Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Aotearoa Part III - Glaciers


The next leg of our journey took us into Glacier country.  This is the home of Mount Cook and the Franz Josef & Fox glaciers. We stayed at a nice campsite in town but surrounded by lush rainforest. Yes ladies and gentlemen, a rainforest in town! Gotta love this country. This campsite was the location of my first shower after three days of humming and as that hot water cascaded onto my grubby bod I felt reborn.  The simple things really are glorious!
 
As the kids were too young we could not take them onto the glacier for an ice hike which was a shame. The only way to get onto the mountain and see the whole glacier was by taking a helicopter up to the top, 5000 odd feet off the ground for a ten minute play in the snow. Needless to say the price was tasty when I reserved it but we had come all the way and I really wanted the kids to see the glacier up close, not just from the front.
 
That said, the two hour walk to the front of the glacier was extraordinary. It has cut such a huge chasm that the valley walk was incredible. Sadly the ice is receding significantly like most of my male friends' hairlines. However, unlike them the poor glacier can't comb its hair forward to hide the fact so it is just receding its way back up the mountain side.
 
On the morning of our flight which was booked for 10am we woke to find the weather drizzly and the cloud very low. I had a bad feeling we would not be flying. I was right. The weather here is so changeable and apparently helicopters can't fly and land if it's cloudy, rainy dopey or grumpy.
 
By 4pm we were fairly despondent when we were turned away again even though the weather seemed to be brightening but the choppers weren't landing. Finally over the course of the day and four reschedules later we finally took to the air at 6.20pm. It was worth the wait. 


I have been in a helicopter before but a big chinook style thing when I was in combat in Vietnam (going to the Scilly Isles) but had never been in a normal bubble copter before. It was one of the most thrilling things I have ever done. The kids and I were as excited as those women who follow Benedict Cumberbatch around the world to see him on chat shows. We were actually whooping clapping and jumping up and down and shouting "oh my god... oh my god" much like those sad pathetic women do, ahem, I mean those loyal fans of his do, as we headed to the helicopter. It was the complete manifestation of being unable to contain oneself. When on earth did I last whoop?
 
Anyway it was just fantastic and landing on the top of this empty mountain covered in deep powdery snow with the most amazing views was other worldly. The real joy was the kids' faces. And I certainly had face ache by the time we got back from smiling so much.
 
Unfortunately my face changed after we returned to camp and on my camera going round the kids who wanted to see the photos, I found my one video that I took as the copter took off from the mountain and flew back down over the glacier had vanished. After much jumping up and down shouting "oh my god .... oh my god" and no whooping I found out my youngest had deleted it because "he didn't like his face in it". I was so upset. I still am. I hadn't even watched it. I know I experienced it but I am getting old forgetful and dense and really wanted that memory on film.
 
That night the children wanted to sleep above the drivers' cab which is accessed with a ladder. They are probably a bit too young but we thought it would be okay. My husband asked who we should put at the open end as they were more likely to fall out and hurt themselves. It was an easy choice.
 
Tomorrow we have a five hour drive south to Lake Wanaka and the time has come for some dirty work before we leave. My husband said that he would do all the driving, sort out the gas, electricity and water refills along with all the other drudge jobs if I empty the toilet waste in the morning. This is probably fair given I filled it the most with about five nervous excitement wee's before our helicopter flight.
 
It is beginning to honk in there too so the time has come. I have to say I am less offended by the smell of ones deposits than I am by the stink caused when they combine with the chemicals in the waste container. It really makes your toes curl.
 
I might make Arthur empty it tomorrow as punishment for deleting my video but he is such a klutz he will just end up dropping it and probably staining his whole body with blue loo. 


Next Week: New Year's Eve

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

Aotearoa Part II - Campervanning


Campervanning is a fab experience. I was tiring of villa holidays in Europe not because of the locations which were wonderful but just having to shop, clean and cook on holiday thereby making it feel not like a holiday at all. 

I have to say I don't mind cooking or cleaning or washing up in our campervan and I think it is because it's so small and such a novelty. Everything is so compact and neat and there is always that slight element of surprise. Will the sink drain? Won't it drain? Will I have to empty it with a saucepan? What is that smell? Isn't incredible how this broom just clears up all the grit and dust in seconds making for clean feet in the camper. It all just adds the fun into the functionality of chores. 

Furthermore, one of the most interesting quotes of our holiday came from my husband that could only have been asked if we were in a campervan and sitting high off the road. "I know it's a weird thing to say but I am so desperate to know what all this road kill is?"

Admittedly, it has been awhile since we have roughed it even a little. Days and days of no showers and long drop public toilets have been long gone from our recent holidays but I have to say the Kiwi management of their campsites from the most sophisticated to the most basic is just outstanding.
 
As with anything dangerous like negotiating a crevasse or crossing a rickety bridge on a mountain pass or a public porta potty the key bit of advice is don't look down. You always do and regret it but the advice holds true. Yet these potties have all been clean, have ample loo paper and some a hand foam dispenser, full of antibacterial hand foam. I mean, this is luxury in my book.
 
We are only staying at a few proper campsites and are mostly using the very basic DOC (Dept. of Conservation) sites which have no facilities other than said scheisse shack but are in areas of stunning natural beauty which we prefer. We are breaking up our trip with three to four days of scruffing it to one day at a well-appointed campsite where we can shower, use electricity and check Facebook. You know... essentials.
 
So far the DOC sites have been fantastic although it has been an adjustment becoming a campervanner. Given I hate most people and my husband hates everyone caravanners and campervanners have tended to score high up on our despicable you list given they take up the whole road and pootle along and don't give way.
 
Anyway now we have become those we hate has made my poor husband riddled with the guilt of hypocrisy and paranoia. I am quite comfortable with hypocrisy so couldn't care less but he has turned into a nervous meerkat constantly moving over to give way on the roads and poking his little head out to ensure he isn't obscuring some tenting campers view. It has made him nervous and as he hates people who campervan, being one of these folk for 12 days has actually turned him into a guilt ridden considerate person.  Well, to other road users and campers. Let's not go crazy and assume it is to all mankind.
 
I take his point. Campervans are a blight. As convenient, wonderful and fun as they are and ideal for a hassle free camping style holiday with long drives, in New Zealand where the vistas are so dazzling, the last thing you want is to be sitting in your nicely camouflaged tent staring at the mountains when some schmuck in a Winnebago parks in front of it. 


Next Week: Glaciers

Wednesday, 14 January 2015

Aotearoa Part I


I never set out to make this blog a travel one. After all it's bad enough having to sit through 300 photos of heather and pebbles (I took pictures of pebbles on a beach and then realized it looked like a Microsoft screen saver so deleted it) from someone's holiday and then have to listen to some epic commentary on how chuffing wonderful it was.

I lie.  I love listening to people's enthusiasim for their holidays and every time I think my bucket list is getting shorter a friend shares photos and stories from their travels and I get all excited and have to add another country to my list. I still have a lot of places I want to go to before I die so I had better not die or I will be very cheesed off.

Anyway I appreciate a blog on our trip around the South Island of New Zealand is not really for everyone. But if you do fancy a few little anecdotes from our travels but don't have two days to spare to read it I am breaking it into six parts like Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit combined plus bonus material to be shared over the next few weeks. This provides an ample break between the trilogies x two or the sixologies if that's a word as well as ensures a regular product output from me without having to come up with original content. Win win!

Hope you enjoy it!


What can one say about the South Island of New Zealand. Words honestly fail me. It is breathtakingly beautiful. 

The best way to describe New Zealand is in the vernacular of a Surrey teenager " it was like .... Oh my god ..... Just like ..... Ah..mazing .... I mean ... Like .... Seriously .... Just oh ... My .... God". 

I really cannot put it any better than that, I'm afraid.

Our first stop after flying into Christchurch on the east coast was to then drive back over where we flew to the west coast via Arthur's Pass.  A stunning cut through the Southern Alps. I have included my first holiday photo below just to give you an idea of why Tabitha de FieldHockey Delavigne's description was so apt. 



Given my sons name is Arthur and he was so tickled by the fact such a famous part of the South Island was named after him we desperately wanted to take a photo of him standing in front of an Arthur's Pass sign, ideally with his head obscuring the 'p'. 

There is a fifteen kilometre stretch within Arthur's pass where the weather suddenly turns from fairly warm and sunny to bitterly cold windy and wet and it is quite a shock given you were in shorts and flip flops a few minutes before. As Crowded House rightly said, there are four seasons in one day. What they should have also told you in that song is you also need four seasons clothing in one day or you are going home without one of your toes.

The other characters of great interest in the sub alpine range of Arthur's Pass are the Kea bird. A noisy alpine parrot that has developed quite a reputation as a kleptomaniac. I read about them prior to arriving and assumed them to be the size of a budgie. I nearly fell over when one swooped over my head. These birds are closer in size to a barn owl but more menacing. They are quite beautiful to look at with their brown green and red plumage but they are unshakeable in their persistence. No amount of shooing or hand waving is going to get rid of them. We were warned not to leave anything outside our campervan as hikers have often woken the next morning to find all that's left of their boots is a bit of shredded laces. They have very sharp strong beaks and can remove all the rubber off of the outside of your car.

So while quite sweet they are considered a menace. They are also fairly threatening given they cannot be shooed. They stand in very close proximity and stare at you with a cold cold look and say "I think you and I both know that it is time for you to rack off now because I am going to take that jam sandwich and your Milky Way. I might even come inside and take that marinating lamb chop out of your fridge. And you are going to let me because if you don't I will peck you. I will peck you hard ..... bitch".

Pardon my French. We have had to take a break from the fourth season of Breaking Bad to come on his holiday so I am struggling a little with being unable to feed my addiction to a show about cooking meth. Oh the irony. But irrespective of the Pinkman profanity the parrot did say that. Direct quote.


Next Week:  Campervanning