwi's.” He then drew attention to the representatives of each of these groups who had been watching proceedings from over the fence to the next field.
“What say you?” Implored Che “Will our Equine and Bovine bra-a-a-a-thers join us in the fight against the Human scourge?” A suspense-filled hush fell over the scene. You could have heard an anticipated pin drop but, only the faint parp of a fart whispered out from behind a distant tree (I told you it couldn't be helped). Then, the Horse finally looked up, shook his head as if he was simply brushing the Flies from his neck with his mane and said “Neigh.” All eyes now fell on the Cow, with every Sheep's head turning in its direction as if they were connected (or maybe they were just copying the one at the front). But, the Cow just stared back vacantly and said “Mooo!”

Well, what did you expect it to say, it was only Cow after all and Cows can’t talk, that’d be ridiculous.

Enough of the Sheep politics, back to Bluff and surveying The Southern
On The Home StraightOn The Home StraightOn The Home Straight

A long one, but still on it!
Ocean from mainland New Zealand's southernmost lump of Terra Firma. Cape Flattery in the far north west of the continental US gave me a very similar and very strange feeling inside that something was changing. One journey was ending and another one just beginning, so to speak. At Flattery I knew my amazing American road trip would soon be completed, Canada beckoned and then it was the long, time consuming trip to here. At Bluff something struck me as I stared at the signpost that not only pointed out my proximity to The South Pole but, also confirmed to me that I was as far away from those that I love as I have ever been.

I think it has been made obvious by the way I wear my heart on my sleeve sometimes that I have suffered from home sickness recently. You might think that, being where I was, the feeling would have been amplified but, as I turned to walk away from the underneath apex of Aoteoroa, the opposite occurred to me. I realised that being as far away as possible meant that over the few short weeks that I have left of my year abroad, I
The World's Fastest Indian,The World's Fastest Indian,The World's Fastest Indian,

And, no, that doesn't include the ones that have you dashing for the loo after a curry!
will only be getting closer to home with every step. As with Flattery, I know I still have a lot of excellent adventures to experience, many miles to cover and nearly two months of time to traverse but, turning to face north from this southern extremity brought it home to me that I am now on the home straight of this astounding journey. Then, as always, another one will begin....



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14th December 2006

Now I know you have lost it - thought it for the last couple of blogs. Perhaps those back home kept you sane.
14th December 2006

Have a good 'un
Ian..........have a great christmas mate, looking forward to catching up in 2007!
18th December 2006

sufferers all the same!
Ian, Another great blog! Just letting you know, it is hereditary, we suffer the same windy-puffs in Canada! Have a Very Merry Christmas and keep the neeeeeews coming. Love Linda
20th December 2006

New Insights
I am certainly gaining new Carmichael insights with every blog! Have a great Christmas! love, Mrs P.

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