Impossible Beauty

There are two things that you should know about the rain forest. One, that it rains and two that it's a forest.

Oh, and there's a third thing - it's full of bugs. Bugs that have an insatiable  appetite for human blood. In particular my blood. They really are little bleeders. Quite literally. If you let your guard down for moment they're in there, filling up on four star homosapien. 

It doesn't take much - maybe you forgot to close the window or missed a square inch of skin with the inspect repellant. What you should absolutely not do under any circumstances is drive for nearly six hours with several if then trapped in your car. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'meals on wheels'.

And it's not the itching that the worst thing - a few glasses of wine and you soon forget about it. No, it's the polka dot appearance of your wounded appendages. After a few days in the rain forest my legs look like they're part of a grizzly dot-to-dot puzzle. It's quite frankly embarrassing - when we went to the pool yesterday I was getting quizzical looks from fellow bathers, some giving me a wide berth believing that I had a tropical disease. Which I had - it's those bloody bugs.

But having said that, they're nowhere near as bad as the Scottish Midge. The Scottish Midge has perfected the art if being annoying. It's Kiwi counterpart is less troublesome but with a nasty nip. Mankind can only hope that they never meet and pass on tips to each other.

The 350km drive from Franz Josef to Queenstown took quite a while but it was so scenic but we were in no rush. Which was fortunate as it would be impossible to rush the journey. Or you would do so at your own peril as the road hugged precipitous cliffs, cross cavernous gillis and traversed hundreds of creeks. And I mean hundreds. Some had quite romantic names such as Whispering Creek and Tubmbling Creek, whilst others had  more natural sounding names; Trickle Creek, Blackwater Creek and Hairpin Creek. Then there were those named after people; Ben Creek, Joe Creek and Peter Creek. By the time they started naming them after medical illnesses, such as Gout Creek, they had clearly ran out of ideas and were getting desperate. I was half expecting to cross Headache Creek and perhaps Well It's Never Been The Same Since I Had That Fall Creek. 

But it was a stunning journey - probably one of the most, if not the most picturesque I have been on. I know at least one driving instructor who would have insisted in driving, as long as Simple Minds was on the car stereo. 

Vibrant blue lakes gave way to lush verdant forests. Snow capped mountain tops peeked from behind rolling green hills. New Zealand is a country of impossible beauty. 

Eventually we arrived into Queenstown which even at the early time of 2pm was gearing up for a storming New Year's Eve party. People were already spilling out of the bars and some were even on their second kebab of the 'night'. The town had it's glad rags on and was raring to go. Oh my god, what have we done!

To be continued.....

A Very British Day Out

There's nothing like a leaden sky, mist covered mountains and torrential rain to make you nostalgic for home. That, and the sudden smell of fish and chips. One of the big surprises for me was the number of chippies in NZ. They may be even more find of deep fried food stuffs that we are. 

Not that we have tried NZ's version of our national dish. Not yet anyway.

And what do the British do when the weather is not fit to send a dog out? Go for a walk obviously! So dressed from head to toe in Gore-tex we set off up the Franz Josef valley to take a panoramic look at the glacier we visited yesterday - we were originally planning to take the stiff hike up Alex Knob (no sniggering at the back!) but we decided that the weather was not conducive. Or at least we would've if the most hadn't been in the way. Still it was nice to stretch the legs. 

If nothing else it gave us an opportunity to take part in our other favourite outdoor pursuit - scoffing at other peoples poor clothing choices. Yes it may be a little high-handed but anyone who thinks that jeans, trainers, a vest and a bin liner is suitable attire for a walk in horrendous rain deserves it. And don't get me started on the guy in flip flops. Sheesh.

We also did the usual British thing and carried out lunch all the way only to eat it once we got back to the dryness of the car. It's the thought that counts. But there is something comforting about stripping off in the back seat, pulling on dry clothes, tucking into a picnic whils the windows steam and the rain pelts the car roof.

After drying off back at the hostel, that is where the comparisons with home ended; I don't think you can see real love Kiwis or dip in it glacial pools anywhere in the UK. Maybe I'm wrong and Cleethorpes have just opened such attractions.

Well I'd better go - the sun is coming out and there's a promise of a beer or two before we head further south tomorrow. And to compete the home from home day maybe it's time we tried the Kiwi fish and chips......

On The Rocks

When you're walking around on a glacier you constantly think about a nice gin and tonic on the rocks. Or is that just me? Mmmmm a nice cool and refreshing drink. But not whilst you're stomping around with twelve potentially deadly spikes fastened to each foot. 

Apart from a refreshing drink the only other thought in my head was Wow!! Yes it really does justify the second exclamation mark. It was that good. A third exclamation mark is forever be reserved for Maccarone's last gasp winner against Staua Bucharest. But that's football and this isn't. Where was I? Oh yes 2006 and Boro's remarkable run in Europe. Ooh it takes me back....

So today has been one long series of 'Wow!!'s

The first 'Wow!!' moment came with a ride in a helicopter, albeit for only five minutes, up a valley to a glacier. I've never been in a helicopter before - sure I have often imagined myself in the pilot's seat of Airwolf on my way to another daring rescue mission but actually being in the real thing, despite it lacking twin cannons and a whisper mode, was much much better.

And then we landed on the Franz Josef Glacier. Wow!! I have walked on a huge slab of ice before but that was a long time ago and for nowhere near as long as today. Sarah and I, and eight other lucky people, followed a guide up, over, and in some cases through the glacier. The ice features that we saw today are only temporary as the whole thing is slowly moving down the mountain; twisting, turning, cracking and melting as it goes. You get a real sense that it is a living, breathing thing.

Even horrendous rain and cold wind did not dampen the experience - besides we had another helicopter ride to enjoy. Getting into the helicopter, sodden and cold from being out on the ice for three hours, was a relief. 

'I'd like to say I bet your're glad to be out of the rain and in the dry', the pilot said before adding, 'but this thing leaks like a bugger!'

The second trip was even better as we swooped and banked over rivers and trees on our way back to town. Wow!!

We finished off the experience with a short film 'Flowing West' about the journey the ice makes from the mountains to the Tasman Sea. And and ice cream of course.

What a day. Oh, go on then.... Wow!!!

Strange Phenomenon

Blimey, today's drive was a long one. 480km to be precise, and like I've mentioned before, there is no direct route. I suppose it's the equivalent of driving from the North East to London but refusing to acknowledge that motorways exist. Can you imagine that? If so, add to that thought a constant stream of campervans of all sizes, serious hills and more twists than Chubby Checker at a 60s disco. Not that discos existed then. But imagine it anyway.

On a more positive note, the scenery was stunning and the conversation delightful. Well I would have to say that! Oh and if that gets back to Sarah I'll know where it came from. I'm looking at you Pauline! It also gave me an opportunity to consider a strange phenomenon that I have started to notice. It was imperceptible at first but, over the last few days certainly, it's something of which I have become increasingly aware. 

At first I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me but I'm sure it's actually happening. I believe that since arriving in New Zealand my clothes have been slowly shrinking. I know. It's astonishing. And very difficult to explain. Could it be the change in hemisphere? Does cotton behave differently down here? Surely not. Is the air pressure different here? Could that explain it? But I don't think so. I think it is the sun. All those hours sat outside bars and restaurants is clearly having an effect on my clothing. It's the only logical explanation. If I'm right then I hope the sun goes in sometime soon - any more shrinkage and I'm in danger of being arrested for indecent exposure. Damn the sun!

Hopefully tomorrow will help - we're heading up into the mountains from our current base in Franz Josef to take a walk on a glacier. That's bound to be colder and help rescue my dignity. And if it rains even better - which is a distinct possibility as Franz Joseph lies on the edge of the rain forest and gets 7m of rain per year. Yes metres!

But in the meantime I'll try and keep myself in the shade whilst I finish this bottle of Pinot Noir. 

 

Trouble with the Locals

I've had trouble with the locals this morning. Unexpected really but they blocked my path whilst I was out running. Have I told you how much I love running? I haven't? Well pull up a chair and I'll continue....

I love running. 

But there is more to it than just donning running shoes (don't call then trainers - it upsets me) and heading out. Yes at it's most simplistic that is what it is, but beyond being a great way to keep fit there is so much more. There's the freedom of being out, the pleasure of getting somewhere under your own power but above all that it takes you places that otherwise you wouldn't be.

Take my run this morning, for example. I headed out along the coastal track and I had the whole place to myself. Within just 4km I headed down through the 'bush' to arrive at a secluded bay. It was deserted and, judging by the lack of footprints, I was the first one to visit today. I plonked by bum on the sand and stared out to sea. 

At the risk if sounding all new-agey, it was a real soul cleansing experience. Alone. 

OK so I was only a short run away from civilisation but it was not too much of a stretch of the imagination to feel like a castaway. Except that wouldn't have been remotely funny - I only had a few jelly beans to eat and I'm not much of a fisherman. That would've been irrelevant anyway - I'd have gone mad well before I starved without a stable broadband connection!

But is was wonderful whilst it lasted. Which was about ten minutes as I was getting bored. There is only so much soul searching one can do before getting a little fed up. So it time to get back on track and head for home.

And that is where I ran into problems with the locals. I was just getting into my stride when I rounded a corner and saw them blocking the track. No amount of coercion or stern words would move them and allow me passage. It was a stale mate - I couldn't go back and they wouldn't move. 

I got closer to them, tentatively so as to not provoke them, but to no avail. Staring wasn't working either. They we clearly used to foreigners trying to bully their way along their track. Eventually they got fed up and stood aside whilst I gingerly passed them.

 

I completed the run at a somewhat slower pace in case I came across another bunch. 

My time for the 9km run was terrible but at least I got back. I did manage to take a sneaky photo of the perpetrators in case I needed to report them to the authorities. See for your self....

A Boxing Day Tramp

New Zealand must be one of th easiest places to visit. It's certainly the easiest place that we have been to.... if you ignore the 18,000km flight of course. But even that is relatively easy - I've had more stressful train journeys between York and Darlington. It's only time at the end of that day.

Anyway onto my point. New Zealand is such an easy place to visit. Firstly there are the New Zealanders themselves. Nothing is too much trouble. No worries. They genuinely, or at least that is the impression they give, seem to want you to have a good time. Then there are the the obvious similarities such as the driving on the same side of the road, cultural reference points and the widespread use of English. Ah, but that is where you come unstuck as there are some subtle differences.

Want a supermarket trolley? You can't get one, but you can get a supermarket trundler. I know. Want a job in a Highways department? Nope, but you can work in Roading. Where did that one come from? Then there is one of our favourite pastimes, hiking. Except in NZ it's called tramping. If I were to tell someone from the UK that I was 'looking for a good tramp' I would get an entirely different response. How about 'I really enjoyed the tramp'. Undoubtedly you would get a stunned look - probably followed by a visit from the local constabulary.

But today we enjoyed a good tramp in the forest. In fact it was one of New Zealand's classic tramps - along the AbelTasman  coastal path - with views across the bay, golden and secluded beaches and lush, green forest. 

Our lunch spot was particularly spectacular - we had the whole beach to ourselves, well except some rather nosey seagulls. 

Being one of the classic hikes, sorry tramps, it got busy on the return leg as people got over their Christmas hangovers and ventured out. But we were soon back in our hill top accommodation, far away from the trampers, and ready to settle down for Doctor Who. 

You can't beat a good tramp on Boxing Day. 

Merry Christmas from Paradise

Sometime in the past we became obsessed with lists; top ten this, top fifty that and the now ubiquitous '100 things you must do before you die' kind of list. These, above all of the others, are the worst of the worst. The top of the pile, if you allow me to continue the list theme.

But why? Well I find them to be smug, self serving and usually totally wrong. I know I'm probably over-reacting to this, but they really raise my hackles. I don't actually know what hackles are but when I see one of these lists, usually in the cheap section of a bookstore, they get raised and are pointed right at them baby. You know the sort '100 movies you must see before you die', '100 places you must see before you die' or '100 albums you must listen to before you cark it'. It's getting ridiculous. How about '100 lists of 100 things you just do before you die before you die'. Or something like that. Who are the authors to judge what things should be in the list? My list is different to your list which will be different to your friend's list. It's a personal thgn and so it should be. I know for a fact that their movie list won't include 'Midnight Run', 'The Party' or the quite frankly fantastic 'State and Main'. What? Exactly. And don't get me started on albums. I could bore for Britain on that one. And did for a year in a previous blog. But that was then and this is now.

Phew. Where was I? Oh yes lists. Well the latest craze in the categorisation of everything are Bucket Lists. Recognising that published lists are by their very nature impersonal the 'designers' of Bucket Lists spotted an ingenious way to correct the flaw. Get the end user to create their list. Magic. Horrendous. So now we are all expected to have a Bucket List of things we want to do, see, hear, taste or smell before we shuffle off. We are all doomed to failure before we start. We'll either never get through the list - seriously how are you supposed to arrange a snorkelling trip with Sigourney Weaver? - or even worse run out of things to do. Then what? Is your life over? I say stop beating yourself up and enjoy life. Do things or don't do things. It's up to you.

....but as we are on the subject I completed one of the the things that would of been on my list had I had one. Which I don't. But if I did, sitting on a beach on Christmas Day would've been on there. And before some smart Alec notes that I could've done this in the UK, I'll qualify it by adding 'without catching hypothermia or getting tangled up in discarded chip wrappers'.

And it was great. Christmas Day on a beach in the glorious sun. Shorts, flip-flops, sunburn the lot! As far as Christmas Days go it's been different; waking to bright sunshine, wearing shorts all day, wandering on the beach, lying in the sun and having salad for lunch. There were even people sunbathing in Santa hats. But I missed the 'traditional' Northern Hemisphere Christmas trimmings; tinsel, lights, roaring fires and of course family and friends. But for a one-off it's been great. Now could someone please pass me the hummus dip for my celery whilst I update my bucket list......

A Room With A View (or Two)

It is really surprising what a difference a short drive can make. This morning we left a flat plateau and within a few hours we were in the mountains once again. From dry semi-arid pastures to lush and green forest. Amazing.

We stopped several times on our three hour journey and at each stop people kept telling us just how busy it was at this time of year. Busy? Well according to them the shops were rammed, the roads were busy and there was just not enough time in the day to run all of the errands. Admittedly the roads were busier than they have been in recent days, the trickle of cars and wagons swelling into.... a little bit bigger trickle. It's simply not acceptable - we even had to slow down at one point behind a campervan. Tscchh. Busy in NZ terms is not the same as we understand it. 

I would agree though that the shops are busy. But not claustrophobically so, but definitely busier. Mind you, nowhere near as bad as the time we were in Morrisons in Wakefield on Christmas Eve several years ago. Along with seemingly everyone else from West Yorkshire. We grabbed a trolley and joined the river of people snaking up and down the aisles. The current was quite strong and we had no choice but to go with the flow. At one point I noticed that we'd just passed the tinned peas section and needed to go back. It was no use though as the river didn't want to stop or turn. I held out a hand in desperation, hoping to grab a corner of the tin but was carried downstream towards the sauces and condiments section. I failed and we had to spend the festive period pea-less. On a positive note, however, I did manage to grab a selection of mustards by way of compensation.

So there was a bit of push and shove in the shop this afternoon as we stocked up on Christmas food - you know the traditional salad ingredients, smoked salmon and fresh fruit - but nothing like the scrummage we have witnessed in the past.

Everything is laidback and low key. Which brings me onto our chosen accommodation for the next four days. It's absolutely awful. I don't know what we were thinking. Just take a look at the  photos below. How is anyone supposed to spend Christmas in a place like this? I know. Shocking. But we'll do the British thing and tough it out.

So after a couple of cups of tea we're off to a local beach-front restaurant for a meal, a glass or two of wine and a gaze out to sea. Have some pity for us - after all it is forecast to rain sometime in the next few days!

STOP PRESS: No sooner had I pressed 'Publish' when the skies darkened and we had rainfall of tropical proportions. Happy Christmas Eve everyone! 

Footwear Etiquette

The Kiwis have a flexible approach to footwear. Very flexible in some cases. And I'm not talking about the dreaded sandals and socks combo as that is the preserve of Englishman of a certain age and the French. No, what I'm talking about is a general 'anything goes' attitude to footwear. Even in December, their early summer, with temperature nudging mid-twenties I have seen people sporting anything from heavy leather boots to Converse boots to....  well bare feet. Going commando in the feet department is perfectly acceptable in NZ and it's not uncommon for people to wander around town centres or supermarkets with nothing on their feet. The thought of doing that in the UK makes me shudder. Firstly it's far too cold, even in the summer. Secondly there are far too many potential traps for the unsuspecting wanderer; broken glass, discarded kebab adornments and of course dog sh... Oh, the thought of putting a well manicured naked foot into a pile of warm, squidgy.... you get the picture.

But perhaps the most popular piece of footwear is the humble flip-flop. They are worn by almost everyone from beach goers to businessmen, young and old. And what a great common denominator they are - everyone can afford a pair and there is relatively nothing to distinguish one make from another. But as I'm writing this I'm sure Gucci are knocking out their designer version for those who are stupid enough to fork out the extra money for a logo and a self-satisfied expression

I've never seen the point of flip-flops really. Any bit of footwear that relies on the wearer having a big toe surely marks them out as being far too needy? As for grown men wearing them in town? Outrageous and as a punishment anyone found wearing them beyond the confines of the beach should have their aforementioned big toe removed. That'll teach them. I even saw one unfortunate sole sporting a pair on the way up a mountainside. I kid you not. OK so they may have been a good idea on the walk across the car park to the start of the walk but I wonder what state the individuals feet would've been in after two hours of walking downhill?  

But I have a confession to make. It's hard for me to admit bit I bought a pair of beach sandles today. Sorry. I don't want to try and justify the purchase other than to say that I was sick of having to remove tons of sand from my running shoes every morning - these are doubling up as beach wear at the moment - so some open toed footwear seemed to be the way to go. I'm blaming the heat. And maybe the proximity to the sea. Or both. I don't know. So there you have it.

Purchase of questionable footwear aside, it's been a great day here in Marlborough. Starting with a game of pétanque over breakfast, we then took a walk up a local range of hills, went on a wine tasting, picked some cherries and finally ended the day with a dip in the pool. Not bad for the 23rd December.

My new footwear really came into their own at the poolside - just popped them off when I got there as they were just as easy to slip on when I'd finished. Maybe that's the way to go? Would anyone object to flip-flops in the office? No? Sweet as!

Kia Ora to the South Island

A funny thing happened on the way to the airport. This funny stuff started falling out of the sky. It was kinda cold and everything that it touched turned wet...... I think it is called rain!

Thankfully it didn't last and by the time we got to the airport it had gone. But for a short while it was worrying.

So why the airport and not simply getting onto a ferry and taking the short crossing over Cook's Strait? Well I can't get on boats. Please note that's can't and not won't. If you catch my drift. Well I think I can't. It's not definitive but all things point to that being the case. You see, I'm fine whilst in the boat - in fact I'm bloody good on boats. Yes there was that one time when I was younger on a fairly lively crossing between Portsmouth and Cherbourg that didn't go well. But I got over it and I'm sure the fellow downwind of me has gotten over the mental scarring. So being on a boat doesn't bother me but getting back onto firm ground does - once I get back onto firm ground I feel like I'm still at sea. And it lasts weeks. My inner ear seems to go crazy and even simple tasks like ... well like walking in a straight line become a problem. I could stay at sea forever thus avoiding the problem but I don't really see that as a long term solution. Besides I don't like fish that much and I'd be lost without a reliable broadband connection. The whole wobbliness thing has happened three times, including once whilst still being docked, so now I do everything to avoid being on a boat. Hence the flying. 

And I'm getting a little bored of having to explain my aversion every time someone suggests we take a boat trip. Which in a country surrounded by water is a lot. Ahh well it could be worse - I could be allergic to crisps, alcohol and cake. Which would've pretty much ruined this evening.

The odd thing is that this never used to be a problem as was always fine on boats. Well except for a particularly lively Portsmouth to Cherbourg crossing on a family trip to Britanny. I was not well that time but I'm over it now and made a full recovery, as did I'm sure the chap who was downwind from me. With sufficient counselling.

After picking up the hire car, heading down the short but long road to the Marlborough region and after a 'light' lunch at a beach side cafe we arrived in Blenheim.

Staying the night in a wine making region, surrounded by grapes is an interesting prospect. I've never seen so many vines and as a result there are dozens (I think 34 to be precise) vineyards within walking distance. Well I say walking distance. If one were to try visiting them all then I don't think much walking would be possible. Not by the end at least - plus there is a real chance that it would bring on another bout of wobbliness!

Wellington

Blimey, Wellington is a lively little city. I appreciate that we arrived on the afternoon of the last Friday before Christmas but the bars and cafés in the city centre were heaving. Probably no more so than they would be at home but after the relative tranquility of Taupo it was all the more jarring.

If I wasn't sure if the term 'Black Eye Friday' had made it to the Southern Hemisphere before we hit town last night I am now - a bar fight broke out in one if the watering holes and then continued out the door and into the harbour area with the whole bar* emptying out to witness the spectacle. It was mint! 

But, this excitement aside, I've decided that cities are perhaps New Zealand's Achilles heel. They are nice, clean and have stunning backdrops but that's about it. Maybe that is enough for some, but when you compare them to the historical treasures of their European counterparts they inevitably come up short. I could be accused of demonstrating my European bias but it's a difficult feeling to shake.

But I suppose you don't come to NZ for the architecture or the human history. You come here for the stunning scenery. Cities provide an opportunity to restock, take some time out and to reorientate. And maybe that's their purpose?

That's not to say that Wellington, the countries capital, doesn't have a lot going for it - it's perfectly pleasant to spend a few hours wandering around the  harbour area, browsing the shops and maybe sipping a pint of craft beer. If you can find a spot out if the wind that is. And there is always the museums, parks and art galleries if you are that way inclined.

Me? Give me the great outdoors anyday of the week. Which is good because tomorrow we pack up and head over to the less populated South Island. I can't wait - I've had enough of urban life for the time being.

* most of the male contingent with the exception of the author!

The Long And Winding Road

Well actually the road between Napier and Wellington isn't that winding but most on the island are just that. The Romans clearly didn't get this far south but if they could of they would've had a field day here. But apart from roads what have the Romans ever done for us? 

When you ask a Kiwi how far is it between two places the answer invariably comes back as a time. A typical conversation would be thus;

"Where is the nearest petrol station?"

"Head out of town and after ten minutes you'll come to a set of traffic lights. Opposite the Coundown supermarket. Take a left here and head up the road for about five minutes and you'll see it. You can't miss it."

Or,

"How far is it from Napier to Wellington?"

"Oh, about four and a half hours. Five tops."

There are two reasons for this. Firstly is that the roads in New Zealand are not direct and so distances become almost meaningless. Add to this the tortuous bends, speed-sapping hills and predominately single carriageway and it's not difficult to see why a 60km journey can take nearly two hours.

Secondly, there is very little traffic. Apart from the major cities, there is hardly any hold ups. With the total population of the country running at around four million, two million of which live in Auckland, congestion is really not a problem. So distances between town, cities, bars or supermarkets can confidentially be quoted as a time. Sweet as, to quote a common phrase heard around these parts.

And it doesn't really matter how long a journey takes. With a country as beautiful as this, it is well worth taking the time and not rush to the destination. Sometimes it is how you get there that matters and not the final destination. Which is a good job because everything in New Zealand takes it's own sweet time. This is not a country in a hurry - which is a refreshing change from the rush and bustle in the UK. Sometimes.

Take supermarkets, for example. Here the checkout operator scans your purchases through the till and then packs then into a bag, whilst the shopper stands and watches. Each item is carefully placed into a bag before the next is scanned or weighed. It takes an absolute age and you can only begin to picture the look on my travelling companion's face during the whole process. It's a nice thought for them to pack bags but I can't help think that Kiwis must have better things to do with their time than stand around at supermarket checkouts.

The journey today was still a 'long' way and so needed a mid-point break, for the loo if nothing else. Typically we'd passed numerous opportunities; cafés, supermarkets etc. before we decided, or rather our bladders, that we needed to stop. As soon as it became apparent that his was the case, the opportunities dried up. Unlike our bladders. Mile after mile of countryside rolled by but not even a sniff of rest room. Where had they all gone? We could have course popped into a steam engine museum, spoke to someone about buying a reliable ram to impregnate our flock of ewes or bought a much needed avocado (2 for 1$ if you are interested). But no toilet. Then, just as things were turning decidedly painful, not to mention potentially messy, we passed a hand written sign with the magical words 'Cafe next left'. Saved....

....except not quite. What the sign failed to convey to the passing motorist was that, whilst the next left was the correct turning, it wasn't exactly 'handy'. So after several kilometres, sorry fifteen minutes, of bouncing down the equivalent of a farm track we decided to turn back.... just as the cafe homed into view. Fantastic. Although it didn't look much from the outside we were desperate. 

Our worries were thankfully all for nought as the cafe, particularly the view from the patio, was worth the detour. And it had a working toilet. Heaven.

Refreshed, refuelled and emptied we were soon on our way once more. Next stop Wellington....

The Value of First Impressions

A wiseman once said... well actually I don't know if he was a man. OK so a wise person once said... I'm not that sure he was widely known as being wise... OK so someone once said... I'm probably being pedantic but I can't really say for sure if it was said or written. This was not how I planned the introduction of this blog. Let me try again...

A person, man or woman, who may or may not have been wise once was heard to say or have written that "you learn something new every day if you pay attention". Actually I'm not even sure if that was the quote. Forget I mentioned it. But if that quote was true then today I have been doubly successful - I've learnt two new things today. 

The first of which is that first impressions can be misleading. We arrived into Napier at around mid-day a little tired from the drive and a lot tired from the previous nights' celebrations. It was busy, windy, we couldn't find a lunch spot, had to pay for parking (the first time since arriving!) and everything was just too hard. And when we did find a lunch spot, the food was decidedly average (again a first since we arrived in NZ). We ate up and the trudged back to the car. What had we done? Why did we come to Napier? Was this the first mistake? 

We did the only sensible thing; found our accommodation and went to sleep. At 2pm. It was lovely, refreshing and just what we needed. When we ventured out again into Napier it was a totally different place; less busy, the wind had dropped, the sun was shining and we had more time, or rather inclination, to just meander. Our opinion changed. Napier is a lovely town. The bulk of it was destroyed in an earthquake in 1931 but rather than abandon the town, which was the preferred option for some observers, they decided to rebuilt it. And rebuild it they did. Wanting to make it the most modern city in the world they chose the Art Deco style of architecture and the results are really refreshing. So two years later they had a brand new and ultra modern looking city. Impressive. 

So first impressions can be misleading. If we'd turned around and left town rather than bedding down we would've missed out. So if anyone tells you the Napier is a bit of a dump, cut them some slack - they're probably just tired and a little hungover.

The other thing? Be selective where you wear a t-shirt with a bands name on it. Three people have asked me if I play in the band and have been a little disappointed when I told them the that I didn't. I could understand one person making the mistake but three? What is all that about? Why was the t-shirt so fascinating? Do they assume that anyone in a football replica shirt plays for that team? Judging by the physique of some of those modelling replica footy tops, probably not. Maybe I should've lied and told them I was the lead singer and was on a world tour. Risky. I'd have been exposed as a fraud if they asked me for a rendition but then again I might've got a couple of free drinks out of it.....

Time in Taupo

I think I have finally cracked it! After many unsuccessful attempts, dozens in fact, I have sorted it. It may not sound significant but I now know the best order in which to apply lotions. Don't laugh, I'm serious. It's been a problem.

The problem, for me at least, in being in a warm place is the amount of gunk I have to apply. I get up in the morning, have a shower and then apply moisturiser, insect repellent, bite cream and sun block. But not necessarily in that order. By the time I'm finished I'm no longer clean and more than a little worried about the amount of chemicals covering my exposed skin. How do I know that they won't react with one another and turn me into a walking WMD. The last thing I need is a UN weapon instep for crawling all over me. Has every combination been tested though? It's a worry. If I'm not a risk to the public at large then what is that stuff doing to my skin? Will I wake up in the morning to find myself a strange hue of blue? 

Anyway so far nothing has happened other than becoming a magnet for sand. The other day, after applying another lotion layering system, I went onto the beach only to have the wind whip up the sand and send it in my direction. I resembled a human piece of sandpaper or some strange performance artist. 

Anyway, since you asked, the preferred layering arrangement is; anti-histamine cream then moisturiser, sunblock and finally insect repellant. Just don't go near any beaches, or builders merchants for the matter.

But that was not the point of today's travel blog - I just had to get that off my chest. No today we have been staying with some friends in Taupo and it has been wonderful - particularly getting the low down about life in New Zealand whilst getting some tips about customs. For example a Fluffy is not an item of clothing but is instead a 'flat white' without the coffee. Essentially a milky drink. But who knew? Anyway it was great. No better then that.

We also managed to cram in a visit to another thermal area. I still can't get used to the fact that the earth behaves this way. Yes I have read it on text books bit to see it up close and personal.... well it is unreal. And unsettling. What we think as solid earth isn't really all that solid. Boiling mud, sulphur pools and jets if steam are not something that the earth should be doing. 

Well that's me from Taupo. Tomorrow we move on again towards Napier. Back to the sea. Oh and back to the sand. Hhmmmm, maybe I need to review my lotion layering system.....

The Hills Are Alive....

....but it's not with the sound of music.

I consider myself to be a fairly well prepared mountain hiker. I take all the sensible precautions. Sure I have maybe stretched the safety envelope from time to time but generally speaking I'm careful. So I take waterproof clothing to protect against rain and wind, I always wear sunblock in the summer, I carry sufficient water, pack a first aid kit and always know where I'm going with the use of a compass and a map. There is always a risk that something unexpected could happen but I can hold my head high and say 'well I gave it my best shot'.

But today.... well today I was presented with a risk that I just didn't know how to prepare against. And that was what to do if the volcano we were about to walk across decided to erupt. Yes erupt! Angry cows or belligerent farmers I can deal with but exploding mountains? OMG! 

What does one do if presented with an erupting volcano? Well the perceived wisdom on this is.... I kid you not.... to run in the opposite direction as fast as you can. And that's it. I don't think I needed to be told that. It's common sense really. Only an idiot would run towards an erupting volcano, and if they did they wouldn't be an idiot for long. Maybe, in the heat if the moment, some people get confused and run towards the hill spitting out molten rock. Maybe. But I doubt it. You find me, should this occur, knocking down anyone in front of me - women and children included - to get as far away as I can. But as volcanic ash can travel up to 100mph I don't think I would get too far. My 10k time might be impressive to some but it ain't no match for a mountain on fire.

So today's hike, or tramp if you want to use the local vernacular, was the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. That sounds innocuous enough. Nothing to worry about there. What isn't immediately clear is that a bit portion of the 20km walk will be across an active volcano. Let's repeat that. An. Active. Volcano. WTF!

To say that fact helped quicken the progress gives you an idea of just how real the threat was. We walked a little quicker and had less 'take in the view' breaks. The route was actually very busy - obviously plenty of people wanting to go out with a bang around these parts. 

It was quite disconcerting walking across a landscape that was venting sulphurous steam. Apparently this is normal. Normal? Where I come from mountains generally don't vent sulphurous gas. They usually leave that to the humans!

 

Thankfully today was not the day that Mount Ngauruhoe decided to have a geological sneeze. Phew. Well there's always tomorrow.

An Awesome Day

Awesome is a word that is seriously overused - and you could make a valid comment that there was nowhere where this was more prevalent than in NZ. But it is overused everywhere around the globe.

"That pizza was awesome"

"How was the coffee?"

"Awesome"

"Isn't Brad Pitt* awesome!"

* substitute for any celebrity you feel must appropriate.

Awesome is everywhere and maybe the use of that word is valid. But what does that leave us with? Where do we go when something really catches our imagination? When we are awe struck? If a pizza or a hot beverage can be 'awesome' then how do we express our state of being when something really.... errr..... well awesome crosses our path? You see - it's a problem.

Well I can truly say that the things I saw this afternoon were awesome. But not in a pizza way but in a huge, fascinating, mesmerising and quite simply wonderful way. On our journey from Coronandel to Taupo we called in at a site if geological interest. Wait! Before you all bugger off to more interesting pages on the internet just take a look at the images below. How can this be? They are not if this world yet for only £15 you can walk on the surface if another planet without the hassle of having to don a space suit and bother with injections. Pools bubble, mud plops and steam drifts over the landscape leaving a sulphurous trail. It's not of this world yet it's 20km from a major town. You can't help wonder how can this be? If the water started to bubble in the UK you'd assume that someone had dumped soap powder upstream. Either that or the national pea eating team champions had gone for a celebratory swim.... Sorry. But you see where I'm going with this. 

New Zealand is a mass of geological goings on. Sorry if that was a bit technical but stick with it. Even as I type I  sat in a friends back garden (he isn't here but we let ourselves in so to speak - that's a whole different story) which happens to be on the largest active volcano in the world. It's only a matter oif time before the whole thing goes and the rose bushes get pelted into orbit along with the lawn, garden furniture and patio heater. It's due. In fact it's about 100 years late. Fashionably late if you like. 

But the scale is so huge that there is absolutely no point in worrying about it. Why bother? If it goes, it goes. And everyone here will have a ringside view. Ok so it would mean the end of life as we know it but it would be truly awesome!

Road to Ruin?

There are some things that we take for granted in the UK. If course we all have a moan from time to time about how crap it all is, about how nothing works properly and about just how poor the state the roads are in. And in many cases we are right. Many but not all. 

But I have yet to hear anyone say a bad word about our road signs. Sure, we may not like the message but there is no denying their accuracy. And anyone who suggests otherwise can meet me in the car park around the back for a good talking to.

If I was in any doubt (which I wasn't) then today's exploits would've dispelled any such thoughts. So far, sudden pant-wetting braking incidents aside, travel in New Zealand has been uneventful. In a good way. 

Today we decided to travel to Coromandel - it was only 40km or so away - so it should've been a relatively easy journey. Turning onto route 309, and taking the mist direct route to our destination , we were presented with a road sign informing us that the route was steep, winding and a bit gravelly. The sign was right in the first two instances but the third? A BIT GRAVELLY!! The entire 22km was essentially off road. To be fair there were short sections of Tarmac surface. About 300m in total. It was dusty, slow, winding, steep, up, down with vertiginous drops. So 'a bit gravelly' was a understatement to end all understatements. In a cheap hire car it was not fun. A bit gravelly indeed.

To add to the fun we got a puncture. Yes a puncture. Totally flat. As a pancake. Yes it could've happened anywhere but after ten miles on a gravel road in a budget hire car something was bound to give. The whole experience would've a lot more traumatic if it weren't for the helpful locals. And that in itself is so typical of this place - everyone bends over backward to help you out. Quite literally in the case of the chap who crawled under the car to help find the hacking point. 

Anyway within minutes of us stopping, and one tyre change in the searing sun later we were on our way.

What we travelled on for almost a tortuous hour was not a road. Hell it wouldn't even have qualified for a forest track in the UK. And the sign? Well I'd like to think that in the UK we'd have been a bit more descriptive. Maybe with a diagram. And a red triangle.

Thankfully out destination was well worth it. Coromandel Town is a stunning place -  gold frontier town meets coastal resort. Full of quirky tea shops, craft type places and all in the style of a gold panning town. South Pacific meets Colorado. And a huge slab of cake and a cup of tea was just what we needed after that journey. For once the excuse was genuine. 

Stop press: The moonlight on the sea tonight is amazing. It looks like a movie set. It's that good. 

On the Beach

II would love to be able to see the sea from my bedroom window. There is something reassuring about it. Ever present, reliable - you could set your watch by it.

Equally I have the utmost respect for sailors who left the comfort yet confinement of the land and set out on voyages of discovery. It was either extreme bravery or foolhardiness. One such son of the north east made his name in these parts and reminders of this are scattered around. Captain Cook, with  the crew of his ship The Endevour, travelled from England to what is now known as New Zealand.

So I spent a large part of the day staring out to sea, beyond the people swimming in the shallows of the South Pacific, far towards the horizon. Just spending time spending time if you catch my drift.

It hasn't all been relaxing though. Oh no. Before breakfast we joined a handful of other people and ran up and down the beach, looking for all the world like lunatics who couldn't make up their minds where they were heading. What the run lacked in both distance and variety it made up for in sheer splendour. Probably worth the 36,000km round trip alone. Follow that up with a walk across the cliff tops to Cathedral Cove and you have a pretty full day. Even in a so called 'lazy day' we still clocked in nearly 14k. 

So after all that excitement I've returned to my sea gazing. And wondering what it must've been like for a young man from Cleveland setting sail across the oceans in search of his destiny.  Not bad for a Smoggie.

Choices, choices

It's fortunate that I'm flexible. I consider it to be one of my best qualities. You see when I woke up this morning I'd decided that I was going to write about running in new places - that was even before our run this morning along the harbour front in Auckland. I get a great buzz from running in new places, particularly cities, as it's a great way to get to know somewhere. The run this morning was fantastic; warm but not too hot, great views over the harbour and the feeling of being part of the city as it wakes up.

But that changed when we picked up the hire car. I then decided to ditch the subject of running  and instead write about the 'joys' of driving in a foreign country. I was going to mention the problems we had finding the handbrake in a hire car in Italy (there wasn't one!), the time Sarah directed me into the World Heritage area in Florence (where cars were banned and we picked up a not insubstantial fine) or the wisdom of driving on the other side of the road whilst jet lagged and a little disorientated (I don't think we have quite got over the stressful night-time journey from Denver Airport to Boulder and I guess neither has the driver if the vehicle who was faced with an impromptu game of 'chicken'). But the journey today was uneventful with the exception of a couple of times when I tried to propel Sarah through the car windscreen. Why we chose an automatic car I'll never know, but I do know that pressing the brake pedal as if it were a clutch when travelling at 70mph is very exciting! Especially for the passenger. 

So that was my second option. And it would've been the final one had we not been presented with the view below when we arrived at our destination. 

There is something magical about the ocean. Whether it's the seemingly endless opportunities that lie over the horizon or the soothing sound of waves crashing on the beach I'm not sure. Either way I'll never tire of just sitting, watching and listening. It helps that the sun is shining and I've got a glass of wine in my hand, but it could equally be windy, raining and a cup of warm tea. It would still be magical. I think we're going to enjoy our few days in Cathedral Cove.

A Strange Feeling.....

Something has been bothering me today and for a while I couldn't put my finger on it. It was starting to bug me. Like a fly banging against the lamp shade when you're trying to sleep. Trying to ignore it wasn't working. But what was it? It certainly wasn't the city. Auckland is probably one of the best capitals I've visited. Clean, friendly, green and beautiful. No litter, graffiti or dog.... well you know. 

Taking the walk up to Mount Eden, an extinct crater of a hill on the outskirts of the city, certainly reinforces just how pretty this city is and gives you a 360 degree view of the capital and it's beautiful surroundings. A lot like Oslo. Certainly sitting here on the waterfront, watching the world go by and listening to the best 80s pop had to offer is very reminiscent of Aker Brygge. But what's bothering me? It's not the beer - a local IPA for those who are interested. It's not the company or the fact that it's a beautiful summer's evening..... wait! That's it! It's summer and it's December! 

I shouldn't be sat in shirt sleeves at night watching the world go in December. Where's the rain, cold wind, people in thick coats, hats and gloves? Where are the shoppers heading home, collars up to protect against the bone chilling damp? It's missing. And I miss it. Well a little.

Looking back, the feeling started this morning when I spotted a Christmas tree, complete with tinsel and baubles, in one of the town squares whilst I was applying suntan lotion. A Christmas tree that was drenched in sunshine. It's not natural. Then there were other things; a guy in a Santa hat selling ice cream, Christmas songs playing in the park whilst locals sunbathed and Santa adornments on shopping arcades in the blazing heat. It knocked me off my axis. My northern hemisphere upbringing told me this was wrong.

Ah well. I'll just have to try and get used to it. Maybe another beer will help? If not it'll certainly take the edge off my sunburn!

Half A World Away

Of course it's a matter of perspective but arriving in Auckland did feel like arriving at the other side if the world. Maybe it was the sheer length of flight time that gave this impression? Or could it be just that it really is a long way from anywhere?

Yet for the weary and ever so slightly jet lagged traveller, one whose clothes are starting to become self-aware, things are different but slightly familiar at the same time; speaking the same language and driving on the right side of the road certainly helps. 

First impressions are always important. For instance you can tell a great deal from the nature of the customs officers. They are very revealing about the country as a whole. Of course I'm generalising here. Well just a little bit....

For example, the Austrian customs officers, in my experience, are officious so you never quite shake off the feeling that you are not entirely welcome. New York immigration control? Brusque and direct. Even our own are a little stand-offish. You're never going to get a welcoming hug and a kiss on the cheek from a customs officer but a smile and a 'Welcome home' wouldn't go amiss. 

New Zealand, on the other hand, couldn't have been friendlier. We actually had a chat with the border control chap. A proper conversation. OK so it was about sewer engineering but you have to start somewhere! I think we are going round for dinner a week on Tuesday.

Even the bio-control desk had a bit of a laugh and joke with us. Finding a seed in the tread of a running shoe in Austria would have probably got you shot. Not here. What followed was a conversation about the relative merits of shoe sole design, a bit of a joke about why did I feel it necessary to bring quite so many pairs and then a thorough clean of the offending shoes. Impressive, they look brand new and left me regretting that I didn't bring more pairs. It's a long way to come but if you want any shoes cleaning this is definitely the place to come! The whole experienced screamed 'Welcome to New Zealand - have a great time!'.

And so we do. And will. And with that we took a taxi to our hotel, marvelled at the unusual parking lot, and fell fast asleep.

Somewhere in the Desert

So here's the thing. Where am I? Or perhaps more accurately, when am I? You see that's the problem with this jet setting lifestyle, my head tells me that it's 08:41 whereas my body is screaming it 04:41 you fool! Get back to sleep! And that's not all, at our destination today the time is 17:42. Oh, make that destination tomorrow. So somewhere between here and there, or is that now and then? Oh I don't know. Anyway we're going to have lose nine hours. I hope they're not useful ones. I might've needed them!

Sheer lunacy. 

Come Fly With Me

Air travel. One of the wonders of the modern age, making trips that would've been once impossible, possible. At least that's what the blurb on the adverts proudly announce. 

That may be true, but the thought of spending the next 18 hours cooped up in an metal can doesn't seem that wonderful. Not yet anyway. There are too many hours ahead. 

There are some that relish the thought of this mode of transport. The free food, free drinks, in-flight entertainment and the articles about crochet in the in-flight magazine. Me? Well it's just a bit boring isn't it? Give me a train anyday of the week. Admittedly it would be quite hard to get to New Zealand by train. It's a long way and the route would be a little on the damp side. 

I blame scientists. Where the hell is teleportation? Shouldn't that have arrived by now? Mind you they must be behind programme as we haven't had the other high tech promises; jet packs, flying cars or edible pot noodles. It'll arrive someday. But if it did would you trust it? Can you imagine Ryanair being left in charge of your atoms? Blimey, they struggle to get a single bag to the correct destination so goodness knows what they'd destruction the cause with their hands on millions of your atoms. You'd probably arrive at your chosen destination whilst your left leg was whizzed off to the opposite side of the world. Imagine the inconvenience? Me neither. 

And that's before you factor in the extras. Can you imagine the hassle of having to pay extra to have BOTH arms beamed to your destination. It'd make saving money an interesting prospect. Which appendage could you happily enjoy a holiday without?

Ok I'm rambling. I know. But I've got a lot of time to kill. That's what you do in airports isn't it. Kill time. Right, one more wander around duty-free before we board. There's at least one eau-de-toilette I haven't tried. Although I think one more might take me chemical critical mass.

Flying. One of the wonders of the modern age? Maybe, but there's someway to go yet!

Everything But The Kitchen Sink

How do you pack for a four week holiday? It's an absolute nightmare. What makes it worse is that I've no idea what to expect. Sure, if we were heading to the Bahamas for the duration it'd be easy. Shorts and t-shirts galore. Simple. Equally, if we were heading to northern climes you'd just have to pack every item of warm clothing that you owned. But with New Zealand....... well it's not as clear cut. So everything is going in. All eventualities catered for; from tropical heat to sub zero mountain tops. Monsoon to dessert. And boy it soon adds up to a whole lotta stuff.

Maybe I should've cut back on the number of pairs of shoes. Maybe. But I think that two pairs of running shoes, one pair of walking boots, a pair of approach shoes (handy for.... well you know... approaching things) and the all-important slippers is cutting it to the bone as it is. And then there is the gadgets. I'm still not convinced that an iPhone, iPad, eReader, GPS and a PS Vita is enough tech to keep me occupied on the long flight to the Southern Hemisphere. And with each one is a different charger. Don't get me started on chargers. Surely it is not beyond the wit of designers to agree on one type and stick to it? For goodness sake! And even though each one has been carefully rolled up and placed in my bag I just know that when I unpack them they will have somehow tied themselves in knots and resemble an explosion in a spaghetti factory rather than the organised hold-all that it currently is. At least it'll give me something to do for the next four weeks.

Hold-all? Well not quite. But I've done my best and have got most of the essentials in. Admittedly I had to jettison the idea of packing my guitar - due to lack of space but not lack of trying. Ah well. It'll have to do. New Zealand here we come. Hhmmmm. Should I pack some leads, effects pedals and plectrums just in case.....