Kia Ora, Aotearoa

Been There, Done That

2012-01-10T01:23:00.000-08:00

Here is a map of the places we have been (minus others where there is no road shown on the map) on the South Island.

January 10 - Back to Christchurch

2012-01-10T00:49:00.001-08:00

Braindeath spreads...a girl sits in the middle of the airport concourse, plugged into a floor outlet so she can use her iPad and iPhone at the same time. God help us.

Like a leisurely stroll, we left Fairlie and wandered the back roads out to highway 1 at Temuka. Then it was the strait shot up 1 to Christchurch. We arrived, much as we had left, in the rain, and here we are again, the last night in New Zealand.

We decided that we would go out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant downtown. I went on line and searched. I found one that had nothing but 5 star ratings. I called to make sure it was open, or to see if we needed a booking. A Japanese man with poor english answered the phone. "Are you open for business?" I asked. "What" he replied. It went like this for a couple of iterations until he understood what I was asking. Finally he said "No open. Restaurant destroyed".

We selected another place and carefully laid out our route, but ran into the dead end not shown on the map. The city was in shambles right where we wanted to go. There are lots of one-way routings through the earthquake zone, but none to where we wanted to go. It appears that the building we were headed for simply no longer exists. By sheer coincidence we ended up in the area we had been on our first trip in 2006, to find that a Greek restaurant we had eaten in had been destroyed. It's pretty shocking to see the devastation of a place we had spent time in. This isn't supposed to happen in the real world. It's supposed to happen "over there"; you know, Chile or something. A few pictures just taken driving trying to find a way through. Not even close to the "bad stuff".

We ate here

I didn't even know Christchurch had a beach...

This is cool. The cart automatically puts on the brakes at the edge of the car park. It must be magnetic like one of those invisible fences for dogs. Now if they could just issue bark collars for the kids in the carts...

It's going to take some time for me to decide what I think of this trip, or if I'll return. I know that it has been too long and poorly organized. The only profound thing that I can say right now is I miss my cat.

January 7 - Fairlie; Another Day on the River

2012-01-09T18:33:00.000-08:00

While in Twizel I decided to check to see how bankrupt we were, because with four days to kill I thought I might spring for another guided day on the river. I found that if we sold two children (we don't have any so they would have to be someone else's) I could afford it, so we headed off in that direction.

We decided to take a little detour up around Lake Pukaki and over to Lake Tekapo by a back road route. There is a pretty good Japanese restaurant in Tekapo (can you guess why?) that I can't pass up whenever we come through.

Lake Pukaki looking south

Lake Pukaki looking (can you guess?) north - Mt. Cook "peaking" out

Snippet of Mt. Cook

We made it into Fairlie and checked into the Pinewoods Motel. Fairlie is a nice little town in a farming district. It's surrounded by green hills and rivers. And the best way that I could guarantee rain is to book an expensive fishing guide.

Bright and early Sunday morning we sat waiting for the guide (who was sitting in the parking lot of the wrong motel) to show up. We climbed in and headed off down the highway. I was a little skeptical because the rains that they had had for the last couple days had the river high and colored. However, as was later demonstrated, someone with 30 years of experience spotting trout in less than ideal conditions comes in quite handy.

Beautiful day...just like home!

Here fish, fish, fish...

Nice water. Can you imagine spotting trout in this?

Round one

Round two

Fly! Be free!

Third grade school pictures pose

It would be nice to put my hood up...but then I can't hear the barked commands

Round three

Round four

Into the backing, running for the rapids. This one was foul hooked so lots of horsepower

Thanks to a tactical error (on the fishes part, zigged when he should have zagged) he comes to the net

Great care is taken to ensure that they are healthy and happy before turning them loose

Squall line

Round five

Go home now...so the guide can make some more money off of you tomorrow!

After being dropped safely back at the motel we chose to go out to a combination Western, Pizza, Thai and Chinese restaurant. Our hopes were not high. We were looking at the menu (we wanted Thai) and had our mouths all slobbered up for some green curry.

I had to quiz the waitress about this because we have seen some pretty "creative" interpretations of curry. We were really surprised. All was excellent. In fact, we tried going there the next day but they are closed on Mondays. We opted instead for the "Flame Room" in one of the main street pubs.

I had the roasted chicken, she had some kind of chicken thing with girlie sauce. We had the great pleasure of being seated next to two married couples who had six boys (aged 8-10 I'm guessing) and one girl. The creatures began howling at the moon and tearing around the room. The entire coterie was adorned in flip-flops.

We were sitting eagerly awaiting our food when I looked up as the waitress came out of the Ladies room with our appetizer! Then a few minutes later out she comes again with our mains!

Whenever we mentioned going to Fairlie people would say "You've got to go to EAT's, they have the best breakfast!". Well, they are closed Mondays, so as soon as we checked out of the motel on Tuesday we trotted right over. Not sure what we were supposed to be looking for. The menu had exactly the same breakfast items as every other NZ restaurant. Maybe they're just better. Maybe by great they meant it in the proper context which is large, or extensive. Wrong again.

I ordered the pancakes with bananas, she had the eggs benedict. Mine was small and rubbery and tough, and at the same time doughy in the middle; hers had the only decent hollandaise sauce we've found here, but she had to use a knife to cut the bread. But the big bonus was when four women came in with ten children (boys) in the aggregate, ranging from about 5 to 10, who proceeded to run around like untrained animals shrieking at the top of their lungs. I'm beginning to see a pattern here in New Zealand child rearing practices. Half were bare foot, the other half left their gumboots outside so were stocking feet. All had the fledgling male kiwi attire: short shorts and rugby shirts.

It was like someone stuck an ice pick in my ear, or the smoke detector was going off and you couldn't find your big stick to shut it off. No big surprise, the women were completely numb to it. Made me feel like I was back in the good ol' USA. If I had behaved like that when I was growing up I would have been swiftly banished to the car to await a gruesome punishment when I got home. Can't wait to see what their kids will be like. Probably be whipped if they don't misbehave. It was one of the rare times when I ate faster than my wife and squirmed in my seat to get out. Next stop, Christchurch!

Funny Thing I Saw Today

2012-01-09T18:18:00.001-08:00

January 6 - Queenstown to Twizel - Homeward Bound

2012-01-09T17:51:00.001-08:00

On the way out of Queenstown we stopped off for breakfast. Our friends actually live in Kelvin Heights which is a kind of "suburb" of Queenstown. There is a nearby trading post (Remarkables Village) which has all the basic requirements without having to actually go downtown. However, we made the tactical error of going into the heart of the beast.

Anyway, we slithered into town and it wasn't 30 seconds before I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. You constantly had to keep your head on a swivel (to borrow an old fighter pilot's term) while driving to keep from using someone for a speed bump (tempting, but illegal; even here). We had one more stop to make (to pick up bleu cheese and cherries in Pinot Noir syrup), and afterward we decided to sneak out the back door rather than have to test my self-control again.

We sneaked into Arrowtown to use the much needed facilities before further travel. Ever heard of the movie The Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Well, this was just The Invasion of the Bodies. Help! Mister Wizard!

When we passed through Cromwell (whew!...nobody want to go there) we picked up a big bag of cherries at a roadside stand and had a competition seeing you could spit the pits the farthest into the wind while driving (the side mirror took a real beating).

We finally made it to Twizel (with cherries to spare), heaved a sigh of relief and checked into a motel. That night it just poured rain. It was the first time we had seen rain since November 24.

The Kiwi Caravan

2012-01-09T17:12:00.000-08:00

Apart from the bar-b-que and the blue tarp, there is nothing more iconic of the kiwi holiday season than the caravan. Caravan is the term used for tow-behind camping trailers which act like a kind of portable bach.

What makes this also iconic of the 1960s in the US, is the fact that the vast majority are towed behind cars. I can remember as a child hardly anyone we knew had a pick-up truck. So consequently the family car served as a multi-purpose vehicle (unlike our multi-purpose vehicles of today which only transport kids to soccer practice). It was used for camping, hunting (hence the stereotypical deer strapped over the hood), going to the drive-in (both movies and restaurants) and pretty much everything in between. I don't think I knew of anyone as a child who could afford two vehicles.

Similarly, we have seen very few pick-ups here. Instead pretty much everything has a trailer hitch on it (even SUVs) and everyone has a tandem-axle utility trailer. Pretty efficient.

At least 80% of all the caravans we have seen have been this model/vintage

Fun Kiwi Fact

2012-01-09T17:07:00.000-08:00

We found out an interesting factoid about sheep. I guess this is really more of a Fun Sheep Fact.

I don't know if you've ever had the occasion to pull a blanket out of a lake or not, but it gets pretty heavy. Similarly, if sheep are not shorn in a timely fashion, then during a heavy rain they will soak up so much water that they will fall over and can't get back up.

Te Anau to Queenstown

2012-01-09T16:58:00.001-08:00

After breakfast in Te Anau we headed out to Queenstown. Apart from a scheduled TipTop stop it was pretty much a straight shot.

We gave back the borrowed vehicle in roughly the same condition as we received it and picked up the 4-door Nanobot. After we said farewell to our friends we again headed north.

Jan 2 - The Eglinton River

2012-01-08T23:48:00.000-08:00

Bidding a fond farewell to Dunedin, and having only 3 days left before we had to exchange the Surf for a rental roller skate we headed west. Didn't know exactly where yet, but just "thataway".

We had visited the Eglinton on our last trip (click here) but it's a beautiful place so we wanted to see it again. So we made the voyage in spite of the hordes going up and down the highway to Milford sound. On our last visit we left at Christmas time. The surge in frenetic hordeism after Christmas is unbelievable, It's not likely we'll come again, but if we do we will be out of here before Christmas or not come until March. I go to great lengths to take pictures devoid of hordites. That way when I get old(er) and more feeble minded I can look at the pictures and pretend it was peaceful solitude.

The first night we camped at the river.

Cynthia's take on nature photography

90 degrees to the right there are 50 tourists taking the same picture

Clean water

The second night we spent in Te Anau. The next day we made for Queenstown. A few things along the way:

Camping...kiwi-style

Rising to a natural...

At this point we just want to be home...killing time...

Sea Lion "Sandflies"

2012-01-08T22:57:00.000-08:00

After my whopping two drinks on New Year's Eve I was still able to drag myself out of bed for breakfast. Today is going to be another beach day.

We started off with a drive out to the Otago Peninsula and a visit to the Albatross colony and exhibition. They wanted $65 per each to trek over the hill like ants to see nesting birds. Maybe next trip. We got to look at ugly birds for free.

Shags

After having to look at this crap scenery, we headed over to Allen's Beach for some more drab views.

The New Zealand Sea Lion (Hooker's sea lion) is an endangered marine mammal that likes to lay around on sandy beaches on the Otago Peninsula. When we were walking on the access trail to the beach we could look through the cut and see a sea lion scrambling along at a pretty good pace.

(telephoto lens)

Taking a closer look, there was a swarm of tourist "sandflies" chasing after him. There must have been about 20 people doggin' his track. The poor guy would huff and puff along until he just collapsed from exhaustion. When the swarm closed in he would get up and make another run for it. Finally, he just had to make a dash for the water.

Since he weighs in at about 900 pounds I was hoping he would crush a few on his way.

We decided to walk the length of the beach which was probably a mile. Along the way I noticed a hulk half buried in the sand, about 100 feet or more from the water. You know how when you stand in the water at the beach and every time the water goes in and out you sink a little? This carcass was laying in a depression just like that. It was a dead female sea lion. Wait a minute...did she just move? Picture this: a sea lion laying on its side, head lolled over, mouth open (full of flies), and flies swarming over her eyes. Then a twitch, and a shuddering breath. Boy this pup is on short final for sure. Maybe two hours until seal heaven.

A little further down the beach is another one. I'm starting to think maybe some seal disease or some kind of marine mammal domestic dispute gone horribly wrong. I walk over and bend down to take a closer look when...the eyes pop open.

"What? You never seen a dead seal before"

On the way back I noticed that the "dead" sea lion had been resurrected, hobbled a hundred feet further up the beach and "died" again.

A Funny Thing I Saw Today

2012-01-05T23:26:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year - yesterday...or is tomorrow? I forget

2012-01-05T20:00:00.000-08:00

They're starting to ship their illegal immigrants in segregated containers now

When we left Moeraki we took a leisurely pace and route back to Dunedin. The B&B lady told us about a coastal route so we took that. We were making our way along when we came to a rail crossing. The sign said "Look for trains". I was just making it to the crossing, looking left, and then just moving my head to the right when there came a blaring train horn. I slammed on the brakes and about 1.5 seconds later he went whizzing by.

After checking my shorts and catching my breath we continued on. Passing through a small town park on the beach Cynthia decides she needs the powder room. She goes around the building, heads into the toilet when she hears this massive banging/pounding. Turns out there is this old guy working on one of the stall doors. "That one works fine" he says as she enters. So, amidst the banging and pounding in the next stall Cynthia answers the call of nature. "Everything work ok?" asks the workman as she leaves. "Yes".

When we got to Dunedin our room wasn't ready yet, so we wandered around town until it was. It wouldn't have been a problem if we hadn't specifically requested the same room that we had last time. Our friends from QT showed up in town about 8 PM and we all headed out for a Pub dinner and a couple of pints.

Port Chalmers
The next day (New Year's Eve) was beautiful so our friends took us for a tour around, and we headed out to Port Chalmers on the coast east of Dunedin.

Looking arcoss the bay to tomorrow's destination

One of the things I'll never get used to is the crowded beaches

PUD's new prototype

There is an ancient Maori legend which tells of a great king, Muymuysakapoopoo who engaged in battle with a race of coneheads. He smote their ruin and cast them into the sea where they remain to this day.

The great VCR warrior Memorex who fought on the side of the king fell in battle. His box is testament to this tragic event

More evidence of the wreck of the great canoe Arai Te Uru are these Great Maori Jacks. The balls are interspersed with the Moeraki boulders and only a medicine man can distinguish the balls from the food baskets and water gourds.

"I think we should put the house right over there".

As we're walking down the path to the beach, Cynthia behind me says "Hey, look at this cool shell"

A minute later I hear "Hey, I found another one"

Ten feet later:

Nik and Jane: Charter members of the Queenstown "Help the Homeless Society"

"Thou Shell Not Pass!"

Defacing public property

The great king Muymuysakapoopoo giving the A-OK sign at the conclusion of the battle

Nothing good can come from a joke about this picture

The king

I was humming the theme from Rocky 1

Sarcasm can really put a powerful thirst in a man so after our beach adventure we retired back to Port Chalmers proper to the Carey's Bay Hotel. The Hotel is a 150 year old bluestone structure, with views of the fishing boats.

We were sitting having our libation when I was taken by a fantastic pencil line drawing of an old sea captain or fisherman. He was definitely the genuine article. Someone you could just hear in a Gloucester, MA Pub: "Aye, I remember it like it was yesterday when the great nor'easter come crashin' through...".

So I'm staring at this picture when suddenly I shake my head. "Wait a minute...that's that guy!"

This man had so much character in his face I could hardly keep from staring. Finally I just had to go over and talk to him. "I take it you're a regular" I said, pointing to the picture. He explained that the picture was done by a local artist as kind of a joke. I'm guessing he's the "Norm" of the Carey's Bay Pub. He was very friendly and I would have liked to have spent more time talking, but the natives were restless. I bet he has some amazing stories to tell.

After heading back into town we set up reservations at a decent steak house for dinner followed by securing a proper seat outside one of the pubs to wait for the music and fireworks to start in the Octagon. I went inside to get a drink. I ordered a double Jack Daniels, and paid the man $9. What I got back was a drink with (I'm not kidding) about 2 tablespoons of liquid. I had to tip the glass to see if there was anything in it. If I wasn't such a drunk I'd have given it back. "Holiday prices" says Nik.

I was sort of surprised how few people there were in the Octagon for a New Year's Eve. But as it got closer to midnight, more and more drunk college students began showing up.

Besides Superman there, there was also Wonder Woman. However, she wasn't as wonderful from the front as she was from the back

3, 2, 1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Yipee! Can we go to bed now?

Water

2012-01-05T18:26:00.001-08:00

We've had the privilege to sample Milton's water twice. Once out of ignorance, and once by memory lapse. It tastes like someone washed their socks in it.

Fun Kiwi Fact

2012-01-05T18:16:00.001-08:00

All electrical outlets here are individually switch controlled; even appliances. Many's a time when I've cursed the slow warming stove top, or lamp with a "burned out light bulb" just to find I hadn't switched them on. I've even seen outlets that have a switch to switch on the switches!

Death With A Sense Of Humor

2012-01-05T17:49:00.000-08:00

New Zealand is a country roughly the size of Colorado with a population of around four million; a great many of whom live in the metropolitan areas of Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, Dunedin and Invercargill. Nonetheless, they manage an annual highway death toll rate of one a day; give or take. In fact, we were almost killed twice within ten kilometers the day before yesterday by idiots trying to pass 47 cars on a 100 meter stretch of straight road; never mind that that stretch was either on a hill or around a corner. The second one was so close that I seriously considered turning around and chasing the guy down. I had just filled the tank, had no appointments and a good tire iron.

I can count the number of police cars that we have seen on the open highway on two hands. Because of this Canterbury uses a little humor to get the message across:

Penguins

2012-01-04T17:55:00.001-08:00

A few kilometers south of Moeraki is Point Kartiki. Here there is a yellow-eyed penguin colony. Can I get out of this one? Not a chance.

The DoC goes on and on about how shy these little guys are and how you have to go to great lengths to hide yourself from them so as not to disrupt them.

This guy is in the bushes right next to the car park. You can see how worked up and panicked he got when I took his picture...from ten feet!

Anyways, there's a trail (steep one...knees, remember?) down the cliff-side to a duck blind they call a "penguin hide". The first time I saw the term I thought maybe they were selling little penguin rugs or something.

Another example of the shy penguin

Just trundling across the ol' hay field. Probably about 300' vertical from the beach.

Like I was saying, at the bottom of the hill there is a little shack that you can go into. It has hinged windows that you can open up, and courtesy binoculars attached to log chains with typically one or both oculars missing. Cynthia decided to run back up the hill and retrieve hers, while I proceeded to snap away.

Oh yeah, penguins...

Hey baby, how was your day?

Hey honey, have you ever met my secretary Bambi?
I was thinking that maybe we could all...well...you know...

WHAT!? Are you out of your mind? Get that bimbo outta here!

Geez...she doesn't have to get personal...sniff

Two can play at this game..."honey, have you met Bob, my Manager?"

I don't think anyone's following...

Man, I thought the chicks would be all over this Maori arm band...

And the king of the beach remains!

Not sure what all was worked out with Bob, Ted, Carol and Bambi, but I spotted them later in the woods!

Dora the Explora

Moeraki

2012-01-02T23:38:00.000-08:00

We were going to be meeting our friends in Dunedin to ring in the new year. So in studying the map I realized that there was only a short stretch of shore highway between Dunedin and Moeraki that kept us from being able to make the claim that we had driven every mile of coastal highway on the South Island. That could not stand. So we decided that our next course of action would be to drive from Gore, through Dunedin and on up the highway to Moeraki. We had made it as far as Moeraki on a previous trip, but from the north. Now to bridge the gap.

Moeraki has a few things going for it; the Moeraki Boulders, yellow eyed penguins and Fleur's Place. We wanted to see all three, so we booked in to a B&B (first/last one for us), it was the only place available (holiday season Dec 25 through Jan).

The Moeraki Boulders
On the beach just north of the village of Moeraki reside the Moeraki boulders. These are incredible huge spherical boulders lying on the beach. The only place in New Zealand that this takes place; maybe the world, I don't know. If you ask a kiwi what they are and where they come from, the answer is always "Nobody knows. Not even the scientists. Maybe space". Bet I can find out.

The Maori Explanation:
The people of the area relate the Moeraki Boulders to the wreck of the great canoe Arai Te Uru. As it was traveling south, the canoe foundered in a storm near Matakaea. Its cargo was washed up on the nearby beaches - the round food baskets and water gourds are the boulders, while the seed kumara are the irregularly shaped boulders further south.

The geologists explanation:
The Moeraki Boulders are septarian concretions. Concretions are hard masses which form in sedimentary rocks. They range in size from small pellets to huge spherical bodies. Some of the Moeraki Boulders are over 2 meters (6 feet) in diameter.

Small amounts of the cementing materials are dissolved in sea water. During the deposition of sediment on the ocean floor, sea water becomes trapped between the sedimentary particles. Decaying organic matter in the sediment, such as shell, bone or plant fragments acts as a nucleus around which the concretionary materials gradually crystallize. The chemical components in the wet sediment migrate toward the nucleus and continue to collect around it until conditions change or the supply runs out. This takes place slowly over thousands or millions of years. If the crystallization of minerals proceeds equally in all directions from the nucleus, the concretion grows in a spherical shape; otherwise a flat or irregular shape occurs.

These concretions were contained in the mudstone cliffs, and as the cliffs eroded, the concretions were left behind.

Can you guess which explanation is my favorite?

Probably not what they had in mind when asked if they'd like to go for a boat ride.

Fleur's Place
Fleur's Place is a restaurant that has a rumble-tumble look about it, but this stylish timber hut serves up some of the South Island's best food. The specialty is seafood, fresh off the boats that are moored only feet away, and it's equally popular among locals for an evening drink and occasional live music. Head for the upstairs deck and smell the ocean while you tuck into fresh chowder, tender mutton bird, or whatever fish the boats caught last night. Sounds great, doesn't it? Keeping in tradition with our typical luck, Fleur decided this would be her first year to close up for the holidays. I would have been stunned if our luck had been otherwise.

Loganburn

2012-01-01T00:58:00.000-08:00

After leaving Dunedin we headed for a place called Loganburn reservoir. Loganburn is northwest of Dunedin in the high tussock country. It is a beautiful and peaceful place, and you can drive across the tussock to the shore as long as you don't find a mud bog. We steered clear of those and were able to make our way to the shoreline where we set up camp.

And as the sun slowly sets, Cynthia slips into a coma...

From my Nikon Space Telescope

Some time in the middle of the night I hear "Chuck, Chuck...I think the water is getting closer!"

I'm pretty sure that the tide isn't coming in. As it turns out, one of the infamous Nor'westers came up during the night and the placid waters were now breaking on the shore. "Don't be ridiculous...go back to sleep!" After I heard the heavy breathing I secretly opened the door to the tent and scoped things out with my torch.

The next day was beautiful except for the 30 mph winds, so we decided to see if we could find Lake Onslow through the back door. What a disappointment. As open as Loganburn was, Lake Onslow was closed. It is surrounded by farmland so the whole thing is fenced in. There's only one place for public access. Because of that, I'm boycotting the lake so no pictures!

The beauty of being the driver. There was probably 20 of these between Loganburn and Onslow

Tapanui Police Department

Waikaia is home to the Waikaia Museum and Bottle. The giant bottle is constructed with more than 20,000 Australian wine bottles

Since I had had such a great fishing day on the Waikaia river, we decided to try it again. Remember how it was last time? With not another soul around? Enter Christmas holidays. When we drove up there this time there were cars, trucks, ATVs, caravans, motorcycles roaring up and down the roads. The bushes had been tromped flat on both sides of the river by fishermen. The first time we were there I either spooked or spotted at least 25 fish. This time I saw 3.

Back to Gore.

Fun Kiwi Fact

2011-12-31T14:41:00.001-08:00

Kiwi toilets have two speeds; half for those light days and full for the big jobs.

Sigmund Freud Would Have A Field Day Here

2011-12-30T16:30:00.001-08:00

Funny Thing I Saw Today

2011-12-30T15:05:00.000-08:00

I'm still looking for the Bush-Cheney Presidential Weapons Depot

Mutton Pie? Not So Much

2011-12-30T15:03:00.000-08:00

I made it half way through, but when I felt it threaten to come back up on me I had to admit defeat...

Fun Kiwi Fact

2011-12-30T14:20:00.001-08:00

In New Zealand it is not illegal to drink and drive. It is, however, illegal to drive drunk.

Dunedin

2011-12-28T00:39:00.001-08:00

As a means of introduction to this entry I should point out that I am a bit of an old architecture fan, and since Dunedin has some of the greatest old buildings, there are lots of pictures of same. So, since most of you probably only view my pictures on the 2 inch screen on your phone anyway, they should be easy to scroll through!

After our exhilarating visit to Milton we jetted straight to Dunedin. The center of the universe here is the Octagon. As the name implies, it is an octagonal shaped plaza festooned with bars and shops and cafe's, et al. When we were shopping around online for the best place to stay I picked the 97 Motel Moray on Moray Place. Moray Place is an octagonal road that is displaced by about 2 blocks from the official "Octagon" and as such the closest accommodations to the Octagon. Thanks to google maps' street view you can "see" the place a bit before commiting. This is the view of the building used in the "online brochure". The actual main building is next door and does not have the same curb appeal.

It's a bit shabby looking and needs a bit of TLC but the rooms are cheap (about $80 USD) and the location can't be beat. It's not often that one gets pleasantly surprised. This is one of them. The room is one of the nicest we've been in and the staff are wonderful (listen to me sound like a Brit). They left a box of Christmas cookies and candy canes on our bed.

We set out on a brief foray afield, me doing my best Frankenstein walking impersonation and was immediately accosted by architectural eye-candy, to wit:

This stately building is actually a strip club

Soon it was time to crawl back to the room for another icing session. Here's a great tip for anyone needing ice bags but is annoyed by the fact that they melt: frozen peas. Built in form-fitting sealed container and reusable!

The next morning we headed down to the Octagon for breakfast.

We chose an Irish Pub. I selected this place mainly for the fact that it had black pudding and haggis on the menu. Haggis is a dish containing sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally simmered in the animal's stomach for approximately three hours. So obviously you can see why I was eager to try it. This is traditionally a Scottish dish; not sure why it's served in an Irish pub.

I'm pretty sure that I still haven't had black pudding or haggis. When my breakfast came there were four miniature black hockey pucks, and something that looked like a slice of overcooked canned cat food. I had to use my knife on both in order to rip off a piece small enough to chew. Mmm, mmm, good.

Fer cryin' out load!

You can't turn the fracking thing off for even the length of a meal? We watched these two for our entire meal. Cynthia says she thinks she saw the old lady say something but isn't sure. As long as we were sitting there, neither took their face out of their phones. Sheesh...

Can't blame it all on the techies. These people ignored each other while texting too (receive only)

If sparrows/chickadees are flying mice, these must be flying rats

Looking down Stuart Street

Center of the Octagon

What are you lookin' at? Don't Santa wear shorts where yer from? Friggin' foreigners...

This is the Dunedin Railway Station. The most photographed building in NZ

This guy in the dress thought I was taking a picture of him. Guess he doesn't know how much I like chocolate

She understands things a lot better if you write them down for her

Old ticket window in the rail station

Ok, here's the story. Right next to the train station there was a big "farmer's" market (more like a rummage sale). This little guy was performing as a street musician. At this moment he's belting out Elvis' version of "blue Suede Shoes". I didn't have the heart to tell him that the only famous ukulele player I've ever heard of is Tiny Tim (some of you aren't old enough to get this).

Anyway, we exited the throng and as we were walking back past on the sidewalk I saw him getting the bum's rush. I guess he must have been performing without a license in the market. See, now the guy in the dress was smart enough not to do that.

This is about Dec. 23 and we are thinking about what we are going to do for a Christmas dinner since they almost roll the streets up (outside the Octagon) in the evening:

View looking south on Princes street (main road through the Octagon) 5 PM Saturday

View looking north on Princes street (main road through the Octagon) 5 PM Saturday

Kiwis take their holidays very seriously here. There is likely to be virtually nothing open on Christmas day. I ask around and am told that there are a few places that will be open. There are 4 cruise ships to be docked in the harbor. They are expecting about 5000 people in the CBD and nothing open. The local news paper polled businesses to find out which will be open and published a list. I could have counted them on two hands. The couple places that we found that were having a Christmas dinner (buffet) were a bit too festive for us ($109 per each) and/or fully booked. Instead we went out for a nice steak Christmas Eve and had left over Thai for Christmas.

Hint to guys: I was able to use my knee problem to get out of an art gallery outing.

The Chinese Garden

They have a beautiful Chinese garden here. Not sure why since the Chinese population is about 4500 out of 150,000. They pre-assembled this entire garden in China and shipped it over here. They had to sandblast all the rocks and sterilize everything before they could get it through Customs Bio-hazard section. Anyway...

What? You thought I wouldn't take pictures on the way?

Find Waldo

The ubiquitous New Zealand seagull

After the Chinese garden we headed generally in the direction of our room. We decided that we needed to stop and have a beer when I spotted a pub (they're so rare around here):

The Duke of Wellington: Purveyors of Fine Ales

We walked in and asked that they purvey to us some fine ale. All they had was British beer. The place was beautiful. And what was better, is we were the only customers!

When Cynthia was about 1/3 of the way through her fine ale she suddenly realized that she didn't have her day pack. The one that she usually carried our passports and US cash in. She got this deer-in-the-headlights look. I said "You better go find it, while I enjoy my fine ale" (knee trouble you know).

After she tears out the door I start talking to the proprietor and mention the day pack. He says that she'll get it back..."no problem. Maybe not in some other town, but this town...she'll get it back". A few minutes later she comes panting through the door with the pack on her back.

Some queen-looking person

Don't know who he is, but he looks drunk

While I stayed in to work on this blog Cynthia went for a long, long walk. She came back with these great pictures:

The next morning we got up and left town. The end.

December 21 - The Catlins

2011-12-24T17:49:00.000-08:00

After being laid up in Invercargill for two days I decided that I could limp along to the truck and head on down the road (against the wishes of the medical expert I'm married to). We decided to travel through an area of the country called "The Catlins".

I didn't have the slightest idea what a Catlin was, so being a person who likes to know stuff, I looked it up. Since there is not a lot of money to be made off the Catlins, I couldn't find very much information online. So, pretending I wanted to spend money, I tricked Google into giving up some non-commercial information.

First inhabited by the Maori people in the period 900-1700 AD, the Catlins is an area with a rich history. Captain James Cook sighted the area in 1770, but it was not until the period 1810-1830 that whalers and sealers arrived in the Catlins. The Catlins takes its name from Edward Cattlin, a ship's captain and whaler/trader who made a land claim in the district in 1840. Now why Edward had two "Ts" in his name but the region name doesn't is a mystery that I'm sure I'll never know the answer to, and is probably something they haven't even noticed here.

In the 1830's and 40's there was a feverish and destructive era of whaling on the Catlins coast. Within 10 years, the Right whales were eliminated by shore and ship based whalers. Some of these whalers married local Maori and their descendants live in the Catlins today.

The first settlement of land by Europeans took place in the mid 1850's. Settlers arrived primarily to mill trees, the first mill being in operation around 1865. Nine timber mills were operating near the Catlins and Owaka Rivers by the 1880's. In 1877, 107 ships sailed from the Catlins area loaded with timber bound for house building in Dunedin and Christchurch. During the 1870's and 1880's many settlers took up land for farming. The farms were only 50-200 acres and bought with state assistance. In the early 1900's, farms became larger and freehold. Since the end of the sawmilling era, the Catlins district has relied on farming as its mainstay. However, the area has now become "trendy" because of its heretofore unspoiled (or unspoilt in kiwi) nature and has seen a significant rise in tourist interest in the last several years. I guess I can see why. It's an incredibly beautiful place.

It's not too hard to figure out the predominant wind direction here

We set out along the coast as best we could (the main highway is more inland) and made what appears to be the usual stops. Unfortunately I forgot my wheel chair at home, and am not old enough to qualify for a free Hover-round through medicare so we didn't venture too far from the truck. We were able to find life-giving ice cream at Curio Bay.

We made a stop at Slope Point which is the southernmost point of land on the South Island.

I was being very careful not to do a Joe Cocker over the side

We saw a pretty funny thing. Straight below us over the cliff we spotted a seal leisurely swimming along when it got attacked by a gull.

It was probably an easy 200 feet to the water, but I was using a 300 mm lens here

We figured out that there must be a nest in the cliffs somewhere because next she was after me:

...moving on

Curio Bay - there is a sunken petrified forest near here

Porpoise Bay

Some rock...I forget

After deciding that we couldn't handle all the people at Curio Bay, and seeing that there were none of the Hector Dolphins that they are famous for hanging around, we had a bite of lunch in the park at Waikawa and continued on. Ever eager to get me iced up, Cynthia decided we were stopping for the night. She picked the "McLean Falls Motels and Eco-tourism Holiday Park". Not exactly your standard kiwi-sounding accommodations. It sounded like a gay hippy commune to me. When we checked in the mystery was solved. The place was owned by a woman from San Francisco. It did have a decidedly American ambiance with the "Whistling Frog Cafe'". They even had quesadillas on the menu ($42).

We looked into the options. They had a "kiwiana" cabin for $90. This was roughly the size of a small tool shed. We opted for the Motel ensuite room for $135. We had to use the communal kitchen reserved for the ensuite gang. It was very nice.

The rooms were very American. Could have been in San Diego. Nicely decorated with trendy stuff, comfortable bed, and the cheapest industrial grade toilet paper money could buy. Even had one of those plastic lockable anti-theft TP vaults. Yep, feels like home. The walls were so thin and uninsulated that I could hear Cynthia doing the dishes in the kitchen which was 3 rooms down. I could feel every drawer or cabinet close with my head leaned against the wall.

Everyone we talked to told us if we were going through the Catlins we just have to see Purakaunui Falls. It's a must stop! Well it's about a 12 kilometer detour off the main road, and when we got there there was the standard campervan platoon in the car park. I used my gimp legs to beg out of this one so Cynthia went down to take a picture or two.

Remember the old Crocodile Dundee movie from the 80s (I think) where he goes to New York chasing that skirt? Remember the scene where the (race omitted) mugger pulls a knife on him, which produces the classic line "You call that a knife? That's not a knife, now this is a knife" Well...

That's not a falls...

Now this is a falls! Some of you Puget Sounders may recognize this from their famous pancake mix

We again headed down the road...

Cynthia picked a winner (neglecting the sandflies) when she found the Piano Flat campground on the Waikaia river. She studies the map and finds campgrounds that are on or near rivers. She found another one way up the Catlins river so we decided to go have a look. I may have mentioned something last trip about how NZ campgrounds work. They will have a maximum number of "campsites" but nothing defines the boundary or location of a campsite. It looks something like this:

This particular campground had 53 campsites. It also boasted the following amenities:

(2) picnic tables
(2) "long drop" toilets
(1) water spigot

It didn't matter. We wouldn't be camping there anyways because:
(a) I couldn't walk
(2) The river is tea-stained (tannins) and you can't sight fish

We decided to follow the forest road along the river anyway since my "Bible" said that the water around Frank's Creek was worth a look. This road was amazing. We'd go about a mile and the road would split and there would be regular street signs (all shot to pieces) naming all these one-lane dirt roads that went all over back there. We got lost 3 or 4 times but finally found the river again and got out to where I could see the sun so I could navigate.

I didn't notice this sign until I was done playing on their bridge

Well, by and by we made our way out to Owaka. Owaka is a bustling metropolis of about 400. That's where we stumbled upon the lamb tongues. There were a few other interesting features of Owaka.

And last but not least...

WTF?

Well, we availed ourselves of our daily TipTop and headed on down the road toward Milton where we spent the night.

Cool Milton church:

Continuing on to Dunedin...

A Funny Thing I Saw Today

2011-12-23T23:30:00.001-08:00

What a relief! I just hate peeling those!

December 17 - Stewart Island

2011-12-19T20:45:00.001-08:00

Notice to North Americans: Wherever I say "tramp" insert "hike". Wherever I say "track" insert "trail".

Stewart Island is a large island laying off the south tip of the South Island. It was slated as one of Cynthia's MUST DO items. Compliance is compulsory. She had her eye particularly fixed on one of New Zealands "Great Walks" called the Rakiura Track. It is a 38 kilometer loop intended to be done in three 12k +/- legs.

There is a one hour ferry ride from Bluff over to Oban, the only tiny spec of a town on the island. The rest of the island is reserved for masochists or smart people with boats. It's also one of the places that there is a better than average chance of seeing an actual kiwi in the wild. Not one of those "I'm not a kiwi, I just play one for the tourists" kind where you pay to go out with a "guide" who will show you how to use a flashlight, er, sorry, torch.

This is also one of the tracks where you have to book in advance to keep the hordes at a manageable level, and to insure that you have paid for the facilities that you intend to use, i.e. campsites or huts. We still don't get the hut thing so for us it was full-on camping.

Once you get there there is a lovely little jaunt of 6 kilometers, on foot, by road (I was forbidden to call a cab for this part) to get to the start point.

Ferry terminal

Almost the best scenery of the entire "tramp" is the part by road. Once you get on the track it goes like this:

Scenery: Day 1

Scenery: Day 2

Scenery: Day 3

Day 3 scenery: Supplemental

Anyway, we started out from the DoC center in a nice light drizzle for our trek to the starting point.

Still on the road, mind you

I tried to swerve in here but was cut off

Someone's idea of a sick joke

This nice bench was at the top of a hill along the road about 5k from town. It even has a nice phone and phonebook so you can call for a shuttle.

I quickly ran over just to find that the wire was a dummy just strung into the woods

More terrible road scenery

Check out the name - it says it all!

Yippee! We get to start now!

Day 1 track

Day 3 track

The track starts out real nice. There's even some great coastal scenery. This is where we came across the first "cheaters". There are people who throw on the old tennies, strap a kid or two on and trek on down the path...to the water taxi pick-up. They go home, have a nice dinner, maybe catch a Broadway show, then the next day they have the water taxi drop them off where they were picked up the day before and it's off to pick-up location 2. You get the idea. At the end they can tell all their friends how they did the Rakiura Track.

More of that great Day 1 track

Maori Beach: where we should have camped the first night

Do seagulls walk pigeon-toed?

Continuing on to the place we actually camped. It only added 2 hours to the tramp!

Finally. After only 8.5 miles we get to stop.

Funny little Oyster Catcher

Funny little Oyster Catcher that tried to take the top of my head off.

Reason the funny little Oyster Catcher tried to take the top of my head off.
We made friends though. I later built her a fortress around her stash.

Ok. End of leg one. Not feeling too bad. Still thinking about the motel, but I might survive this.
As I mentioned earlier, we opt for the camp site instead of the hut. Not too bad of a spot, and no one else around.

Nestled out of the wind

Cook shack

Before we had "dinner" we took a walk over to see what the hut looked like. They seem to like to separate the camp sites from the hut so that none of those filthy "campers" can sit on a hut seat or look out a hut window without they paid up the proper hut money. We did run into the hut mom who axed us if we had paid up. We said we wuz campers and fergot our papers back to the tent. She said she would wander over directly. Actually, she was a nice young girl DoC volunteer from the UK and we had her sit a spell back to the tent when she shewed up.

She gave us a hot kiwi spotting tip. She told us that a 10:30 every night, a kiwi or two would walk out from behind the cook shack, and if you stood real still, they would sometimes come up and sniff your foot, since they can't see very well. Ok, now that's cool. We really wanted to see a kiwi in the wild. So, Cynthia made a herculean effort to stay awake and stare at that spot. While we are staring at the spot, a couple other people came up and whispered "did you see any yet?"

Then another couple. Then two guys from Belgium, then a few more...and finally the DoC girl. Ok, so now there's like about ten people standing in the dark, whispering, and staring at the faint place where the kiwis are going to come out. And whispering. And staring.

I'm not really sure what they thought was going to happen. Did they think that a little trail (don't insert track here) of kiwis was going to sneak out? It was almost pitch black. Were the kiwis going to sneak out with little miner's helmets on with their little lights switched on? Maybe the kiwis will have red lenses on their lights (humans can't see red light you know). We went to bed.

The next morning we were up and running a bit later than usual. Cynthia had stayed up way past her bed time. After a nice sack of rehydrated breakfast (which looked more like a dog's dinner) we set off on leg two of the journey. So far, not too bad. I just might survive this. We were cautioned that this day would be just a bit harder as we had to climb over the mountains.

Left over logging relics

Oops! What happened to the nice track?

We were now about half way through the second day. You know, as far as you can get from either end of the tramp. That's when I slipped on a root and heard/felt this nice crunch in my right knee. I had dislocated this knee back in the 70's and when the doctor patched me up he told me that I might have trouble with it when I got in my fifties. Hmmm...let's see, divide by six, carry the one...oh crap! I'm in my fifties!

Well, not much you can do but soldier on. By the time we made it to the end of day 2 I was looking for my flare gun. I ate half the pain killers that we accidentally had in our first aid kit. I was saving the other half for breakfast.

Day three. Only about 8 miles to go. I swallowed the rest of the first aid kit with a little hot coffee and we set off down the trail. A little while later the Belgians passed us. Then the Germans from the hut. It was not looking good. The track had gotten absolutely miserable.

I couldn't put much weight on my right leg. After a couple hours of favoring the right leg, I couldn't put much weight on the left one either. Things were not looking good. We were averaging just a little over 1 kph. We had 12 to go. Going downhill was the worst. In some places I could only go down hill by turning around and backing down. The smart thing to have done would have been to tramp over to the hut at the second day and have Ranger Rick arrange for a water taxi. I've never been accused of being smart. It didn't help that some ass had marked the distance from the hut every 10 meters on the trail. I kept looking at my GPS. Only 8 more to go...only 7.9 more to go...only...

Kaka (parrot)

When we had made it 5 of the excruciating kilometers, I was making plans for Cynthia to hike out with her pack and leave me for the night, come back the next morning and carry mine out and I'd see if I could crawl out. About that time a couple things happened. One, I licked the remaining crumbs out of the first aid kit and two, the trail suddenly got a whole lot better. There was nothing for it but to just go. When I passed the DoC center I had to ask a kid to go hand in my trip completion report because I knew if I stopped, I couldn't get going again. I made it to the ferry. By the time we got back to the "mainland" I couldn't hardly walk again.

This morning I woke up and both knees were about the size of cantaloupes. I slammed some ibuprofen and made it to the car. I could drive but I couldn't hardly get in or out. When I could, I looked like Joe Cocker walking. We had just gotten into the Catlins when I realized that this is stupid. So, here I sit. Looks like I'll be holed up in some motel somewhere with dueling ice packs.

December 15 - The Worlds Fastest Indian

2011-12-15T22:41:00.000-08:00

With all the wading that we have been doing, Cynthia's hiking pants with the zip-off legs have gotten a serious case of droopy-drawers. Despite the fact that Gore is "The Brown trout fishing capital of the world" they had no pants matching the demanding specifications required. We had no doubt that Invercargill could meet the challenge.

After a successful pants acquisition mission I got to the real reason I wanted to come to Invercargill; The Worlds Fastest Indian. The creation of one Burt Monro. Burt is now dead, but the machine that fascinated the motorcycle racing community survives. E Hayes & Sons Ltd bought the Monro Special where it is on display in the middle of their hardware store, along with many other rare motorcycles. If you've never seen the movie The World's Fastest Indian then this probably won't make sense to you.

Burt Monro memorial

Burt Munro was born on the 25^th March 1899 at Edendale, a country town 30kms north of Invercargill.

In 1920 Burt bought his standard model Indian Scout motorcycle for $120.00. It had a 600cc side-valve engine and acetylene lighting. The Indian Scout was advanced for its time as it had a helical gear transmission, a mechanical oil pump working on a total loss system and a top speed of 60 mph. Burt started tuning the bike for speed, initially exceeding 90mph and, with further fine tuning, he gained the New Zealand Motorcycle speed record of 120.8 mph in 1940.

After overcoming numerous problems such as connecting rod and engine big-end failures, Burt eventually made alterations to the engine, fitted an Indian Chief oil pump, increased the bore and stroke which enlarged the engine to approximately 1000cc capacity, and changed the two cam system to a four cam. He also built four different streamline shells for the Indian Scout over the years.

On his first trip to the Bonneville Flats in August 1962 he achieved a speed of 179 mph which amazed the people attending; mainly because of the age of both the bike and the owner. In August 1967 Burt claimed the World Record Class S-A 1000cc with an average speed of 183.586 mph (one way 190.07mph), this record stands to this day.

After a partial stroke in 1977 which left him with a lack of coordination, Burt sold the Munro Special to Norman and Neville Hayes as he wanted it to remain in Southland.

This was the most successful combination of man and machine and to bring a machine originally designed for a top speed of 60mph to nearly 200mph is a remarkable achievement.

Burt died on the 6^th January 1978, aged 78.

On display:

Can you imagine sitting on this rickety machine at nearly 200 mph? The top of the frame is just 22 inches from the ground. For a great video clip go here.

Tomorrow we're off to Stewart Island for a 38 kilometer backpack.

December 13 - Gore

2011-12-15T22:05:00.000-08:00

After coming out from the Waikaia valley we just headed to Gore to lick our wounds, get caught up with the blog, do laundry and try to figure out where to go next.

This is Sgt. Dan, mascot of the cereal company; don't ask, don't tell

This is a sheep statue with large testicles.

Talk about government service...Mitre 10 is a hardware company like Lowes

Ok...decision made. We head to Invercargill for pants.

December 11 - Waikaia

2011-12-14T23:28:00.000-08:00

After an exciting Saturday night in Lumsden we headed east. Cynthia wanted to camp and had come up with a DoC campsite on a river. It looked good on paper, but just how many people would we have to contend with? I was almost positive I had sent a memo to Tourism New Zealand requesting that they keep everyone out of the woods while we are here.

We were headed for a place called Piano Flat on the Waikaia river. We drove out of the Mataura river valley and into the Waikaia river valley. It's hard to describe but the Waikaia valley is like something out of a painting. It was beautiful. Green and pastoral. Lots of sheep but the pastures weren't eaten down to the dirt like so many places.

There's actually a small town of Waikaia. We took a short detour to have a look, and it was TipTop time anyway. We had a nice chat with the ice cream lady. When we told her where we were going she just said "hope you've got your mozzy juice". We thought we did but ...

The campground was about 25k north of town. When got there I was shocked. There was not a soul around anywhere, and the place was awesome. We couldn't believe our good luck.

We had spent several hours earlier on the Mataura river and it was about 85 degrees and dusty. Just over the bank from the tent was the river. It was cool and clear and close. Time to blow off a little dust.

Bathing suit? We don't need no stinking bathing suit!

After a fantastic dinner of Chicken Tikka Masala and a bit of the grape we were enjoying the evening. Enter the New Zealand Sandfly (literally).

If you get bitten by tiny black flies it is likely that you have been the victim of what New Zealanders call sandflies. Sandflies, like mosquitoes and other flies, are members of the order Diptera, and belong to the family Simuliidae. Similar species found elsewhere are called blackflies.

There are 13 species in New Zealand. Only two species bite: the New Zealand blackfly and the West Coast blackfly. At only 2–3 millimetres in length, they look the same to the naked eye.

Sandflies are found wherever there is flowing water and bush. They are often found at beaches, and at the edges of lakes or swamps. The New Zealand blackfly occurs in the North Island and around the coasts of the South Island. The West Coast blackfly is confined to the South Island, where it is a nuisance. The West Coast and Fiordland are infamous for their sandflies. The terminus of the Milford Track, where hikers board the ferry to Milford Sound, is called Sandfly Point.

While surveying Doubtful Sound in the summer of 1851, Captain John Lort Stokes of the Acheron was tempted but resisted putting the names Venom Point, Sandfly Bay and Bloodsuckers Sound on the map, after encounters with the biting insects. Road builders on the Milford Road and Haast Pass suffered clouds of them. While surveying road routes near Haast in the 1930s, Alan Dawber played a game with his mates: ‘We used to compete with each other by baring our forearm to the sandflies, then when the first one made its presence felt, we would start killing them off one by one. I think the record was 64 before wiping the stinging mass clear.’

The first instance of the word sandfly (rather than blackfly) for the New Zealand species is in the journal of James Cook. He came across the insects at Fiordland’s Dusky Sound, possibly at a sandy beach, in May 1773. His journal reads: ‘The most mischievous animal here is the small black sandfly which are exceedingly numerous … wherever they light they cause a swelling and such intolerable itching that it is not possible to refrain from scratching and at last ends in ulcers like the small Pox.’

After mating, the female searches for a meal of blood – needed to produce eggs. (Little is known about the male, who is a vegetarian.) Females attack vertebrates such as penguins and other birds, bats, seals, domestic animals and humans. They pierce the skin, creating a drop of blood that they suck up. It is the histamine that they inject as an anti-coagulant that causes the itch.

This was not our first encounter with the despised insect. Unlike so many others, we had not had any trouble with them at all on the coast. However, now we understood why the ice cream lady asked about our "mozzy juice", This, in essence, is why I packed the notorious bottle of DEET.

Cynthia dumped a bunch of Shekels on some hippy cream that smells like citronella candles and patchouli oil. Like most things wholesome and organic, the crap doesn't work. I tried buying some spray-on repellant which used an active ingredient I'd never heard of which specifically stated that it was good for sandflies. It wasn't.

I think that there should be a FDA required procedure that must be performed before any company can make any claims to the effectiveness of their insect repellent. It should be a requirement that the CEO of the corporation be shut up in a tank and have the subject species of insect injected into the tank. I'm guessing that choosing a product on the store shelf would be much easier. Funny thing. We were at an iSite today talking to one of the advisors about an upcoming trip. She said the best product she's found is pretty hard to find but works great. It's called OFF! Cynthia and I just smiled at each other. I digress.

So, while C slathered herself with holistic goodness, I doused myself with Bushman's 80% DEET.

View of the villains through the tent rainfly

At least they go away when it gets dark

Up bright and early, getting fully suited up in our hazmat gear before setting foot outside the tent, and getting on with the chore of breakfast. Today's menu: Eggs on toast with chorizo sausage:

You never have to ring the dinner bell twice for Cynthia

Cynthia manages to score a $1.43 million prototype of Bill Gates newest aid to Africa design
Time to get to work

Now if I was a trout...which one of these would I eat?

Small enough to eat, but too pretty to keep

After a hard day at the office, we head back to the barn

You know, just because you're camping doesn't mean that you can't enjoy haute' cuisine. It will be tough to beat last night's chicken tikka masala, but for tonight it's lamb fettuccine. You bring the boiling water.

It's fender-lickin' good!

We thought we might get a light show but all it did was increase the humidity enough to really get the bugs jumpin'

Sometimes you see the weirdest things here. Like this ladder stuck in the ground in the middle of nowhere:

Stairway to Heaven?

Tire planter complete with artificial flowers

Up with the sun...Back to the grind

There's got to be a fish here somewhere...

Yep, there is...

Ambush from his blind side...

So long, pard...

We had another nice blood draw night and headed out the next morning.

Belated slow motion stampede. It's hilarious to watch the dogs. Talk about loving your job!

Alas, an Inconvenient Truth

The Nevis Valley

2011-12-13T19:12:00.000-08:00

The World Wide Web puts a wealth of information right at your fingertips. That is, as long as that wealth is regarding wealth. It really gets frustrating when you try to find information of a factual or historical nature that doesn't involve giving someone your money. Such is the case with the Nevis River Valley. Google it and you get page after page of Queenstown this and Queenstown that...bungy this and jet boat that. Come drive 4X4s, motorcycle, helicopters...even sniff the flowers. For a fee. Nothing about the historical significance of the mining that took place there, or the harsh lives that the people who lived there had led. Aw, who am I kidding? I came for the fish.

I've read a bit about the Nevis river regarding the excellent fly fishing venue that it is. Plus it is in one of the many sections of New Zealand where there just aren't any roads. You look at a map of this country and there are huge patches where roads go all around them, but not through them. So, we ended up taking two days to get to a place that's about an hour from Queenstown...in the opposite direction of The Plan. After picking up a 50 pound bag of Tums (ref: Thai lunch) and asking for general directions out of town we headed "that-a-way". After about 12 k we found the Nevis road. It was a gravel road (metalled) and started uphill immediately. And uphill, and uphill, and uphill. The views were remarkable. We kept driving on this narrow winding road that no way could two cars pass each other on. We were hoping for the best. After a while we started to wonder if we were on the right road. So we stopped and I pulled out my South Island Bible (South Island Trout Fishing Guide by John Kent) to wit: "This is a gravel road that climbs high over barren mountains before descending into the Nevis valley". Right. Then that means we still have to make it to the top, so that we can go to the bottom, so that we can go to the top.

After descending into the Nevis Valley via roads as nail-biting as those going up, we crossed at, of all places, Nevis Crossing. Below this point there is a huge gorge that drops into the Kawarau river.

Currently there is a big fight between a power company that wants to dam the Nevis river, and the department of fish and wildlife and other river-friendly user groups. After having been there, you can sign us up on the dam opposition team. I am a bit confused though. Right at the crossing there is a big sign (that is repeated at intervals up the river) that states that a mining company has staked claim to the dredging rights from 250 meters downstream of the crossing to 25 kilometers upstream. Dredging isn't exactly river-friendly either.

Right at Nevis Crossing there is a big sheep station which comprises the lot for the entire valley as far as human habitation is concerned. There are a few ramshackle historic buildings and a couple of what I take to be baches, but no other dwellings.

Eight kilometers upstream (south) of the Crossing was "The Township". In 1874, to make things more convenient, they decided to build the schoolhouse in the middle, so that none of the children had to walk more than 4 kilometers to school. Could you imagine trying to make kids these days walk that far to school? Sure, they'll walk 4k to the mall, but to school? You'd have Child Protective Services at your door. Not much left of the township.

This was a hotel

This is what remains of the bakery for the hotel

You know it must get cold in the winter when a building this small needs two fireplaces

Gold was discovered here in the 1850s. At its height in 1866 there were over 600 residents here. By the late 1860s the Chinese population outnumbered the Europeans. It is believed that there could have been as many as 500 Chinese working the lower Nevis area. The Chinese had their own store and opium dens. The numbers of Chinese slowly dwindled and it is likely that the last of the Chinese left the Nevis in the 1890. Actually, we did some exploring and thought we had maybe found some old Chinaman bones.

But after thorough investigation it turned out to be Ol' Bessy who went missing in the winter of '06

In the midst of all this CSI work we did manage to spend some time on the river. The river drains the swampy headlands above so it takes a long time to clear and come down after a major rain. There had been just such a rain not long before, but we had it on good authority from some folks back in Cromwell that the river at least shouldn't be "blown out", and should be pretty clear. Well, it was clear but it looked to be still pretty high when we could see green grass about two feet under water. Needless to say, I didn't get any fish that day.

I had asked at the iSite in Cromwell and found that this was DoC land so we decided to camp out that night. I found a nice looking spot not too far off the road and established Nevis Base 1.

I couldn't believe it when the spousal unit told me that she had never slept out under the stars without the comfort of sheet tin (motorhome, trailer, etc.) between her and the night. Well, we had to fix that! The beauty is that you don't even have to worry about hanging your food here...no bears!

The bedroom

Nothing pairs better with a fine Pinot than ham and cheese sandwiches

Evening sets in. All that purdy sand color is from the hydraulics used to sluice down the hillside back in the day.

I've come to the conclusion that there must be sentry sheep. Way up on the hillside a lone sheep seemed to be quite intent on the goings-on down our way.

via telephoto

He watched us intently non-stop for over an hour. Then he was joined by another who watched us for a long time. Then a third. Then a fourth. It was creepy. I felt like there was going to be an indian charge any minute.

This place is spectacular. Solitary and remote. Sort of lonely. Just the way we like it. Imagine my disgust when a crappervan (one of the orange ones from space) cruised up the road and came to a stop right opposite the turn-off to our compound. I was incredulous! I gave him my best "just keep on movin' buddy" stare and he slowly moved off. A short while later he was back! I thought I was going to have to break out my best German; Achtung! Verboten! But again, after a brief stop he moved on. It wasn't until the next morning when we were leaving that I discovered that there was small stream running across the road which he had to stop for both directions.

Unlike General Custer, for us the morning dawned bright. No hostile sheep charge.

The next morning we decided to see what was up the road, and headed for the upper gorge. We were given pause:

Now ordinarily this wouldn't slow me down but we were in a borrowed vehicle. We decided that we would turn back at the first questionable obstacle. The upper valley was even more beautiful than the lower.

The upper gorge - looking downstream

My gun-bearer

On the prowl...

We came across this great little comfort station:

More upper Nevis:

Goofy little birds called Oyster Catchers (don't ask me)

Our usual routine is to drive to a stretch of river, hike over to it, fish upstream for a couple miles, hike back out to the road and hoof it back to the vehicle. At one point when we were on the river and walking along, we noticed a truck (the only other vehicle we'd seen that day) slow to a crawl on the road and look us over.

When we had hit the end of our fishing patience for the day (I had fished to a single nymphing fish for almost an hour before giving up) we made our way back out to the road for the unpleasant trudge back. We were moving along when from the other direction, in a plume of dust, comes the rig we had seen earlier.

The driver slows down and stops. There's two of them in the truck; two fly rods. "Well, you just beat us to the pool" says the driver, grin on his face. "Did you see him?" "Yeah, I saw him" I said. "Did you catch him?" he asked. "Couldn't even get close. Down too deep." I replied. "We caught him once last year. Big son of a bitch. Weighed 11 1/2 pounds last year". There's this funny little kiwi head nod they do. He gave me one of those, waved and put the truck in gear and sped off down the road. Hard to compete with the locals who know every fish in every pool.

A dredging pond

And now for the harrowing drive out. It was now closer to continue on to Garston at the far end of the valley than it was to turn around and head the 60 odd kilometers back to Cromwell. We were greatly concerned about the raging fords we would have to cross.

I didn't take pictures of the rest of the 25 because they were dried up. I make jokes, but this is definitely not a place you'd want to be during or shortly after a heavy rain. You could be stuck between fords for a week.

Nearly to the top on the Garston end

At the top looking into the Mataura valley above Garston

Start of the road on the Garston end

Since we had made it all the way from the Brannochburn Pub to the Garston Pub we needed to celebrate with a beer. But first stop was the restrooms.

DVDs - $25

Ok, so we made it over. Now we needed to find a place to hole up for the night. We decided to head down to Lumsden. But Lumsden was closed. I know you don't get this joke. Lumsden is a town. We went to the Lumsden Motel. Not a car in the place and the office was deserted. We had seen a sign for a motorcamp down the road so we made for that. Not a car to be seen. Also deserted.

While at the Lumsden Motel I had seen a sign that said to pick up the phone and call if you needed anything. We needed anything. I called the number and got the proprietor on the other end. He explained that he had been called away on urgent business (I could hear a ball game in the background). He told me to go behind the counter in the reception area, grab a key to a room and he'd catch up the next day. So we did, and so he did.

A Funny Thing I Saw Today

2011-12-13T00:53:00.000-08:00

World Renowned Writer

2011-12-13T00:39:00.000-08:00

Google has this cool feature that lets me see how many page views my blog has gotten and where they were viewed from. So far this sad little tome has been read in the good ol' USA, Russia, Indonesia, Czech Republic, Germany, Hong Kong, New Zealand, Ecuador, Brazil, Guatamala, Spain, UK, Netherlands, Switzerland, Ukraine, South Africa, Argentina, Japan, France and Latvia (Latvia? Where the hell is that?). Pretty cool.

December 9 - Time to Vamoose

2011-12-12T23:48:00.000-08:00

After pushing the envelope of our welcome in Queenstown we decided to mosey on to our next unknown destination. Cynthia had a plan (as girls often do) and we went off in that direction. Her course was sort of figure eight shaped with a double back flip. We didn't make it very far before I sort of straightened the route out a little bit.

We headed east back to Cromwell. I wanted to visit a couple fly shops there since the only place in QT is run by a bunch of...well lets just say that you won't get out of there without leaving a pint of blood and your firstborn. For example, my stove that I brought is currently selling at REI for $90. QT price $214. Can you say monopoly?

But first, lunch. We decided on Thai. We had already eaten at the Thai restaurant we chose just a few days earlier. On that day I asked them how their "heat scale" went. "We have mild, medium, hot and Thai hot" she said. "Ooh...Thai hot. Gimme that one".

Well our meal came and it was totally lame (hot-wise) so I went up and complained. She said "wasn't there extra chili on the side?". "What? Those crumbs? I could snort that!" So she brings me a side of chili and I slathered it on in front of her. So there...all's well.

This time we ordered the exact same things except we switched; pad thai for her (hot) and green curry for me...Thai hot! It was a different girl this time when I ordered. "Thai hot" I says. She sort of checks my skin color out and says "Thai hot?" questioningly. "Thai hot".

I took that first loving bite and I thought my face was going to explode! It kind of reminded me of an ancient Roman torture I heard about where they pour molten gold down your throat. "How is it?" she asked. "Perfect" I wheezed. I was determined to devour every manly bite. Cynthia was giving me the kind of look you give someone who has just fallen down a flight of concrete stairs. "Want a bite?" I gasped. "No thanks".

Every time Cynthia reached for the water pitcher I shot her a dirty look. I wasn't going to give the Thai girl the satisfaction of having me beg for another pitcher of water. I did manage to finish, thank you very much, and I finished up Cynthia's 4-star pad thai as well. It was like eating a York peppermint patty by comparison.

December 4 - The Caples River

2011-12-08T01:26:00.000-08:00

Queenstown Ducklings

2011-12-06T21:50:00.001-08:00

December 1 - The Last Room In Twizel

2011-12-06T14:48:00.000-08:00

We made it into Twizel in the late afternoon and started looking for a room. Now this was the fourth time that we have been through Twizel (we like it there) and never had any problem finding accommodations. But this time everywhere we went there were "No Vacancy" signs. We even drove way out of town to the holiday park that we had stayed at on our previous trip. No luck, but I did find out the problem.

Now if you're any fan of The Lord of the Rings at all, and not a cave troll (in which case it would be understandable) you know that Peter Jackson is at it again making The Hobbit in two parts. As it turns out, the production company was in the process of filming on the east side of Lake Pukaki and the town was "chock-a-block" with hobbits. Though the celebrities were staying at (dum, dum, dum...) The Hermitage.

We did manage to find probably the last room in town and grabbed it.

Needless to say, LOTR thrust EnZed into the world spotlight. Talking to a tourism individual, ten years later half of the tourists still cite LOTR as one of the main reasons for visiting. Sadly, we've noticed some big changes here just since our last visit in 2008. 24 hour groceries, youth mesmerized by smart phones in the smallest of villages (I found one in the restroom with his plugged in to the wall while texting), multiple TV channels with non-stop advertising; all the comforts of all the ruined and overpopulated "societies" around the globe. The tourists want it, the tourists get it.

Going back to the oblivious cave trolls, when the Hobbit was just getting on its feet, the whole thing was nearly scuttled by the industry guilds who, based on the amazing success of the LOTR, found this an ideal opportunity to hold the producers hostage for unreasonable amounts of money. There were serious threats to take the project elsewhere for filming. The two sides seemed at loggerheads. Enter the Prime Minister.

Through a series of negotiations and payoffs, parliamentary actions and law changes, filming of the movies was assured for New Zealand. It's such a big deal that during the lead up to the recent elections John Key mentioned his role in this several times as a campaign stratagem.
Part of the deal even includes Tourism blurbs on the DVDs. The Last Best Place's days are numbered.

The next morning we headed out of Twizel direct QT with the smug knowledge that we had been surrounded by Hobbit Helpers.

November 29 - Mt. Cook

2011-12-06T12:19:00.000-08:00

We packed up the trusty Toyota and headed for Cynthia's next must-do destination; Mt. Cook.
We had not gotten there on either of our last trips. Living in Washington we are no strangers to mountains, but we were unprepared for what we would see.

On the way we decided to pick up a couple Subway sandwiches in Geraldine to take to Tekapo.

We saw lots of interesting things for sale along the road: pony poo, $3.00 per bag, pine cones, $3.50 per bag, and free range eggs. I can't seem to find out what range eggs are and why everyone is always trying to give them away.

Lake Tekapo. The coloration comes from glacial silt transported down the valley from the Godley River

Mt. Cook at the head of Lake Pukaki, another glacial lake fed by the Tasman River

The road to Mt. Cook takes off from the main highway and terminates at the Mt. Cook village some 60 kilometers later. It runs up the west side of Lake Pukaki which is situated in a glacial valley with towering mountains on both sides. There's one way in and one way out. We thought we saw a lot of campervans on the coast. The CV traffic on this road was unbelievable. I'm sure glad it isn't summer.

Typical corner of a car park

The mountains here in New Zealand don't bother with the foreplay of foothills; they just leap out of the plains and into the sky

When we got to the village we started looking for a place to stay amid the limited accommodations available. After passing a litany of "No Vacancy" signs we were pretty much forced to stop at the bully of the village; The Hermitage Hotel.

Inquiring at Reception we were told that the cheapest room they had was $250, and no view. We then considered the the DOC campground about 3 kilometers away and took a drive. Once there we found that there really wasn't any place left to pitch a tent that didn't have a mini-Mt. Cook in the middle of it. The clincher was the screaming baby. But not all babies there were so ill-behaved:

Nap time

Warm gravel feels good on the tummy

Also, the DOC is under some delusion that I'm going to, um, uh hem...crap in a pipe!

So back to the village. Continuing around the loop road from where we left off we came to the Chamois Backpackers. Thus far we had escaped having to stay at a backpackers, but we were out of options for anything within a 20 minute drive. We opted for a motel room with a wretched view of Mt. Sefton...for $125.

We were somewhat confused by the placarding in the shower:

Evening settles in...

The following morning the plan was to fish the Glentanner spring creek. I wanted to get a reasonably early start (8ish) so we went out looking for breakfast. We wandered the village. There were a couple places that served "breakfast" but didn't open until 10 am. So we were forced to walk up to the Hermitage. Since we considered $75 for breakfast just a tad outrageous we decided on our sticks and seeds, and coffee in the communal kitchen at the backpackers.

When I walked into the kitchen I had to quickly step back out again and look for the sign. Sort of when you wander into the restroom and don't see any urinals. I had to make sure that I hadn't accidentally wandered into a barn. The place was filthy. Caked food all over the tables. Big clumps of noodles (favorite fare of backpackers on the cheap) in the sink, and God knows what else. We had to scrub off a place to eat, and even then I was afraid to let the cutlery touch the table. After breakfast we headed out. It was a spectacular day; sunny and uncharacteristically calm.

The next day the plan was to pack the rig, do some hiking and head outbound for Twizel. It was a good thing that I fished the day before because this day the wind was just howling! The first order of business was fueling up the truck for the drive to Twizel. Next nearest fuel was at Twizel about 80 kilometers away, and I was low.

They have self-serve fuel pumps there so we pulled in. Now here's an interesting bit of trivia. It seems that almost everywhere else in the world credit cards have embedded RF chips, and require PIN numbers for transactions. I guess as Americans we are just not yet ready for Big Brother to know our panty size. This is not a problem for face-to-face transactions where you can sign, but here there is no one. We tried every card we had including debit cards that had PINs to no avail. I went to the DOC center and told them of my problem and fervent hope that this was not the first time this had happened. They told me that the fuel was owned by dum, dum, dum (imagine spooky music here) The Hermitage. Shocker. Anyway, I was able to have them take a draw from my credit card and send a porter down to use his card so I could fill up.

Glacial moraine at Kea Point

Cynthia wanted to hike up to the Tasman Glacier viewpoint. This required driving about 10 kilometers from the village on a dusty gravel road to the car park. Fortunately the wind was blowing so hard at right angles to our direction of travel that the dust cloud from the lumbering behemoths ahead of us blew straight out sideways. The road in was long with a gentle curve so that you could see the 10 campervans ahead of you in the distance. Their dust plumes reminded me of something you would see in a Patton movie as he chases Field Marshall Rommel.

When we got to the ridgeline viewpoint the wind was blowing so hard that you had to be REALLY careful not to get blown off the mountain. Seriously. The wind must have been at least 60 mph and you had to hang on to rocks when you walked.

Tasman Lake at the foot of Tasman Glacier

Glacier babies...

The Tasman Glacier. Crap thickness, 3 feet, ice thickness 1800 feet!

Been there, done that, now off to Twizel.

A funny thing I saw

2011-12-06T12:17:00.000-08:00

We were shopping yesterday when we saw a Chickadee hopping along and jumping up and grabbing dead bugs off of the license plates of parked cars.

November 28, - Mt. Somers

2011-12-05T18:52:00.000-08:00

We woke to hot and windy weather. I checked my DEET-soaked bag for signs of improvement but instead it was sort of melting. I wish I had faith in the gay hippy all natural repellent. I went to the proprietors and asked if I could dump the thing in their trash bin, and told them the story of the chair. They told me that all motel owners usually have insurance for accidental damages such as these, and I shouldn't have to pay any more than their excess (deductible) which was usually between $250 and $500. That was a relief.

I had just picked up my phone to put it in my pocket when it rang. It was the chair lady. She told me that she had contacted an upholteress just outside of Westport who had material almost identical to that destroyed, and she could put a dye wipe on it to make it match. Then she told me the price! I was stunned. She was very apologetic and assured me that she was telling the truth and wasn't trying to screw me. I said ok and agreed to pay the $45. Unbelievable. We've paid more for breakfast than that.

Speaking of breakfast, prices here have increased dramatically since our last visit. For example, gasoline here is $6.30 USD/gal. Diesel is much cheaper...$4 something, but then they screw you with a per-mile diesel road use tax that brings it up to about even. On our last trip our eating out to eating in ratio was about 75/25. This trip it has just about reversed. The exchange rate seems to hover around .80, and doing a bit of calculating I come to a figure of $36.50 NZD is about equivalent to what we pay for breakfast at home, considering we pay about 9% sales tax (which is already included in prices here) and pile on a 15% tip (no tipping here). Anyways, I digress.

As I mentioned before, it was HOT out. Fortunately it was also windy. The owner of the motel told us that the weather was supposed to shift to the south and it would cloud up and rain. Darn.

Cynthia had chosen a nice little hike up Mt. Somers. I asked the owner about the place and he said "It's nice...just be down before the sun is."

We are continually being cautioned about the changeable weather here. Especially this time of year, and especially in the mountains where it can snow any day of the year. Because of this, even though it's 85 degrees we pack a fleece and rain gear on every hike.

The Mt. Somers track is a loop. We get to the trailhead car park and as per usual we decide to hike the loop backwards from what is typical. After ascending 975 feet in 6/10 of one mile I am starting to figure out why people would prefer to come down this way instead of up. And as an extra added bonus the wind quit blowing.

Our destination. Will we make it? Details at 11.

Getting closer...

The Canterbury Plains

Why I'm being dragged out here

At this point we stop anywhere we feel the slightest puff of a breeze.

...and closer...

Up here the wind was blowing nicely. It swung around 180 degrees in about 15 minutes.

closer still...will we make it?

I think not. Dark clouds looming to the south

Can I die now...please?

The sky from my vantage point

After we made it down we had a little lunch and it was fleece time real quick. All told, we gained 1775 feet in elevation in 1.56 miles. It took us 2.75 hours to get up here and about 1.25 hours to get down.

By the time we finished lunch it was starting to rain. By the time we got back to town it was pouring.

A Funny Thing Happened To Me

2011-12-05T14:47:00.000-08:00

I really wanted to settle on whether or not whitebait was worth eating. We saw a sign: "Whitebait sandwiches, $5" in a town called Kumara Junction. Now whitebait is pretty expensive stuff. A typical whitebait patty in a restaurant fetches around $32 so I figured for $5 I could afford to collect some empirical data.

As one would expect, the sandwich was buttered white bread with a "patty" between about the size of a Ritz cracker. It also had the "mouthfeel" of fish jerky. Surely this can't be what everyone raves about.

In Hokitika I asked the front desk woman at our cabin where to go in town to get a true sampling. She mentioned that the "French" restaurant had a dish formed in a cone ($32) and another restaurant had the patty at $30. However, she usually goes to the fish and chips shop and gets the sandwich for $12. This figure fit more precisely into my R&D budget.

We shuffled on down to the shop, and as luck would have it, another male patron had just received one. He was sitting with a group of people. Once he had gotten about half way through it (about 4 bites) I said "Excuse me, but is that sandwich any good?" He held it up and said "have a bite". As you might expect, I laughed and recoiled from his offer. To this he says "What, you think I have some f___ing mouth disease?" So I thought "what the hell" and took a bite. Problem solved. I never have to eat it again.

November 27, Hokitika to Methven

2011-12-05T12:45:00.000-08:00

Having heard nothing so far from the Westport chair owner, and having obtained the piece of spiritually charged greenstone we set out for Arthur's Pass. This is the only pass to the coast that we have not been on, and reportedly the most scenic.

Note campervan impediment

There is another way to get to Arthur's Pass. From Christchurch you can take a train that runs over the pass and on to Greymouth where it regurgitates its contents for a shopping spree. It also stops at Arthur's Pass, as do all the buses.

KEA

New Zealand has an interesting bird called a Kea. It is the only alpine parrot in the world. The Kea's notorious urge to explore and manipulate makes this bird a pest for residents and an attraction for tourists. Called "the clown of the mountains", it will investigate backpacks, boots or even cars, often causing damage or flying off with smaller items. I've read that unattended tents in the back country often get "burgled" by this bird by simply chewing through the side.

People commonly encounter wild Kea at South Island ski areas. They also love the train station at Arthur's Pass. Can you guess why? The Kea are attracted by the prospect of food scraps. Their curiosity leads them to peck and carry away unguarded items of clothing or to pry apart rubber parts of cars—to the entertainment and annoyance of human observers. They are often described as "cheeky". A Kea has even been reported to have made off with a Scottish man's passport while he was visiting Fiordland National Park.

Feeding Kea has been shown to have a detrimental effect on the birds' health and well-being and is thought to contribute to their destructive behavior (not that that stops the practice). The birds' trusting behavior around humans has also been indicated as a contributing factor in a number of recent incidents at popular tourist spots where Kea have been purposely killed.

After tiring of trying to elbow my way past the asians to be able to get a picture without them in it, I had to resort to my long lens.

Our ultimate destination for the day was the small town of Methven. Methven is essentially a support town for local area skiing and not much else.

Adds new meaning to the term "ski fence"

Along the way:

The "Orient express" on its way back to Christchurch

After finally arriving at Methven we booked in for two nights. Why two you ask? Cynthia had fun plans in store for me.

Snorkel Envy

2011-12-04T19:18:00.000-08:00

The snorkel is an extension of the engine air intake system which allows the vehicle to drive through water potentially to the height of the snorkel. A quick walk around the shopping center revealed these. Don't leave home without it!

Funny Thing I Saw Today

2011-12-04T18:38:00.001-08:00

The Quest for Pounamu - Hokitika...again

2011-12-04T12:19:00.000-08:00

Greenstone (Pounamu) is nephrite jade.

The Story of Pounamu, The Sacred Stone of Aotearoa

Long ago, when there were different stars in the heavens, the ancestors sailed the oceans seeking the stone of the Gods.

When they came to the shores of Aotearoa, to the Arahura river, they found a stone born of the stars, and held it close to heal the people and the land. They called it Pounamu.

For more than a thousand years the trail walkers of the Waitaha nation moved this precious stone over the high passes of the Southern Alps on the peace trail. There it gained its mana, a wonderful birthright of spiritual power.

Then it was carried by the great double-hulled waka to all parts of the land, and the old homelands of the Pacific Rim.

Name your stone for it is your companion on the trails of life. In accord with ancient lore it is usually gifted, its enduring power is being given with love.

It is a stone of the wairua, the world of the spirit realm that surrounds all.

Pounamu plays a very important role in Māori culture. It is considered a taonga (treasure). Pounamu taonga increase in mana (prestige) as they pass from one generation to another. The most prized taonga are those with known histories going back many generations. These are believed to have their own mana and were often given as gifts to seal important agreements.

Pounamu taonga include tools such as chisels (whao) and adzes (toki), fishing hooks and lures, and bird leg rings (kaka poria); weapons such as mere (short handled clubs); and ornaments such as pendants (hei tiki, hei matau and pekapeka), ear pendants, and cloak pins.

It is found only in the South Island of New Zealand, known in Māori as Te Wai Pounamu ("The [land of] Greenstone Water") or Te Wahi Pounamu ("The Place of Greenstone").

In 1997 the Crown handed back the ownership of all naturally occurring pounamu to the South Island tribe Ngāi Tahu, as part of the Ngai Tahu Claims Settlement (sounds like something they’d do in Canada).

When we hit the west coast Cynthia decided that I would make her a "gift" of pounamu. Which is convenient because we would be crossing the legendary Arahura river at Hokitika. One of Cynthia's traits that makes her the perfect female is that she hates to shop. Consequently, when we got to Hokitika she decided that she didn't need my "gift" after all. So northward ho!

Subsequently our travels led us from Hokitika to Greymouth, Westport, Karamea, Westport...again, Inangahua, Reefton, Stillwater, Moana and the highway to Arthur's Pass at Inchbonnie; when Cynthia suddenly discovered that I needed to make her a "gift" of Pounamu after all. That meant back to Hokitika...again. At Hokitika we got a cabin at the same place as we did for the "Big Storm".

The next day we set out on the task of obtaining the perfect pendant. We were stunned to discover (not) that greenstone jewelry is a huge bus tour industry with at least a dozen shops in this small town disgorging vast quantities of this "rare and spiritual" form of jewelry.

For an indication of just how rare this substance is, note the shop name on the left

After due consideration, Cynthia decided my "gift" should be Te Manaia.

Te Manaia gift shop Maori meaning: The Guardian Angel, representing the balance between sky, earth and water. It has the head of a bird, the body of a man and tail of a fish.

Williams' Dictionary of the Maori Language gives the following meanings for manaia: a grotesque beaked figure sometimes introduced in carving; ornamental work, a lizard; the sea-horse; a raft; and, as an adjective, fastidious.

Boy, I wonder which is correct?

One of the biggest greenstone shops in Hokitika is called The Jade Factory, which pretty much sums up the rarity of this form of decoration. Well, I wasn't going to buy anything from a shop with the word factory in it's name, so we found a small little shop where the saleslady is genuine Maori and the the pieces are all guaranteed to be made from New Zealand greenstone (many are made from British Columbia jade, unbenownst to the purchaser). The workshop was right on site ("the brother of my sister does the carving, my sister's brother does the polishing", yada, yada, yada).

Rare raw materials

Bottom line, Cynthia got her gift. As you can see from the myth above, the recipient must name their gift for it bears great spiritual meaning and will be with you forever. Cynthia named hers Shirley.

November 25, DEET - It's Not Just For Mouthwash Anymore

2011-12-01T22:25:00.000-08:00

The morning dawned bright and sunny. After a great breakfast of sticks and seeds we were just about loaded up when Cynthia walks in and says "what's this crap all over?" She had red stuff on her hands, shirt, hat, pants...

On closer examination, the bottom of my day pack was covered in red sticky stuff. I suddenly realized the large jumbo size spray bottle of 100% DEET insect repellent had emptied itself inside one of the pockets of my pack. The bottom portion of my pack unclips to form a separate waist type pack (can't say the f___y word here) so I whipped that off and tossed it outside.

The red sticky pack was bad, but not as bad as when we tracked down the source of the red stuff. It seems that we had tossed the pack onto a brand new leather-like material easy chair in the room and the red (more like burgundy) was the chair's finish!

The DEET had removed, no dissolved the material coating down to the fabric backing! I wiped it down with a wet cloth but it wouldn't come off and it was sticky. I explored the possibility of just flipping the cushion over (didn't want the next tenant to sit in it) but the underside was fabric with Velcro. I decided to fess up so I pulled the cushion off the chair and went to the front office to admit my guilt. I felt really bad. Not only because I had ruined a good chair, but because I couldn't see any solution but to buy a new one. It's not like Westport is the upholstery capital of the world.

Grandma was minding the store while her daughter and son-in-law (or son and daughter-in-law) went away for a couple days. She didn't know what to do so I just left my mobile number and credit card number and dreaded the Monday call.

In the mean time I took the pack into the shower with me and scrubbed the hell out of it and it seemed to take the sticky out. I strapped it onto the spare tire of the rig and set off down the road. Kind of makes you wonder what this stuff does to your skin.

...to be continued

November 24 - Westport...again

2011-12-01T21:37:00.000-08:00

After we came back down from our adventures in Karamea, we decided to overnight in Westport...again. We decided to stay at the same holiday park as before since the folks were very nice. We even got our old room back. These units were very nice. Recently redone with all new beds and furniture. Nice and quiet. Plus the unit that we looked at at the beach with another holiday park smelled like urine.

The "book" had this to say about a restaurant on Tuaranga Bay called The Bayhouse Cafe':

"One of New Zealand's best restaurants, The Bayhouse Cafe' is sophisticated without being stuffy. The chefs use local ingredients like piko piko (fern shoots) and horopito (New Zealand Peppertree) in preparing seafood, west coast venison and Canterbury lamb. The wine list is easily the best on the West Coast".

After Karamea we decided we needed a little splurging so headed out to Cape Foulwind...again.

When we got there there was a great sign that said it was all closed but we could buy it if we wanted. Major disappointment. The storm from the day before was just getting worked out so I at least got a few pictures.

On our way back to the holiday park we saw an excellent example of kiwi patriotism (or All Black admiration). The Silver Fern frond is a New Zealand national emblem.

Someone had gone to a lot of effort to put up their firewood, cheer for Queen and Country and root on the All Blacks all in one:

Continuing back to town we remembered it was Thanksgiving so decided to celebrate by buying one of those roasted chickens you see in the grocery store. You know, the ones that have been stewing in their own juices for the last 12 hours. The ones you don't have to chew...just sort of mash the meat against the roof of your mouth and call it good.

Also, we couldn't find any of our own "Lawson's Dry Hills" wine so we got the next best thing. Chinese I think...

Weka

2011-12-01T00:23:00.000-08:00

The Weka is a flightless bird about the size of a chicken. The early settlers called them woodhens. I'm guessing they pretty much taste like chicken. They are very inquisitive and pilfer things. They can be a pest. They like to take things and run off into the bush to examine their plunder. The trick is not to chase them but just watch where they go and a little later go pick up your stuff.

They were all over the west coast. Not the least of which were road kill. They seemed to hang out any place they thought they might get a hand out. I don't typically go in for feeding the wildlife, but I needed to perform an experiment. Weka can't fly, but can they jump?

Oparara Arch, Moria Gate and cave spiders

2011-11-30T22:30:00.000-08:00

When we arose from our blessed slumbers at The Last Resort the weather was shining. We (she) decided to visit some geological formations called the Oparara Arch, Moria Gate and a couple caves. One of the caves was called the Box Canyon cave and the other was called the Crazy Paving cave.
Heading out of town we had to stop by the Police station:

The Oparara Arch is a natural limestone arch nibbled away by the Oparara River.

The Moria Gate Arch is one of several locations that have been renamed after Lord of the Rings places. I don't know what it was before. It doesn't really look much like the true Moria Gate, you know, the one in real life...in the Misty Mountains...

View from the outside

I thought "man what a gyp". I turned around to go back and Cynthia says let's just see what's around the corner. When we went on there was a sign pointing the way to Moria Gate. The trail actually went up and over the gate to the other side.

I told you it looked like Jurassic Park

On the other side we found the cave opening leading into the bowels of Moria...

When we were flying to Christchurch from Auckland we were seated next to a woman. Cynthia and she talked the whole way down. It was another case of the "It's a small world" syndrome. Turns out she lives in Smithers British Columbia, just up the road (in Canada terms) from our cabin at Nimpo Lake! She had been to Nimpo many times and knew some of our neighbors.

So what does this have to do with arches and caves? Just when we got back to the parking lot who walks out of the woods but the woman from Smithers. Weird.

When we were in Karamea we saw this car drive by (your usual camry type rental car) that had a rack on it that carried a fishing rod from the hood up over the top of the car. It looked kind of slick. Right after we got to the car park for the caves, that same car drives up and parks right next to us. I had to talk to the guy and check out this gizmo. Seems he had come up with this slick 2-piece rack, both pieces had flat plates on the bottom that were magnetic and could be stuck anywhere on the car that was convenient. In this case one on the hood and one on the top. He had two nice rods on it and they are only held to the rack by small bungy cords. I don't know much about spinning rods but he had about $2000 worth of fly rod/reel strapped on. He said he'd been traveling around for 6 weeks and nobody had bothered it yet.
Judging by the accents I'm guessing they were Scandinavian.

They took off up the trail ahead of us while we got our head lamps out. When we got to the cave they were coming back grumbling about needing a "torch", which is flashlight everywhere else in the world but the US. I offered him my spare and we went down together.

It was a little bit of a mistake because he and his friend must have been geologists or something because they would yammer away in their native tongue about every tiny thing they came across, and they kept going farther into the cave. See the problem here is I had given them a $3 flashlight that I bought in the checkout line at Lowe's or someplace so I felt obligated to stick around until they got out safely. I don't know if you've ever been deep in a cave and turned off your light but it is frightening. You put your hand up in front of your face and stare as hard as you can and then you'll end up touching your nose without even realizing your hand was close. Of course the next thing is you start thinking about how screwed you'd be if your light went out. So our cave adventure lasted longer than I had hoped.

After everyone had returned safely from the bowels of the earth we hopped in the car and headed back down the coast bound for Westport again. Our timing had been excellent. We came around a corner and the road people were just working on a "slip" that had us trapped up there and we didn't even know it! They had just gotten half the roadway clear so we were off and running.