NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #13

Wednesday May 1, 2013

Since there was no milk or sugar in the dining room for breakfast and we didn’t fancy toasting the frozen bread again, we packed up and headed out quite early, still without seeing or hearing anything from our landlady.

The trip to Auckland was under two hours  so we were a couple of hours early for our flight, which suited us. Plenty to time to fill the hire car tank – for once there were service stations near the terminals – drop the car off and check in. I dropped Rab off at the Departure terminal before I took the car, to save her walking. Just as well. As was the case in Christchurch, I had to walk from one end of the fairly lengthy terminal building where I had dropped the car to the other for the check-in desk. Then we had to go upstairs and walk back to about the same position I had entered the building – and go downstairs to the departure lounge. On the way we had a bite to eat – only McDonald’s but their Bacon and Egg McMuffins are, I think about the only product that is edible. Oh and the pancakes – we shared a serving.

The flight home on Qantas was the most uncomfortable I ever been on. There were no Business Class seats, no seats with extra leg room. The gap between the seats was so small that my knees touched the seat in front and there was not enough room for me to read a book. The seat itself was very uncomfortable because of its shape, intended no doubt to support the backs of those people who are shorter than me. And to add to the general discomfort, the cabin was uncomfortably warm. Staff and food were pleasant, but as I said to the hostie when she asked me if I had a good flight, I will never fly Qantas again if I can help it. They have joined British Airways and South African Airways on my list of “Airlines I’d Rather Not Use”.

It was great to be home, as it always is. We enjoy travelling very much, but miss the boys and our home comforts. The trip itself was a great success and I am sure that we’ll be doing more vanning around Australia, especially as we will be able to take the boys with us. Many campsites are happy  to have dogs. 

And there was another positive consequence. Away from the temptations which surround me in our pantry  cupboards, I actually lost a fair bit of weight. I’ll probably use that initial loss as the spur to lose more.

NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #12

Tuesday April 30, 2013

It was very pleasant to wake to a misty morning and to see the cattle and  goat wandering through the garden and on the abandoned tennis court. After our unsatisfactory breakfast we headed back to Nola to decide what to do with the day.

Zulu at rest

Once again Zulu greeted us like family – aren’t dogs marvellous in their enthusiasm? – and tried to teach me his special game. This involves him leaping in the air vertically and then taking off like a rocket round and round the property, coming close on some circuits, at which stage you are meant to try to touch him. Tired out after the game, and not allowed to enter the house, he collapsed in the shade of a creeper and lay happily in the sun.

When we had first discussed our visit with Nola, I had suggested we might visit Hobbiton, the movie set where The Lord Of The Rings was shot in part and also, several years later, The Hobbit. She seemed quite keen and although there was not a deal of enthusiasm from Rab, she knew that since I had read the books years ago I would like to see what had been done for the films. We haven’t seen those after an initial attempt to see LOTR Part 1 back in Kalk Bay when it was first released. Youngest brother, Pad, a keen Hobbit fan, suggested it would make a fine family outing, so we went to the movies en masse. After about an hour, I could sense that Rab was getting restless. She was sitting next to Steve’s wife, Judy, who was equally unimpressed with what was a great movie and before we knew it they had bailed out and gone shopping.

Nothing had been said yesterday about going to the site, so I assumed that any support for the proposal had waned, but I was wrong. Nola was keen and as a sop, or bait perhaps, for Rab she suggested we could combine the tour of the set with a  visit to a small town Tirau which we had passed through on the way up from Taupo and which was said to contain some very interesting shops, a fact that Rab had commented on as we drove through.

Hobbiton - first view

So off we went, finding our way to The Shire’s Rest Café which was one of the places where you could join the tours – and purchase some really nice but expensive merchandise. I resisted this – I have so many souvenir shirts and caps that I have a permanent resolve to buy no more.

The wait for the bus was short and by then there was quite a crowd. With trips running every half hour, a minimum adult charge of NZ$75 a head and a full bus of about 40 people, they are making a mint, I think. Not that I begrudge them their charge. It was a tremendous excursion and we all enjoyed it. 

 

The guide was a personable young man who kept us entertained with the relative information about the site and how it had been used.

Rab and Nola

He mentioned that many visitors were dressed as characters from the film including a German who, he said, must have been the tallest Hobbit in the world at a towering 2 meters. There were no such people in our group.

We weren’t sure about the weather and had taken our coats which were superfluous as it turned out because it was a very sunny day. 

The Greeen Dragon Inn across the water

There was a bit of walking up hill and down dale and it was good to get into the Green Dragon for a drink of delicious icy cold ginger beer. Of course there were dozens of photo opportunities and we were rather amused at one couple, who seemed to be in a fairly recent relationship.

View from the Green Dragon Inn

They took pictures of each other at every stopping place – and not one or two but half a dozen. They must have shot off a couple of hundred by the time the tour finished. Young love – well, not so young, but clearly love.

Hobbiton from the Green Dragon Inn

As we got into the car  at The Shire’s Rest Café on our return, ready to head on to Rab’s shopping expedition, Nola realised that she had left the case with her movie camera in it at the Green Dragon.

Gollum

 

She could not get on the next bus which was full, but our guide said he would call the pub and get the camera to their office in Matamata, which was not far from where we were. So we headed there and had a bite to eat and a cup of coffee. They didn’t get the camera back in time, but to Nola’s relief, at least they confirmed that it was safe and sound.

So finally we headed for Tirau which did indeed have a number of shops that Rab and her friends find particularly appealing. Usually smelling strongly of scented candles, they carry an incredible miscellany of items, many of which are curious, but none of which we would ever buy.

Tirau Information Offices

Poppy Cafe, Tirau

Another feature of the town is the presence of an arty couple who use corrugated iron sheeting to make unusual buildings and signs. The most striking of these was the Information Centre and associated town offices which were contained in two main buildings built in the shape of a sheep and a sheep dog. My favourite was the sign for the Poppy Café which I thought was striking.

We headed back to Cambridge and dropped Nola off before returning to Pedfield to our unmade beds. Extraordinary and unprecedented in all our travels that the proprietor of an establishment where we were paying would not tidy the room.

Nola and family picked us up in the evening and we headed in to Hamilton where we had a very pleasant meal at a Turkish restaurant. It was lovely spending time with them and we were so glad that we had decided to head  to North Island as well as having our caravan adventure on South Island.

NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #11

Monday April 29, 2013

We had picked up the basics for a breakfast from the supermarket last evening – just rolls and cheese and a bit of yoghurt. That suited us fine and better than the $16 breakfast offered by the hotel. It was another fine day and the lake looked lovely as we left.

It was only about 150 km to our destination – our niece’s home is 25 km from Cambridge and about the same distance from Hamilton. I say “niece” because we have always thought of Nola in that context, although she is the daughter of one of my cousins, Margie, so technically she is a second cousin. Half a dozen of us cousins all lived together in our grandfather’s house during the war when our fathers were away. We formed close bonds then and have always regarded our relationship as more like siblings than cousins. In any event ‘niece’ sounds much warmer than ‘second cousin.’

The drive to Cambridge was very pleasant. It was a sunny day and the countryside was so typical of how we remembered New Zealand. The gentle rolling hills look as if they are covered in green velvet and with flocks of sheep and cattle here and there, white wood fences, small homesteads with smoking chimneys, it is for all the world like a panorama one might see at a model train exhibition.

Without the GPS to guide us, we went somewhat astray in the last few kilometres, but managed to get Nola on the mobile and she put us right – one of her directions being to turn left when we saw the Home Kill business, a business name that puzzled us somewhat. She had been very ill, but had made a magnificent recovery thanks to her tremendous willpower and attention to her best options for dealing with her problem. Although she can never say she is ‘cured’ she is very happy with her NED – No Evidence of Disease – current diagnosis.

Zulu greeting me

She and her husband and the two children, Marc and Dani, have worked very hard over the past five or six years in turning what was a rather ordinary and somewhat run down farm dwelling into a very pleasant and welcoming home. Their big black Labrador with the distinctly un-politically correct name of Zulu greeted us like long lost friends, even thought he had never met us, as did Nola. It was truly wonderful to see her looking so well.

Of course we had many years of family chat to catch up on, even though we have been in touch via Skype and e-mail, and Nola had spent a few days with us in Melbourne three or four years ago. But the last time we met the family physically was in April 2001 when my brother Steve arranged for the “Millennium Meet” for our extended family. I felt a little sorry for Nola’s son and daughter who must have found the chatter about people and places they had never seen just a tad boring. Being a polite, well brought up pair, they never complained and even agreed to come along with us when we headed for a late lunch in the beautiful Hamilton Gardens, overlooking the quaintly named Turtle Lake. It was almost warm in the sun, but there was a brisk wind blowing and that dropped the temperature a degree or two.

On the way to Hamilton we had dropped into the BnB – Pedfield Country House were we had booked (and paid in advance)  for our two night’s accommodation. Of course Nola had offered to put us up in her guest cottage, but we felt that she had enough on her plate without having to look after two visitors.  Our reception at Pedfield and the story of our stay there is in my piece How Not To Run A Bed And Breakfast, so I won’t go into any more detail here. Suffice it to say that our first impressions could have been better, although they proved to be accurate.

Back we went to the family house after a drive around Hamilton to see the sights. The home is on several hectares and so it is possible to  run a few animals. Dani was in charge of feeding the ‘herd’ who were all anxiously  waiting our rather belated return. There was Dani’s horse, Hooligan, a cow named Petal and a couple of goats – Sparkle and Galaxy.

Petal, Hooligan and Galaxy wait for a feed

I had thought there were two cows from my memory of Skype calls and indeed that had been the case. Blackie, the second cow, had met up with the folk from Home Kill – the abattoir that calls to your home – and we were actually eating her for dinner that night. Rab and I still feel we’d find it very difficult to eat an animal that we’d raised from childhood and named, but country folk accept that as part of the normality of life. Nola, who is now involved in a pre-school situated near the Home Kills premises made us laugh when she described how the children played with some of the toy animals at the school because they would, as part of the game, have some of the cows and sheep die and be carted away. That is their normality.

Blackie made a delicious meal and we had a great evening – lots of laughter and yarns from the old days. Isn’t that what family gatherings are all about?

And so to bed at Pedfield. 

NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #10

Sunday April 28, 2013

Another good night, dropping off with the city lights winking below us. The dawn was not quite as spectacular as yesterday’s – the cloud formations making the difference – and possibly the fact I woke a little later this morning than I had yesterday. Still pretty good though.

Peg was up and about when we ascended the stairs for breakfast. Today there was a fresh fruit salad and Peg offering scrambled eggs, which we accepted with pleasure. She cooked it in the microwave, which was a first for us.

That butterfly's chrysalis is so pretty

Among the items on the breakfast table were some lovely flowers, freshly picked, and another bunch of pods releasing the fluffy white dandelion like seeds. There was another chrysalis attached to the stem of one of these giving a photo opportunity I tried to capture, with limited success.

Peg was interested in the shirt I was wearing, from Donny’s Bar on St Helena Island. Like most people Peg had no idea where the island was but was very interested in what we told her about it and the mail ship run that got us there six or seven times. She got down her old atlas – you could tell it was old by the names of the countries and it was fascinating to see that every page she opened had notes in her spidery handwriting, in the margins and on the maps themselves. She said they reminded her of the places she had visited or the places her guests told her about. So we are now immortalised in her note about St Helena.

I thought this might be the butterfly but it wasn't.

Breakfast and chatting over, I hauled the cases back up the narrow staircase – easier this time going up than coming down – one step at a time. Loaded up, we moved off with Peg’s farewell instructions in how to get to the N1 ringing in our ears. Down the hill we wound our way and managed to find our route to Taupo, our intended stop for the night. We were glad we had stopped off in Wellington. It is a very pleasant city, if a little windy.

As we drove, we tuned in to the weather report. The forecast for Fjordland and Southland, the two areas where we spent most of our time, was for gale force winds, heavy rain and hail. The news report also carried items about the hailstorm that had hit Christchurch yesterday, delaying flights and causing millions of dollars of damage. We were lucky indeed, as were Matt and family. They had great weather down in Akaroa on Friday and had a good flight home to Melbourne yesterday. Matt had the same feeling of sitting in a sports car when he first got into the family car – so low on the ground!

It was about 370 km to Taupo, our next destination – about four and a half hours driving. The roads were good, but with more traffic than South Island. Initially the countryside was steeply wooded and dark green but it gradually softened a bit to rolling green grassed hills, dotted with woods. This in turn changed again to a dry dusty look as we hit the area, which is also probably in a rain shadow where the tussock grass grows and which, so we were told, never goes fully green. Although this area is known as the Rangipo Desert it doesn’t quite come up to my expectations of a desert, but I guess it might well be, technically speaking.

One of the small towns we passed through was Bulls. Certainly one of the stranger place names we’ve come across and giving rise to a number of corny advertising billboards on the approaches to the town such as “The Only Place You Can Get Milk From Bulls.” Beyond Bulls we saw a striking snow covered peak rising ahead of us. I think it must have been Mount Ruhapeu. 

 

Mount Ruhapeu

Mt Ngauruhoe

Behind that was the unmistakable volcanic cone of Ngauruhoe which last erupted in 1977 but caused a bit of angst in 2006 when it was rumbling and giving signs of demonstrating that it is still technically an active volcano. As we headed north, the countryside changed quite dramatically and we found ourselves winding through some beautiful, heavily wooded country with some pretty dramatic bluffs and cliffs bordering the river below.

We thought we might stop off for lunch at Rangipo because we thought there was a lake nearby and our plan was to pick up a sandwich and have our meal on the lakeside. Well, no – no lake, no sandwich shop, so we settled, foolishly for a Hungry Jack burger. I don’t like fast food burgers at the best of times and this wasn’t the best.

We were not far from the Lake Taupo turnoff as it turned out, so it would have been better to keep our appetites for the wider variety of food available there. Pausing only to try and get a good shot of Mount Ruhapeu which looked dramatic in the distance we went on to explore what had been a one horse village when we were here on our first visit. 

 

Both mountains in the distance with Lake Taupo in the forground

As was the case with Queenstown, there had been almost unbelievable growth and there were now many hotels lining both sides of the road as it wound its way around the lakeside to the entertainment centre where a plethora of restaurants and bars offered a  wide variety of options. We had thought we might try to get a cabin at the Top 10 campsite, but it was quite a way out of town and there was a long queue of cars waiting to get in, so we went back to look at the lakeside hotels. I fancied one in particular which was on a small promontory with great views of the lake, but the asking price made it a very pricey outlook.

There was a very nice place across the road and about half the price and we were very comfortable there. I was a bit wary when I saw a coach load of young people arriving on a tour, but they were either remarkably quiet, or we slept remarkably soundly. Perhaps it was the magnificent meal we enjoyed back in the village at a place called Dixie Brown’s. I have always said that the best ribs I ever had were those we ate at Branson Missouri, with the second best at Constantia, outside of Cape Town, but these were even better. Just melted off the bone. Rab had one of her favourites – belly pork and pronounced it excellent and possibly one of the best examples she had eaten too. Washed down with a couple of local beers – what more could we ask for?

NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #9

Saturday April 27, 2013

We slept pretty well last night. My ankle gave me a bit of a problem a couple of times during the night, but felt better in the morning.

The dawn was spectacular. The sun rose on our right and the sky and clouds were a pinkish gold – so Rab told me because I couldn’t see the pink clearly, but the gold was there for sure. I tried to get some good shots but they really cannot show the beauty we saw. It was a tremendous way to start the day, sitting sipping our coffee and watching the changing colours in the sky and the city  and docks wake up below.

Peg had asked us last night what time we would like our breakfast and we had agreed 08.00, so a good shower, with me sorting the clothes for re-packing and we were ready to start the day.

Of course the view from the dining room table where we had breakfast was terrific and so was the food. There were delightful stewed plums followed by an excellent muesli with yoghurt. Peg had offered us an omelette each which we accepted with alacrity, although we declined the cheese filling despite Peg’s insistence that an omelette without cheese was like a day without sunshine. The end result of her cooking which included parsley and chives, but not the cheese, was excellent.

Peg’s house was full of an eclectic collection of art, some of which was to our taste and others less so. She was also captivated by the chrysalis of the Emperor Butterfly which she had brought in from her garden and which was hanging from a cut bloom that had gone to seed. It was a beautiful piece of work  that had been created by Nature – and I wondered whether the golden tiara around the chrysalis had anything to do with the naming of the butterfly.

Having discussed our options for the day we had decided to just drive around the coast to see what the city and suburbs were like and then perhaps pop into the city for some shopping – Rab having been on a shopping diet, unsatisfied by the glories of Geraldine. It was a lovely sunny day and the gale force wind had dropped, so Peg agreed it would be a splendid idea and said we could pop into one of the delightful cafes and just sit and watch the passing show while we had a coffee.

So off we went, winding down the hillside and following Peg’s directions that we would have needed to use the night before. Not so easy even in daylight, but we made it down to sea level in the end. There were some lovely views as we drove around – and a fair few fishermen, so something must have been on the bite. What a great way to spend a Saturday.

For most of the drive we were on a fairly narrow road  with lush green wooded hills soaring up alongside us – sometimes quite steeply.  

Every now and then we would come across a little settlement of half a dozen houses, while up in the hills we could sometimes see the facades and roofs of dwellings. There were two or three larger villages with some delightful old houses in them. Mostly wood structures in what might be termed Historic Beach style with a Victorian look to most of them. The few modern ones just didn’t fit, for our money – all glass and flat surfaces. No character.

As we came to the end of the coastal road, and turned inland, the houses on the hills grew thicker, leading us to speculate what the population of Wellington might be. I suggested about 400,000 on the basis that the total population of New Zealand was about 4 million with about 1.5 million living in Auckland. Rab felt that there must be more, based on the number of houses we could see, but a check with Wikipedia that evening showed that I wasn’t far out, although I had overestimated the Auckland population. It was interesting to see that 75% of the population lived in North Island – which is why there were so many more sheep than people in South Island.

We wound our way over roads that were in good condition, although very narrow with tight bends and steep climbs – thank goodness we didn’t have to pilot a van – as we made our way through the outer suburbs.

I was getting a bit peckish and suggested a stop in a little village where Rab had decided that she had to buy something on her list. Incidentally, talking of shopping, the incident of my long shoe laces shows how poorly my mental faculties work these days. I had bought a new pair of walking shoes which had the long laces that the Chinese manufacturers seem to favour. Darned nuisance they were – would even stand on them at times as they dragged along the ground. I had been meaning to buy some shorter laces and Rab even had them on her shopping list when it dawned on me that if I cut the offending ends down to a better length I would have no problem! Geez, Terry, get a hold of yourself.

But we didn’t eat. Rab’s argument against lunch was that we had  a late and good breakfast and, as we didn’t want to drive at night over the winding roads to and from Panorama, we should have an early evening meal, just before sunset – i.e. about 17.00. Despite my protests and my concern that I might faint away, she was adamant, so on we went, with my intake limited to a packet of crisps. We didn’t buy anything at the shops either, I might add.

Heading back towards the city to complete our circular drive, we went through an area where all the street names had a distinctly Indian flavour – there were the names of many cities that we recognised and I guess the ones we didn’t were also Indian places. We could imagine some old colonial codger setting up the suburb after serving time with HM Government in India, relishing the memories of his time in the sub-continent.

We had by now realised why we had difficulty in spotting the road names – which led us astray from time to time. The road name signs had a pale grey or violet background with white lettering – very difficult to read on the move and they were also placed at varying heights and situations. This became a real issue when we got to the city which is a mad web of inconsistent (at least to the visitor) one way streets.

Panorma circled

With a lack of comprehensible warning signs, we had a tendency to either overshoot a junction or take an earlier one.Before going into the city proper, we diverted to the docks. There was not much of interest there, but we were able to identify Panorama high on the hill.

But we made it to Kirkaldie and Stains – the Harrods of Wellington. After stopping off in the docks which were very quiet. We managed to work out where Panorama was from  where we stood, but took a shot to check that we were right. We were lucky to find a parking spot near the shop as there was a fair bit of traffic despite the fact that it seemed that many shops were only open half days on Saturday. As I tried to puzzle out the charges on the meter, a friendly passerby told me that there was no need to pay over the weekend – nice touch. The emporium was like stepping back in the past – not quite to 1863 when the shop was established, but certainly to the middle of the last century when department stores like this were so typical. And where, as in Kirkaldie’s, women retired to the Ladies Powder Room, while men had to be satisfied with the Man’s Room.

Rab enjoyed looking around at the very high quality goods and got chatting to one of the dear old ladies who were serving behind the counters, who may well have been born soon after the shop was established. She recommended that we look in Cuba Street  for a nice restaurant.

Satisfied with her dose of shopping, Rab agreed to my proposal that we should have a look at what was available in Cuba Street but then head up to Mount Victoria to see what the view of the city was like from this high point. Well, easier said than done, since Cuba Street was one way for part of its length and one way the other way for another part and, just to confuse us two way for one block. We spotted a couple of likely places and then made our way, with a few reversals and wrong turns up to the summit of the mountain. Very  disappointing. The view over the bay was not better than Panorama and on the other side the  city and suburbs looked like cities and suburbs.

So back we went to the city and, having plotted a route through the web of one way streets landed up precisely where we wanted to be in Cuba Street – AND there was a parking place available. Our first choice restaurant was not open, so we went to the second, an Italian one. Delicious food for both of us, with my appetite honed of course  by a seven hour absence from food.

It was getting towards dusk as we made our way back up the hill. As Peg had said, it wasn’t difficult, at least in daylight.

A glass of wine with Peg, some delicious cheese, a great sunset and we were ready to turn in.

NEW ZEALAND CAMPING 2013: DAY #8

Friday April 26, 2013

The windmills at The Farmyard Campsite

Putting my head between the curtains when I woke to check on the weather – it looked like another good day – the antics of the resident peacocks and peahens made me laugh. They were scrapping over a slice of bread which had appeared from somewhere – there was a list in the ablution block of the best food to give the animals – no wonder the pigs were disappointed yesterday when we turned up empty handed. The males would grab the morsels, clearly confident that with their glorious plumage and imperial strut, no one would deny them their right to eat first. “Nothing doing,” said the drab peahens, dashing in to snatch and grab and, unencumbered by a long and beautiful tail, outrun the peacocks.

Child Labour

The girls were excited about the prospect of their first donkey rides after breakfast, but before that they turned up for cleaning duties. These had to be strictly allocated and policed to prevent any demarcation disputes. Stephi had the rear of the van and Caroline the front and they did an excellent job, saving Gran’s (and my) knees.

We bid them all a fond farewell as they headed for their rides to be followed by their journey to Akaroa for their last night.  Matt gave Rab a big hug and thanked her for trying out the campervan experience – said he never thought she’d do it.. After dumping grey water and waste – no way were we going to leave the van in the condition we got it, we were off with plenty of time in hand. As I always say, boringly no doubt, before beginning a journey, I would rather sit for an hour in the departure lounge than turn up five minutes late to find boarding closed.

We were in two minds whether to take the longer, scenic route, to Christchurch  or the more direct route which we could time better, opting for the latter in the end. Since we had time in hand, we paused in Geraldine for Rab to pop into a shop that she had seen the day before – amazing how much time was spent shopping in this little village. On our way I spotted a wool shop on the side of the road – The Tin Shed. I was pretty certain we had stopped there and had bought two very fine jumpers on our way to Queenstown on our last visit, so, since we had time in hand, we popped in again. It had some lovely goods, none of which we bought, but all of which Rab examined, taking so long that we were up against our time limit once we got going again. Very nice people running the place.

Rab guided me back to the van premises like a homing pigeon but we had a bit of a surprise when we got there as dozens of vans queued for entry. We had assumed that handover would be a short action, but how long would all these take to process. We unloaded our luggage, leaving the keys in the van and hung about in the office, waiting our turn. While we were there we were surprised to see a food swap cupboard, sited near the returning van area. Great idea – people were encouraged to leave unexpired portions of their rations for newly arrived folk to take. It would have saved us a bit of time on arrival – and we would have had some Vegemite for breakfast.

In due course our turn came and I reported the chipped windscreen we had acquired near Duntroon. No worries said the lass. I also mentioned the state of the van – and suggested I might be reimbursed the $15.33 for the gas. Again, no worries, but also no apologies. Just a smile and there you go. By the time we were done the flood of vans had ceased almost completely – apparently there are ebbs and flows in just when the customers arrive which are difficult to predict.

The airport is not far away from the van depot and they took us around and dropped us off at what turned out to be very close to where we boarded the aircraft for Wellington, our destination. The only problem was that first we had to walk to the far end of the airport to book in and then walk back to the departure gate. The signage was not too clear and there was an automated booking in system that differed from the one in Australia and seemed to assume that you knew more than we did. A friendly airline employee helped us and pointed us to our destination. We only realised when we got there that we had not been through any form of security, a first for us for more years than we can remember. Presumably this is because the short haul flight we were joining simply could not be hijacked to any destination outside New Zealand because it wouldn’t have the range, but …..what of the other risks we are constantly warned about. We might have been aiming to blow up the plane with our shoes or our belts or our underpants.

The aircraft was a small propeller driven one – a DASH I think. I had assumed that it would be loaded from a front door and had booked the front row seats on the basis that I’d have some good leg room. Wrong! It loaded from rear doors, so we had to walk the length of the narrow  aisle to seats on the bulkhead – the worst position for me. Ah well, it was only 45 minutes, I could take it. And there were ‘light refreshments’ the chief steward told us. We duly were offerd a drink of water – you can’t get lighter than that. But it was refreshing.

We had some excellent views of the valleys and mountains of South Island as we flew north. 

The flight had some movement as we crossed the Cook Strait – the captain had warned us of this – which has a reputation  for being very windy with very rough seas. It became clear just why the flight and landing were so bumpy, as we stepped off the aircraft (we had to walk across the tarmac)  we were almost bowled over by a howling gale which  felt as if it had arrived straight from the Antarctic. 

Having made it to the terminal building we had another long walk – haven’t these folk heard of moving pavements?? – to collect our bags and find the rental car people. Everything in order there, including a GPS I had requested. “Why?”, asked my co-pilot, “We didn’t need one on South Island and we won’t need one here.”  So our cost was reduced by NZ$47.17 and they kept the GPS.

It was a very odd feeling when I first sat in the hire car – a Toyota Corolla because it felt as if I was sitting on the ground, with a very restricted view. Like a sports car almost. But I overcame those issues and heading out of the airport we had our first need for the GPS when, my fault, we turned right instead of left. We had downloaded a Google map to show us the way to the BnB we had booked for the night, and it showed great detail with street names etc. Problem was that we couldn’t see the names on any signs and what roads were labelled had different nomenclature to that which we were expecting.

The reason for my basic mistake however was that, when I had looked at the map last week at home, I had not realised that it was upside down. So I expected that the sea would be on my left as we exited the airport and turned appropriately. Of course it should have been on the right. But we were able to correct that – it is much easier to do a U-turn in a small car than a campervan – and head back up the highway. Our problems were not over however. Despite Rab’s best efforts and considerable skills we made three more errors before finally finding ourselves in the right place – Alexandra Road, which  curled up to the summit of Mount Victoria through some lovely  forested slopes with excellent views, although these were fading as night started to fall. Apparently this area was yet another LOTR site and there were signs up to tell us that.

Descending the mountain we spotted the very narrow turn off to Robieson Street, the address of the BnB. I was immediately confronted by a plumber’s van heading for me on the only remnant of road left because of all the cars parked on the road, all of which were also pointing towards me. Was this a one way road? Had we missed the sign? The plumber pulled into a small space and as I came alongside him I asked him if it was a one way street? “No, bro,” he said “Just a bloody narrow one!”. So on we went for a hundred metres or so until we spotted Robieson Lane on our right, which Rab said was the correct road to take. It was almost vertical and the houses were numbered erratically. We could not see a #1 and finally ran out of road, going through a large pair of opened gates onto an area paved with tiles with some orange plastic fencing warning us of the fifty foot drop on the right.

The u-turn we made was done with the same care that astronauts use when going to the toilet. Driving back through the gates we were able to see that the house next door was in fact our destination – Panorama Bed and Breakfast, #1 Robieson Lane, proprietor Peg MacKay. She gave us a very warm welcome and it was clear why she had named her establishment Panorama – the view from her lounge room was magnificent. She overlooked the Wellington Harbour and Fitzroy Bay and said she spent a deal of time watching the comings and goings far below. We had missed a large cruise ship, but saw the ferries coming in from Picton on South Island.

 

The ferry arrives from Picton

The only drawback to the house was that the guest accommodation was on a floor lower than the entrance floor and the staircase was very narrow. We usually leave our large case in the car when we are staying at BnB establishments, depending on a smaller case with our overnight requirements, but we had not done this, so I had to hump the large 20 kg/44 lb case down, a step at a time – the staircase was not wide enough to carry the case by my side. No great problem, but enough for me to feel a bit pooped by the time I had got both cases down. Rab was chatting to Peg, so I had me a little laydown – just ten minutes of relaxation using the techniques I had learned years ago from a wonderful yoga teacher.

Felt much better after that and joined the ladies upstairs where Peg offered me a glass of fine local Merlot and a snack of guacamole or avocado dip while I watched the passing show in the bay. She was a very interesting hostess – a little eccentric, as many BnB owners seem to be, but only too pleased to help with suggestions as to where to eat, what to see, what to do – we were staying two nights with her.

 

The sun set as we sipped our wine

Our first requirement was food – we had not had lunch and breakfast was a long way away in time and space – Geraldine, South Island. Peg’s suggestion was a fish restaurant down on the Oriental Bay, which was almost immediately below her house. Excellent food she said, but maybe difficult to get in on a Friday, but no worries – she knew them well and would make a booking for us. This she did, telling them we’d be there in about fifteen minutes.

Next thing was how to get to the restaurant. Her directions were a little vague for me along the lines of take the first road, sharp right, go on down, you can’t go wrong and you come out there (pointing to the end of the peninsula), then you come back here. Getting home was also simple – turn right on the first road off Majoribanks Street and keep taking the right turn options. Sounded a bit difficult to me – so how about a taxi? “Easy done, I know all the drivers and they know me – about $10 each way. I’ll call one now.”

Another glass of wine as we see the lights come on in the city, but no sign of the taxi driver. Eventually there is a tentative knock on the door and there stands Ablobolm  the cabbie from Eritrea who has parked his vehicle at the top of the lane and has been searching for the house for about half an hour. There were no street lights, so we grabbed our torches and puffed our way up the steep lane, with me narrowly avoiding twisting my ankle on a drain that ran down and across the lane, looking in the dark just like a white line.

It was interesting talking to Ablobolm about the difference in his life in New Zealand compared with Eritrea. He had no time for Maoris who he regarded as lazy loafers, living off the State and drinking their benefits away. He got us to the restaurant about an hour after Peg had called and agreed to pick us up in 45 minutes – we got his number in case that timing was not correct.

It turned out that there was no necessity to book at the restaurant and we were given a table by the window. The restaurant was somewhat limited and the food was OK but nothing to remember fondly. Rather like the food you’d get in a good RSL club back in Australia. It was fairly noisy with a bunch of Aussies throwing back the beers – which were rather nice - and breaking into a chant from time to time. I tried a Koi which was a dark beer.

It was pretty cold when we stepped out and waited for Ablobolm to show, which he did, right on time. He duly drove to Marjoribanks Street and driving along narrow streets reduced to one lane by parked cars, all the way and taking right turns including a last turn of almost 180 degrees delivered us safely to Panorama. Peg had the price wrong - $20 each way, but still good value.

We had a key and let ourselves in although Peg was still up and watching TV. She offered a night cap and a chat, but we were fairly tired after what had been quite a long day and retired to our snug bedroom. The lights below were so attractive that we decided to keep curtains open and drifted off to sleep just looking at the magnificent view and wondering how the family were doing in Akaroa.