Advertisement
Akaroa
The French-Maori town at sunset So this is the beginning of our adventures in New Zealand. Hundreds of miles from anywhere, in the middle of nowhere. Just to clear it up, we’re now in Canada, basically at the end of our trip. But I’m still catching up on the blog, hence I’m only just writing about us landing in NZ, when we actually arrived there on 28 April.
Make sense? If you can get your head around our latest Marty McFly time travel trick, then you’ll find yourself with us collecting a motorhome at Christchurch airport. Using my extensive reach and worldwide network of contacts I pulled a few strings, Obama style, and sorted us out a van for three weeks. Upon collection we were shown around the van, including super swank DVD player, and got a couple of travel mugs thrown in for free from the good people at Maui rentals. Hey, it’s not what you know...
The DVD player was a bonus but, frankly, having spent most of the previous month sleeping on rutted ground the bed was the best bit about our new accommodation. The freedom of having wheels for three weeks was also very exciting. Our first stop was Akaroa,
which is a quaint little town about an hour from Christchurch. It’s got a French feel because the first settlers there hailed from the land of cheese and infidelity. The French thing is hammed up a bit, only really extending to a few Franco signs and tricolours. But regardless, it’s a really pretty place on the water, with a laidback old-friend feel.
Wanting to get out and explore we began heading south, along the east coast. Over the next three weeks we wanted to tour most of the south island, before driving through the north island on our way to drop off the van in Auckland. So we had a lot to pack in.
But we couldn’t resist stopping in Geraldine, in honour of Emilie’s Memere. We drove through town, photographing everything that was emblazoned with her name. In truth, there wasn’t a lot in the town but it made a good stop-off point for the night. We stayed at our first DOC, which is a Department of Conservation thing, where they set aside a section of land for camping. You turn up and pay on an honesty system. It’s really cheap and means you camp in amazing
secluded locations, set in incredible scenery. Our first experience of one in Geraldine was deserted. There was just us, with only the mountains for company. That’s a bit eerie at first, when every sound of a passing animal sounds akin to a skulking sociopath come to prey on the green tourists. But we soon settled in, and woke to a beautiful sunrise that was ours alone.
Reluctantly driving on we stopped off at Lake Tekapo. It was a couple of hours’ drive and afforded us our first glance of the Southern Alps that form the spine of the south island. The lake sits at the base of the mountains and is the most incredible turquoise colour. It’s so vibrant because of the minerals in the water, but you soon forget the technical questions when you’re confronted with this startling fresh water. One of the best things about NZ is the scenery (just ask Peter Jackson. He set his films here, and is guilty of encouraging invasion by endless Tolkien geeks). But wherever you drive, especially in the south island, you are treated to varied and life-affirming scenery. It really is spectacular, and bullied other views and skylines into the
back of our minds.
Most of what I’m trying to describe is best seen in the photos, which is a painful admission for a writer. But really, you need to see it with your own eyes.
The next night we stopped at a very basic site, but met a nice couple who owned the place. They have a daughter in Ealing, in London where Em and I were living. The more people you speak to the more connections to England you find, which is funny. The more people you speak to the more people who hate their cocky Aussie neighbours you find, too, which is also funny. We found the Kiwis a genuine, down-to-earth bunch, who liked nothing more than a cold beer and an empty diary. Everywhere was relaxed and unhurried, and if the country wasn’t quite so cut adrift from all other civilisation we might have been tempted to stay.
I’ll leave you with us just about to enter the Catlins. This is a national park so isolated and empty of all but great views and sheep that those who don’t stock up properly before entering will surely be found emaciated, broken-down and betrothed to
Lake Tekapo
Azure wonderland a beast.
Love you, bye.x
Advertisement
Tot: 0.191s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 9; qc: 66; dbt: 0.0639s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
REEZSS
non-member comment
MarkandEmilie, I've just been taking in the semi-final and, a few sheets to the wind, was about to send a reply to this latest post along the lines of suggesting that for your next port of call perhaps the pair of you might want to check into the Hotel Reality for a all-inclusive stay which involves rolling your sleeves up and doing a hard days work to actually earn your own keep rather than having 'daddy' bank roll your way round the globe like its your own private play pen. Then, I saw the picture of the car! Smooth ride.. and love the plates:) Hope all's well- Canada eh? Jammy cuntzss.