We stood the airbed up against the wall as usual, the only difference this time was the next time we went to bed it would be our own.
No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~Lin Yutang
It was Saturday, our final day. We were sad.
Today promised to be busy though, lots of visitors and stuff.
Lunch was to be a bbq mastered by that renowned Australian barbyneur Trev Sir Loin. Head of Salads, Nicole Pearcesnip and all round muncher Nick Three Bellies In attendance.
Sirloin or Australian Porterhouse steaks along with three or four varieties of sausage, including Polish Kransky, Jacks favourite, were on the menu. A salad featuring mixed leaves, feta, cucumber, tomato and roasted pine nuts accompanied the carnivores feast.
Appetites sated, we sat around discussing topical issues, predominantly immigration and demography. Jack is well read on these matters and it’s very interesting to hear his take on things, same as my own actually.
Debbie is Trevors’ sister, and today she is a year older than she was yesterday.
Seems to be a tradition down here to have your birthday cake somewhere other than your party place. It’s a nice way to share your day with more people.
Today our dear new friends Jack (Immigration dept) and Thelma, Trev and Debbies’ parents are over to share the cake.
Obviously after we munch our way through the barby.
Debbies three children although hardly little anymore where here to help with eating the cake. Huddo and Yvonne, childhood friends, and Max and Jack their children are here also.
It was enjoyable to have a bit of social intercourse with the family. All the same, yet all so different.
Debbie is a peach.
Expressive by gesture and tone, the mark of a legendary thespian.
Don’t you know?
Without doubt, one of the most interesting people we met on our travels.
Oh well.
All good things come to an end.
We’d some travelling to do.
Our bags had been packed earlier as a joint effort. Weight distributed evenly, fragile things well wrapped and hidden among clothing. Patches, both for eyes and arms, medications, sleeping tablets, all the accoutrements we’d need. All safely in hand luggage for the twenty six hours of travel.
I’m feeling a sense of relief to be going home.
We left a little early for the airport. It would give Nicola and Trevor a chance to catch up with the party goers at Debbies birthday bash.
Farewells made, kisses kissed we bade the pair goodbye. If I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s this. And I should try to make it into some profound saying.
Never watch your loved ones disappear, instead look forward to being with them again.
Hey that’s not bad. Says it all.
Nicola and Trevor went partying, we went duty freeing.
God I hate airports.
Our flight was called. On our way.
We ascended into the night sky. “Oh dear” I thought. “Trapped in this tin can for fourteen and a half hours. Divine”
Will I get any sleep? No!
When the attendants came round with water, drink, food, whatever, I took it. I tried to see how long it would take to do something. Whether it drink a beer, eat dinner, whatever.
Sometimes I timed it in minutes and other times in distance travelled. To make life more interesting, I even alternated between measuring in metric and imperial!
The fasten seatbelt sign came on a few times. The driver announced it would get a bit bumpy. More of those potholes I believe.
It never did though, get bumpy I mean.
Flying is not a problem for me. I enjoy being up in the air.
Don’t forget, you can’t get hurt up there, it’s only the contact with the ground or water does the hurting bit.
Look.
Try this.
Slap the air with just one hand.
There, did that hurt?
Try it again even harder.
Well?
Now try slapping the desk the same way.
See.
Physics.
The plane was coming in to land at Abu Dhabi.
Margaret had been sleeping on and off. Not a bad thing. At least her form would’nt be too bad while we went through the rigmarole of immigration (Where’s Jack?), duty free again and the smoking room, which we know is here from our previous visit.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Day 52 - Friday 26 Feb
This morning was our wedding anniversary. Thirty eight years and never a cross word.
Aye right.
Nicola was determined not to let us forget our special day so she treated us to a very nice lunch at Café Di Stasio.
The weather as usual was kind enough to shine on us as we ate to our hearts content on the side walk. That sounds far better than the footpath. The food was simply made with the emphasis on flavour. Little wonder it receives the accolades it does.
A good way to see any city is to view it from the river. All great cities are built on rivers, naturally, that’s the way it is.
We decided our last portion of exploring would be thus. There wasn’t a great deal of choice, as there was a Regatta further up the River Yarra so all the boats would be sailing downstream only. No bother ducky.
Our captain, a man in his thirties and quite handsome, although maybe not as much as he seemed to think himself. Know the kind?
Well, he paraded about the riverside while waiting for his cargo of human voyeurs to board. Margaret was enjoying his company anyway; I noticed she never came aft to join me in the open part outside. The narration was down to earth and knowledgeable, and delivered with disdain towards the system. So unlike anything I would do!
The trip was interesting, about one hour out and one back. The water looked really clean to be running through a city of over five million, and a lot of them Indian. Have you seen the Ganges?
After the pleasantness on the briney, we called into a bar on Southbank. Here we met a lovely waitress from Malta of all places. We only had a beer and then on to find a bar that one of Jeanette’s friends worked in.
We found the bar but the girl was not available to comment, in fact she was slogging away in the office somewhere.
Tonight would be our last night in Australia. I never say never, but we both realised that we would not be making this trip again anyway soon. As M said, “If you didn’t have somebody there, you’d never go”. That is so true. Australia is a brilliant place to be young, energetic, and ambitious. It offers a brilliant lifestyle. Weather. Culture.
On the other hand, why do so many of its people choose to live elsewhere?
Aye right.
Nicola was determined not to let us forget our special day so she treated us to a very nice lunch at Café Di Stasio.
The weather as usual was kind enough to shine on us as we ate to our hearts content on the side walk. That sounds far better than the footpath. The food was simply made with the emphasis on flavour. Little wonder it receives the accolades it does.
A good way to see any city is to view it from the river. All great cities are built on rivers, naturally, that’s the way it is.
We decided our last portion of exploring would be thus. There wasn’t a great deal of choice, as there was a Regatta further up the River Yarra so all the boats would be sailing downstream only. No bother ducky.
Our captain, a man in his thirties and quite handsome, although maybe not as much as he seemed to think himself. Know the kind?
Well, he paraded about the riverside while waiting for his cargo of human voyeurs to board. Margaret was enjoying his company anyway; I noticed she never came aft to join me in the open part outside. The narration was down to earth and knowledgeable, and delivered with disdain towards the system. So unlike anything I would do!
The trip was interesting, about one hour out and one back. The water looked really clean to be running through a city of over five million, and a lot of them Indian. Have you seen the Ganges?
After the pleasantness on the briney, we called into a bar on Southbank. Here we met a lovely waitress from Malta of all places. We only had a beer and then on to find a bar that one of Jeanette’s friends worked in.
We found the bar but the girl was not available to comment, in fact she was slogging away in the office somewhere.
Tonight would be our last night in Australia. I never say never, but we both realised that we would not be making this trip again anyway soon. As M said, “If you didn’t have somebody there, you’d never go”. That is so true. Australia is a brilliant place to be young, energetic, and ambitious. It offers a brilliant lifestyle. Weather. Culture.
On the other hand, why do so many of its people choose to live elsewhere?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Day 51 - Thursday 25 Feb
Oh dear. It’s Thursday morning which means there are only three days left of our elongated holiday, or holidays to be more precise.
Nicola had suggested we pay a visit to a National Trust property at the next train stop along the line from here. Ripponlea.
A nice example of early Australian life. This house was built with money from the Sargood family drapery and clothing firm. It was at its peak during the gold rush and although we’ve seen a lot of things relating to the gold rush, this is the first tangible thing we’ve seen to come out of that period.
The last tour of the house for the day had just started so we dipped out. Instead, we saw around the gardens including the sorry looking lake which was suffering so much from lack of rainfall, and then on down into the basement kitchen area of the house. A fascinating insight into Melbournian life in days gone by.
Elsternwick, the locality that Rippon Lea sits in is another very warm and welcoming sort of place. All human life is here, without the litter. I was bemused to see rather more of the long bearded types than would be normal, but hey, that is life my boy.
The villagey feel to the place belies the fact that it sits on the main rail link into Melbourne about ten clicks away.
I must admit to preferring here to St. Kilda.
Then, it was only a fleeting visit, in the sunshine and on holiday.
We just went home after our visit. There was bad weather forecast, and they never get it wrong.
About an hour after arriving home, there was one monumental thunderstorm.
The rain came in torrents, the lightning flashed like maniacal strobes. I’ve heard this all before, only this time it was worse.
We were to have a bbq tonight, but decided to call it off because the rain had breached the ceiling in the dining area, and the whole place was soaking.
Frantic phone calls to Trevor at work along with calls to the realtor who let the house out. And yet more to the erstwhile dinner guests, cancelling.
We got the place dried out. In fact an hour after the deluge, everywhere was bone dry and back to normal sunny Melbourne, until next time.
Cheryl and Elliot. The Christian names of the friends are fab.
These two are certainly no exception. Cheryl, another lovely person is in HR back in Cambridge. She came over for a few months to be with her boyfriend Elliot, who’s in IT.
Cheryl is a little older than Elliot so she affectionately calls him boy or The Boy.
They braved the elements to come over for the bbq and it turned out to be a good wee night. Elliot in his naivety brought me a bottle of Guinness. It was like the Porter of olden days with a hint of cats pish in it. Still, the boy wasn’t to know.
Cheryl pronounced Sheril, is fitness fanatical, in my opinion.
She has signed up for a boot camp where they almost torture the hapless victims while making them run about in thirty odd degrees.
Actually, I don’t know who’s worse. Trainer or trainee.
Having said that though, they were both joys to meet.
Nicola had suggested we pay a visit to a National Trust property at the next train stop along the line from here. Ripponlea.
A nice example of early Australian life. This house was built with money from the Sargood family drapery and clothing firm. It was at its peak during the gold rush and although we’ve seen a lot of things relating to the gold rush, this is the first tangible thing we’ve seen to come out of that period.
The last tour of the house for the day had just started so we dipped out. Instead, we saw around the gardens including the sorry looking lake which was suffering so much from lack of rainfall, and then on down into the basement kitchen area of the house. A fascinating insight into Melbournian life in days gone by.
Elsternwick, the locality that Rippon Lea sits in is another very warm and welcoming sort of place. All human life is here, without the litter. I was bemused to see rather more of the long bearded types than would be normal, but hey, that is life my boy.
The villagey feel to the place belies the fact that it sits on the main rail link into Melbourne about ten clicks away.
I must admit to preferring here to St. Kilda.
Then, it was only a fleeting visit, in the sunshine and on holiday.
We just went home after our visit. There was bad weather forecast, and they never get it wrong.
About an hour after arriving home, there was one monumental thunderstorm.
The rain came in torrents, the lightning flashed like maniacal strobes. I’ve heard this all before, only this time it was worse.
We were to have a bbq tonight, but decided to call it off because the rain had breached the ceiling in the dining area, and the whole place was soaking.
Frantic phone calls to Trevor at work along with calls to the realtor who let the house out. And yet more to the erstwhile dinner guests, cancelling.
We got the place dried out. In fact an hour after the deluge, everywhere was bone dry and back to normal sunny Melbourne, until next time.
Cheryl and Elliot. The Christian names of the friends are fab.
These two are certainly no exception. Cheryl, another lovely person is in HR back in Cambridge. She came over for a few months to be with her boyfriend Elliot, who’s in IT.
Cheryl is a little older than Elliot so she affectionately calls him boy or The Boy.
They braved the elements to come over for the bbq and it turned out to be a good wee night. Elliot in his naivety brought me a bottle of Guinness. It was like the Porter of olden days with a hint of cats pish in it. Still, the boy wasn’t to know.
Cheryl pronounced Sheril, is fitness fanatical, in my opinion.
She has signed up for a boot camp where they almost torture the hapless victims while making them run about in thirty odd degrees.
Actually, I don’t know who’s worse. Trainer or trainee.
Having said that though, they were both joys to meet.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Day 50 - Wednesday 24 Feb
When we first came to Melbourne, Trevor drove us through the city centre. I spotted the gateways adorning and welcoming one and all to Chinatown.
Today we would spend our time in town and have a late lunch in Chinatown. Where else would you expect to get a decent chinky?
The tallest building in Melbourne is the Eureka Building nowadays.
If you look at the link it will tell you about this 88th floor view of Melbourne and much more.
We went here today.
The lift zoomed us up the 88 floors in under 40 seconds, coming to rest with a satisfied woooosh.
It’s scary enough looking out through the windows at the city and environs sprawling out a thousand odd feet below.
The whole visitor experience is run with military like precision.
There are people to show you into the lifts.
There are people to take you from the lift to the viewing area about ten metres away.
And there are people to get you into the cube.
Well other people at any rate.
Not us.
We all chickened out.
The world looked thoroughly small from our lookout floor way above.
The thought of just a glass floor between us and a sickening thud a thousand feet immediately below put us off a bit.
Not to worry though, it was another great experience.
My God, the things I put Margaret through….
All this exploring and bricking it made us a little hungry. It really was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. We decided to head over to Chinatown anyway.
On our way over we called into Myer.
Margaret had seen a dress she liked about three or four weeks ago and still hadn’t forgotten it. Dam.
After traipsing around this very large store we came upon it.
It was a nice wee dress on the hanger, but when M tried it on she proclaimed to be like a beg of shite.
Out again into the sunshine, and a gentle stroll up to find somewhere nice to eat.
We began to despair, because the good looking places with good looking menus were all closed for the afternoon.
We walked on, and our eyes were caught by the sight of a wee Chinese female teenager, sheltering from the sun under her Grannies umbrella.
She stood outside the restaurant touting for trade.
We decided to give it a try. Yes it was trying. The owner was even more belligerent than I can be at Boucher. When he was taking our order, he seemed to be saying hurry up frig you. Under his breath and also in Mandarin.
Wontons and Spring rolls for starters, good job we ate them when we did because a split second more of cooking would have rendered them totally inedible. Instead of just barely edible.
M had beef in black bean sauce, and a happy bunny she was too. I had Duck in Soy like sauce, it too was delicious. Nicola had chicken in some sort of sauce. Maybe sauce is a bad choice of word. Hers looked like poached strips of chicken served in a by-product off a sperm bank.
Not a happy bunny.
Of all the places in the entire world, where you would expect to eat genuinely nice Chinese food I thought this would do the job.
Maybe it was genuine.
Maybe the beautiful food we had in David’s, a Chinese near Nicolas’ was genuine.
I know which we’d all go back to.
Chinatown in Melbourne has to be worth a punt. Our experience would not put me off. But, I’d never go back to eat outside normal restaurant hours. That’s the secret.
Today we would spend our time in town and have a late lunch in Chinatown. Where else would you expect to get a decent chinky?
The tallest building in Melbourne is the Eureka Building nowadays.
If you look at the link it will tell you about this 88th floor view of Melbourne and much more.
We went here today.
The lift zoomed us up the 88 floors in under 40 seconds, coming to rest with a satisfied woooosh.
It’s scary enough looking out through the windows at the city and environs sprawling out a thousand odd feet below.
The whole visitor experience is run with military like precision.
There are people to show you into the lifts.
There are people to take you from the lift to the viewing area about ten metres away.
And there are people to get you into the cube.
Well other people at any rate.
Not us.
We all chickened out.
The world looked thoroughly small from our lookout floor way above.
The thought of just a glass floor between us and a sickening thud a thousand feet immediately below put us off a bit.
Not to worry though, it was another great experience.
My God, the things I put Margaret through….
All this exploring and bricking it made us a little hungry. It really was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. We decided to head over to Chinatown anyway.
On our way over we called into Myer.
Margaret had seen a dress she liked about three or four weeks ago and still hadn’t forgotten it. Dam.
After traipsing around this very large store we came upon it.
It was a nice wee dress on the hanger, but when M tried it on she proclaimed to be like a beg of shite.
Out again into the sunshine, and a gentle stroll up to find somewhere nice to eat.
We began to despair, because the good looking places with good looking menus were all closed for the afternoon.
We walked on, and our eyes were caught by the sight of a wee Chinese female teenager, sheltering from the sun under her Grannies umbrella.
She stood outside the restaurant touting for trade.
We decided to give it a try. Yes it was trying. The owner was even more belligerent than I can be at Boucher. When he was taking our order, he seemed to be saying hurry up frig you. Under his breath and also in Mandarin.
Wontons and Spring rolls for starters, good job we ate them when we did because a split second more of cooking would have rendered them totally inedible. Instead of just barely edible.
M had beef in black bean sauce, and a happy bunny she was too. I had Duck in Soy like sauce, it too was delicious. Nicola had chicken in some sort of sauce. Maybe sauce is a bad choice of word. Hers looked like poached strips of chicken served in a by-product off a sperm bank.
Not a happy bunny.
Of all the places in the entire world, where you would expect to eat genuinely nice Chinese food I thought this would do the job.
Maybe it was genuine.
Maybe the beautiful food we had in David’s, a Chinese near Nicolas’ was genuine.
I know which we’d all go back to.
Chinatown in Melbourne has to be worth a punt. Our experience would not put me off. But, I’d never go back to eat outside normal restaurant hours. That’s the secret.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Day 49 - Tuesday 23 Feb
There is a very big monument in Melbourne.
It is recognition of the fallen in the two great wars.
It is known simply, as The Shrine.
It stands on a hill by the St. Kilda Road.
Right beside the Royal Botanic Gardens.
It is also very impressive.
We decided to have a day walking around the Shrine and Botanic Gardens.
The shrine is well worth a visit, even if only to stand in silent solidarity with the spirits of those that shaped our lives as we know them today.
It was designed by servicemen after their return from the theatres of war in Europe nearly one hundred years ago.
Please have a look at the link, I believe it’s very important to remember these things the way other races remember their own tragedies.
This is truly an international destination for tourists, according to the message boards and literature on the site.
The gardens, which also house the Planetarium are enormous. We tried to do them justice, but the legs were walked of us. We went for lunch in the park café and found it to be really dear.
Never mind though, because later Nicola showed us the hidden gem of St. Kilda that is The Local.
For all us beer lovers, real ale that is, and lagers as well, there is a very good link.
We were in here a few times and the weather was always pleasant enough to allow us to sit on the roof area in the open air. A bit like a beer garden upstairs.
Again a place with a predominantly young crowd.
At this time I must disclose something that has just this minute come to me.
The reason most places seem to have a young crowd is simply because they are all a lot younger than me. Oh my God, very soon the first digit of my age will be a six. Maybe I’ve been knocking about with old people too long, because I certainly don’t feel old.
Except when I have to kneel.
Or run.
Or stay up late.
Or do vigorous stuff.
What’s that?
That’s all the time?
Doesn’t matter. The climb up the stairs for the lovely beer was well worth it.
They have literally hundreds of different beers here, in fact they even have a booklet naming them all.
I got through a few of them, but if I’m ever back in the area again, this will certainly be on my wish list.
If I remember.
Prue and Webber. Now, they are names to conjure with. I believe them to be Prudence and Webbo, short for Webster. Like the guy in Coronation Street.
They came a calling tonight with their gorgeous wee daughter Eugenie, she’s about 6 months I think.
Webbos people are farming folk and I was anxious to know how the livestock survived the harsh arid summers, when the grass was tinder dry.
He explained that it worked out well because they only put so many cattle or sheep per acre so that they would all get sufficient to do them.
Mind you the farms, and the paddocks (very big fields to us) are a lot bigger than what we know.
Prue had a really interesting job. Although she was working from home now, because she had Eugenie, her job was in PR.
She worked with Mercedes so she got to meet the Formula one boys at the Grand Prix. She even had them up in the Eureka Tower, but as she told me it wasn’t so good because she is petrified of heights!
A charming couple who seem to have the hard work ethos at the fore in their young lives.
It is recognition of the fallen in the two great wars.
It is known simply, as The Shrine.
It stands on a hill by the St. Kilda Road.
Right beside the Royal Botanic Gardens.
It is also very impressive.
We decided to have a day walking around the Shrine and Botanic Gardens.
The shrine is well worth a visit, even if only to stand in silent solidarity with the spirits of those that shaped our lives as we know them today.
It was designed by servicemen after their return from the theatres of war in Europe nearly one hundred years ago.
Please have a look at the link, I believe it’s very important to remember these things the way other races remember their own tragedies.
This is truly an international destination for tourists, according to the message boards and literature on the site.
The gardens, which also house the Planetarium are enormous. We tried to do them justice, but the legs were walked of us. We went for lunch in the park café and found it to be really dear.
Never mind though, because later Nicola showed us the hidden gem of St. Kilda that is The Local.
For all us beer lovers, real ale that is, and lagers as well, there is a very good link.
We were in here a few times and the weather was always pleasant enough to allow us to sit on the roof area in the open air. A bit like a beer garden upstairs.
Again a place with a predominantly young crowd.
At this time I must disclose something that has just this minute come to me.
The reason most places seem to have a young crowd is simply because they are all a lot younger than me. Oh my God, very soon the first digit of my age will be a six. Maybe I’ve been knocking about with old people too long, because I certainly don’t feel old.
Except when I have to kneel.
Or run.
Or stay up late.
Or do vigorous stuff.
What’s that?
That’s all the time?
Doesn’t matter. The climb up the stairs for the lovely beer was well worth it.
They have literally hundreds of different beers here, in fact they even have a booklet naming them all.
I got through a few of them, but if I’m ever back in the area again, this will certainly be on my wish list.
If I remember.
Prue and Webber. Now, they are names to conjure with. I believe them to be Prudence and Webbo, short for Webster. Like the guy in Coronation Street.
They came a calling tonight with their gorgeous wee daughter Eugenie, she’s about 6 months I think.
Webbos people are farming folk and I was anxious to know how the livestock survived the harsh arid summers, when the grass was tinder dry.
He explained that it worked out well because they only put so many cattle or sheep per acre so that they would all get sufficient to do them.
Mind you the farms, and the paddocks (very big fields to us) are a lot bigger than what we know.
Prue had a really interesting job. Although she was working from home now, because she had Eugenie, her job was in PR.
She worked with Mercedes so she got to meet the Formula one boys at the Grand Prix. She even had them up in the Eureka Tower, but as she told me it wasn’t so good because she is petrified of heights!
A charming couple who seem to have the hard work ethos at the fore in their young lives.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Day 48 - Monday 22 Feb
I think Nicola is at her wits end trying to keep us occupied, so she is delighted at the prospect of the day out organised by our new friends John and Marlene.
John came to pick us up and brought us back to his house. This is an impressive bungalow, probably the most impressive home we’ve been in here. Perfect for a growing family, and a nice wee pension provider for those of more advanced years.
After a wee drop of tea and incessant chat from the ladies, we went on our travels,
Our journey took us to Flinders, Arthurs Seat and a nice, but much Anglicized pub called the Pig ‘n Whistle. This is wine growing country, and we’d been here with Nicola and Trevor in the first week of our holiday.
A nice lunch here, set us up for the afternoon leg, where we would find small coastal places of interest. Even though it was fairly late summer, a lot of places were closed. Finding a decent coffee shop was proving to be difficult. Still, John drove on regardless, taking us to places that had caught his attention in previous times.
We arrived back at HQ about seven,
Time to kick off the shoes and relax, a wee drink and yes, some cricket.
John came to pick us up and brought us back to his house. This is an impressive bungalow, probably the most impressive home we’ve been in here. Perfect for a growing family, and a nice wee pension provider for those of more advanced years.
After a wee drop of tea and incessant chat from the ladies, we went on our travels,
Our journey took us to Flinders, Arthurs Seat and a nice, but much Anglicized pub called the Pig ‘n Whistle. This is wine growing country, and we’d been here with Nicola and Trevor in the first week of our holiday.
A nice lunch here, set us up for the afternoon leg, where we would find small coastal places of interest. Even though it was fairly late summer, a lot of places were closed. Finding a decent coffee shop was proving to be difficult. Still, John drove on regardless, taking us to places that had caught his attention in previous times.
We arrived back at HQ about seven,
Time to kick off the shoes and relax, a wee drink and yes, some cricket.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Day 47 - Sunday at Lynott Street.
This is where it could go a bit awry.
Last night we had a good old drink to celebrate Wye and its memories.
I think Trevor went out with some friends.
I spent a long time today thinking about the blog.
Maybe I should have been writing instead.
The lovely Jack and Thelma, Trevor’ parents came over for a BBQ. Wait, that doesn’t happen until Saturday I think.
We met up with John and Marlene Mc Cann. These two fine people are uncle and aunt to Alan, our son in law.
I think Trevor was under pressure because he had a rain check, preferring the solitude of Lynott Street to the throngs that were up where the Sunday morning Art and Craft market is held.
After a trawl around and up and down the market we just went for a couple of drinks down on the foreshore. The Beachcombers was to be our pub of choice. Sitting right by the beach it was chocca on this fine Sunday afternoon. A lot of families seem to meet up for lunch and or drinks here. Anyway, another fine link to view more on this place.
It was strange talking to Marlene, she’s a girl that has been out of Belfast for thirty nine years, yet, if you closed your eyes you would think it was her sister Jennifer talking. And she’s still there! In Belfast I mean.
We had a few wee drinks, John and I mostly watched the people and enjoyed the scenery, while the girls had a right wee chinwag.
Turns out they lived off the main highway that almost passes Nicolas’, place how’s that for convenience.
We agreed for John to come and pick us up in the morning to go for a wee drive up to the peninsula probably.
Last night we had a good old drink to celebrate Wye and its memories.
I think Trevor went out with some friends.
I spent a long time today thinking about the blog.
Maybe I should have been writing instead.
The lovely Jack and Thelma, Trevor’ parents came over for a BBQ. Wait, that doesn’t happen until Saturday I think.
We met up with John and Marlene Mc Cann. These two fine people are uncle and aunt to Alan, our son in law.
I think Trevor was under pressure because he had a rain check, preferring the solitude of Lynott Street to the throngs that were up where the Sunday morning Art and Craft market is held.
After a trawl around and up and down the market we just went for a couple of drinks down on the foreshore. The Beachcombers was to be our pub of choice. Sitting right by the beach it was chocca on this fine Sunday afternoon. A lot of families seem to meet up for lunch and or drinks here. Anyway, another fine link to view more on this place.
It was strange talking to Marlene, she’s a girl that has been out of Belfast for thirty nine years, yet, if you closed your eyes you would think it was her sister Jennifer talking. And she’s still there! In Belfast I mean.
We had a few wee drinks, John and I mostly watched the people and enjoyed the scenery, while the girls had a right wee chinwag.
Turns out they lived off the main highway that almost passes Nicolas’, place how’s that for convenience.
We agreed for John to come and pick us up in the morning to go for a wee drive up to the peninsula probably.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Day 46 - Saturday 20 Feb
My god.
That was a windy ol night.
The house creaked and groaned.
There were bangs and protests from both tree and building alike.
I woke several times, certain that someone was trying to wrench open the patio doors that led from four feet from where I lay, out onto the veranda that seemed to be getting power washed.
I got up and walked out onto the other part of the veranda. The part that looks down to the ocean, over a couple of other houses. You can’t see the houses in the day time. It’s only at night when the lights from their rooms show through all the woodwork.
Not a light was lit, it was two in the morning and the wind was howling through the tree canopy.
God, what a lonely, forlorn place this can be.
I remembered a quote I’d never heard until I started writing this.
ROBERT FROST:
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
And so it does.
I climbed into bed, the next thing I heard was Margaret snoring.
See.
Geelong. Another fine link. I’d read about this town when I was surfing the net at home. The town had suffered through shifting demography like a lot of other towns on this earth of ours.
Tourism was to be its saviour. It badly needed something to draw visitors to spend their dollar.
They had a waterfront location. They had a good climate. They had vision.
They also had a run down pier, and old warehouses used by the wool trade to store and ship their wares.
These had long since gone into a state of disrepair, so the city fathers revamped the whole area, and turned things around.
While we were there, it was always part of the plan to visit on the way back to Melbourne, we were treated to the sight of a wee penguin swimming in the water next to the pier. Ducking for the wee fish that were there in abundance. Eating his/her fill, and then off to sunbathe and preen no doubt. Just like the Yellow Eyed cousins of his/her we saw in New Zealand.
Such a treat, and the wee thing was totally oblivious to us gawping at him/her from behind our sun glasses.
We continued our trip back to Nicola and Trevor’s.
Once we were on the freeway I sat the cruise control at 95 and cruised peacefully all the way for the 60 or so kilometres we were on that section.
The wee car had cruise control, aircon and all sorts but it didn’t have electric windows. Bizarre or what?
We found our way back no problem. It was a bit disappointing really, not having to growl at Margaret for not having us in the right place at the right time.
It was nice to be back.
We prattled on and on about the trip, I think I saw Trevor looking at a book called “How to commit suicide without letting on”, and other stories.
After leaving the filthy, really filthy wee car back, I invited the young lad to check it. He was surprised to find a gray car, rather than the black one he gave us.
He mentioned something about a ploughed field but I missed the first part. Smiling benignly I left to get in Trevor’s car for the short journey home.
That was a windy ol night.
The house creaked and groaned.
There were bangs and protests from both tree and building alike.
I woke several times, certain that someone was trying to wrench open the patio doors that led from four feet from where I lay, out onto the veranda that seemed to be getting power washed.
I got up and walked out onto the other part of the veranda. The part that looks down to the ocean, over a couple of other houses. You can’t see the houses in the day time. It’s only at night when the lights from their rooms show through all the woodwork.
Not a light was lit, it was two in the morning and the wind was howling through the tree canopy.
God, what a lonely, forlorn place this can be.
I remembered a quote I’d never heard until I started writing this.
ROBERT FROST:
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
And so it does.
I climbed into bed, the next thing I heard was Margaret snoring.
See.
Geelong. Another fine link. I’d read about this town when I was surfing the net at home. The town had suffered through shifting demography like a lot of other towns on this earth of ours.
Tourism was to be its saviour. It badly needed something to draw visitors to spend their dollar.
They had a waterfront location. They had a good climate. They had vision.
They also had a run down pier, and old warehouses used by the wool trade to store and ship their wares.
These had long since gone into a state of disrepair, so the city fathers revamped the whole area, and turned things around.
While we were there, it was always part of the plan to visit on the way back to Melbourne, we were treated to the sight of a wee penguin swimming in the water next to the pier. Ducking for the wee fish that were there in abundance. Eating his/her fill, and then off to sunbathe and preen no doubt. Just like the Yellow Eyed cousins of his/her we saw in New Zealand.
Such a treat, and the wee thing was totally oblivious to us gawping at him/her from behind our sun glasses.
We continued our trip back to Nicola and Trevor’s.
Once we were on the freeway I sat the cruise control at 95 and cruised peacefully all the way for the 60 or so kilometres we were on that section.
The wee car had cruise control, aircon and all sorts but it didn’t have electric windows. Bizarre or what?
We found our way back no problem. It was a bit disappointing really, not having to growl at Margaret for not having us in the right place at the right time.
It was nice to be back.
We prattled on and on about the trip, I think I saw Trevor looking at a book called “How to commit suicide without letting on”, and other stories.
After leaving the filthy, really filthy wee car back, I invited the young lad to check it. He was surprised to find a gray car, rather than the black one he gave us.
He mentioned something about a ploughed field but I missed the first part. Smiling benignly I left to get in Trevor’s car for the short journey home.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Day 45 Friday at Wye
This was to be our last full day in paradise.
If the house wasn’t on top of this hill. If the hill was less steep. If we were younger. If your granny had nuts.
It was what it was. If anything had have been different it would have been less, a lot less of a brilliant holiday.
Today we had plans made as usual, but todays were different. Our plan was to not have a plan.
We spent the day on the beach. We’d gathered up beachy things from the house, seats etc and sunbathed and read, we found new friends from Ballarat, Graham and his wife. They were down in their caravan at the campsite across the road. He was a keen fisherman, fishing from the beach, the way a lot of people do down here.
The sun’s rays were taking their toll on us. We decided to go for a siesta in mid afternoon. It was good to get in out of the sun, and the wee sleep did wonders for our tired bodies,
We’d nothing in for dinner so we went to a butcher’s shop we’d seen on our travels and got some bbq fare.
The next big decision was to see where we’d go for a beer. We ended up having a couple in the Wye River Hotel, a nice sociable hostelry at the bottom of “our hill”.
Up to the house, barby on, feed the parrots, from my hand, eat drink and was merry.
This was turning into a very stormy evening. Even the birds had cleared off.
Woe is me.
Tomorrow it’s back to Melbourne.
No more Parrots.
No more Koalas.
Saturday at Wye
If the house wasn’t on top of this hill. If the hill was less steep. If we were younger. If your granny had nuts.
It was what it was. If anything had have been different it would have been less, a lot less of a brilliant holiday.
Today we had plans made as usual, but todays were different. Our plan was to not have a plan.
We spent the day on the beach. We’d gathered up beachy things from the house, seats etc and sunbathed and read, we found new friends from Ballarat, Graham and his wife. They were down in their caravan at the campsite across the road. He was a keen fisherman, fishing from the beach, the way a lot of people do down here.
The sun’s rays were taking their toll on us. We decided to go for a siesta in mid afternoon. It was good to get in out of the sun, and the wee sleep did wonders for our tired bodies,
We’d nothing in for dinner so we went to a butcher’s shop we’d seen on our travels and got some bbq fare.
The next big decision was to see where we’d go for a beer. We ended up having a couple in the Wye River Hotel, a nice sociable hostelry at the bottom of “our hill”.
Up to the house, barby on, feed the parrots, from my hand, eat drink and was merry.
This was turning into a very stormy evening. Even the birds had cleared off.
Woe is me.
Tomorrow it’s back to Melbourne.
No more Parrots.
No more Koalas.
Saturday at Wye
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Day 44 - Thursday at Wye
With a heavy heart we realise it can’t be long before we give up this almost paradisiacal existence and go back to the real world.
Sod that.
We’re still here.
Margaret was up before me and was making breakfast.
On occasions like this, historic as they are, I feel compelled to go out to the veranda and survey the world.
I tend to stretch, yawn loudly, and oftimes fart loudly. I might even give myself a good scratch as long as there’s nobody about.
My neighbours these days are always begging for food, and if they don’t get any they can turn very raucous. Yes, even the parrots want fed in the morning. I still think I’d rather feed these birds than a lot of the ones in Boucher. Soon enough dear reader, soon enough.
Margaret’s choice of location today was west.
Our first stop was Apollo Bay.
Although we’d been here a couple of times before, we hadn’t really explored it.
Just like several other wee towns in this area there is a nice buzz about it. It might have something to do with the hordes of young back packers found everywhere, or the flocks of elderly tourists, a lot of them older, even than Crosser. It could be the constant sunshine at his time of year. Or it could be worlds apart from what we know. Literally and geographically.
We went down to the pier, deserted in the early morning except for one old salt doing repairs to a vessel as old as him. A couple of tourists not unlike ourselves. A whole lot of sea birds scrounging for breakfast from the trawlers that are not here.
Back up into the town and caught sight of some post cards. I saw an interesting birthday card, but because it had the F word on it, I wasn’t allowed to get it. That was the only effin reason I wanted it in the first place. We bought others, filled them out at a kerbside café and went into the post office to send them. I spotted Chris from the restaurant we went to the other night. We shook hands warmly and yes, he remembered me from the visit to his restaurant. I asked him how he found business to be and he replied the stock answer which means not to good “Ticking over, dear chap, ticking over!” So even here there are problems.
I’d seen a brochure for a place called Maits Rest and here’s another cracking link.
I must admit, after Nicola had taught me how to do this I think I’d rather have just a few words of text, and several dozen links. So much easier. This place was gorgeous. It was only about a forty minute loop, but the vegetation was marvellous. The forestry wallahs had created a wooden path, a bit like decking in a huge circular route. Mountain Ash and Myrtle were the two main species of tree, some of them hundreds of years old. More huge tree ferns, sometimes possums nest in their crowns. It was just off the road and so easy to get to. We weren’t even breathless when we emerged back into the car park.
Proceeding in a westerly direction me laud, we came to Cape Otway lighthouse. Margaret had said this was to be a stop and see place.
It is situated at the end of a ten kilometre drive through yet another part of Otway Forest.
This time though, there were Koalas in abundance. We even saw our first mother and child together.
That was so cute.
I wonder what Koalas taste like?
Kangaroo is nice, as is Crocodile.
There was admission fee to get to see the light house. $16.50.
The equivalent here would be to pay £10 to see round my shed. Like. Would ye?
It was mildly interesting, but glad we went. We climbed up to the top of the light house and the guide fellow was as pleased to be there as I am to go to Boucher. If, and I did, you asked him a question, he’d ramble off some information and yawn! He seemed to be intensely bored and unfriendly. First time we’d come across that in several thousand kilometres of travel down here. Thank you.
The light house at Split Point was much nicer, and far bigger. Unfortunately it didn’t open to the public.
We’d done enough for the day; we’d made yet another picnic so time to find somewhere to eat.
As it turned out, we ended up in Apollo Bay, right beside the sea. We sat at one of the many tables and munched our way through whatever we had, ham rolls, cow pie, and the usual. A walk along the very long beach finished off our day out.
Another fine day full of memories of sights and sounds. Smells and emotions. And that was only the toilets at Apollo Bay.
We got back to HQ at six thirty - sevenish.
Tired. Again.
I jumped into the shower early, before settling down with a couple of beers.
A couple of days ago, on our way back home from wherever, we stopped at the local supermarket. I love supermarkets that see interesting produce, field and tree fresh, deli to die for, and butchery that you’d love to have a steak in.
This is one of those. It was here that we discovered the two litre box of wine. Oh yes, almost as good as the real thing and a lot cheaper.
I had my usual couple of beers, and since it was a weekday, a couple of glasses of wine. Then my dear reader, off to the pit.
Margaret hadn’t been able to decide if she liked the wine so she kept trying until the first box was cleared. This was obviously a cause for celebration, so after a couple of Gins, she too, came to bed.
And woke me up.
Who’s making breakfast in the morning I thought, as I drifted off to the land far away, where peace and quiet lives. With the help of Ear plugs from Boots!
Sod that.
We’re still here.
Margaret was up before me and was making breakfast.
On occasions like this, historic as they are, I feel compelled to go out to the veranda and survey the world.
I tend to stretch, yawn loudly, and oftimes fart loudly. I might even give myself a good scratch as long as there’s nobody about.
My neighbours these days are always begging for food, and if they don’t get any they can turn very raucous. Yes, even the parrots want fed in the morning. I still think I’d rather feed these birds than a lot of the ones in Boucher. Soon enough dear reader, soon enough.
Margaret’s choice of location today was west.
Our first stop was Apollo Bay.
Although we’d been here a couple of times before, we hadn’t really explored it.
Just like several other wee towns in this area there is a nice buzz about it. It might have something to do with the hordes of young back packers found everywhere, or the flocks of elderly tourists, a lot of them older, even than Crosser. It could be the constant sunshine at his time of year. Or it could be worlds apart from what we know. Literally and geographically.
We went down to the pier, deserted in the early morning except for one old salt doing repairs to a vessel as old as him. A couple of tourists not unlike ourselves. A whole lot of sea birds scrounging for breakfast from the trawlers that are not here.
Back up into the town and caught sight of some post cards. I saw an interesting birthday card, but because it had the F word on it, I wasn’t allowed to get it. That was the only effin reason I wanted it in the first place. We bought others, filled them out at a kerbside café and went into the post office to send them. I spotted Chris from the restaurant we went to the other night. We shook hands warmly and yes, he remembered me from the visit to his restaurant. I asked him how he found business to be and he replied the stock answer which means not to good “Ticking over, dear chap, ticking over!” So even here there are problems.
I’d seen a brochure for a place called Maits Rest and here’s another cracking link.
I must admit, after Nicola had taught me how to do this I think I’d rather have just a few words of text, and several dozen links. So much easier. This place was gorgeous. It was only about a forty minute loop, but the vegetation was marvellous. The forestry wallahs had created a wooden path, a bit like decking in a huge circular route. Mountain Ash and Myrtle were the two main species of tree, some of them hundreds of years old. More huge tree ferns, sometimes possums nest in their crowns. It was just off the road and so easy to get to. We weren’t even breathless when we emerged back into the car park.
Proceeding in a westerly direction me laud, we came to Cape Otway lighthouse. Margaret had said this was to be a stop and see place.
It is situated at the end of a ten kilometre drive through yet another part of Otway Forest.
This time though, there were Koalas in abundance. We even saw our first mother and child together.
That was so cute.
I wonder what Koalas taste like?
Kangaroo is nice, as is Crocodile.
There was admission fee to get to see the light house. $16.50.
The equivalent here would be to pay £10 to see round my shed. Like. Would ye?
It was mildly interesting, but glad we went. We climbed up to the top of the light house and the guide fellow was as pleased to be there as I am to go to Boucher. If, and I did, you asked him a question, he’d ramble off some information and yawn! He seemed to be intensely bored and unfriendly. First time we’d come across that in several thousand kilometres of travel down here. Thank you.
The light house at Split Point was much nicer, and far bigger. Unfortunately it didn’t open to the public.
We’d done enough for the day; we’d made yet another picnic so time to find somewhere to eat.
As it turned out, we ended up in Apollo Bay, right beside the sea. We sat at one of the many tables and munched our way through whatever we had, ham rolls, cow pie, and the usual. A walk along the very long beach finished off our day out.
Another fine day full of memories of sights and sounds. Smells and emotions. And that was only the toilets at Apollo Bay.
We got back to HQ at six thirty - sevenish.
Tired. Again.
I jumped into the shower early, before settling down with a couple of beers.
A couple of days ago, on our way back home from wherever, we stopped at the local supermarket. I love supermarkets that see interesting produce, field and tree fresh, deli to die for, and butchery that you’d love to have a steak in.
This is one of those. It was here that we discovered the two litre box of wine. Oh yes, almost as good as the real thing and a lot cheaper.
I had my usual couple of beers, and since it was a weekday, a couple of glasses of wine. Then my dear reader, off to the pit.
Margaret hadn’t been able to decide if she liked the wine so she kept trying until the first box was cleared. This was obviously a cause for celebration, so after a couple of Gins, she too, came to bed.
And woke me up.
Who’s making breakfast in the morning I thought, as I drifted off to the land far away, where peace and quiet lives. With the help of Ear plugs from Boots!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Day 43 - Wednesday at Wye
Wednesday has brought more sunshine to our hilltop retreat. Some day I’ll try to get up before it, but until then, there’s the blog.
It was my turn to pick the destinations and I really only wanted to see one thing.
The Otway Fly. This is an excellent link.
It’s a dead straight forward place to get to, about 33 kms, but I thought it might be good to go via the forest rather than the coast road.
We had visited Grey River Road with Nicola and Trevor on Sunday but had only gone a short way up the road. We, as explorers, would see where the road led to.
We’d only gone a little way ourselves when I spotted a royal blue mound at the side of the road. On getting nearer the mound moved and there before us was an elderly man, weather beaten and hair and beard as white as snow, under an Alan Mailley hat!
We decided to stop to enquire after his health and discovered he was probably fitter than the two of us together.
He described himself as a Swag Man.
Years ago, these guys were quite a common sight. Not today however. He was a joy to listen to. At first we were sceptical about just about all he said. But, after listening to his description of all things rural, and his genuine knowledge of the world about him we were enthralled.
It would have been brilliant to get him and Seymour McCleave together. They have very similar outlooks on life I think.
He told us he was going to the picnic ground / car park about five kms up the road and we gave him a lift. Everything that drew his attention on the very slow drive up the gravel road, gave him recollections from a very very interesting past.
We spent some time with him at the car park. We’d packed a picnic to eat here, but because he declined our invitation to share our food we couldn’t very well have it there.
We drove off, leaving him with his very heavy back pack lying in the grass. I really wanted to take a picture of him, and tell Rachel it was Santa on holiday. Because of the tremendous respect we felt he deserved I kept the camera in the car.
We still have the memory of our meeting the swag man in the bush.
After driving through bush and scrub for a while it turned into lush verdant rain forest.
We had the Otway Fly in Tomtom and we headed for the sky.
The “Fly” if you’ve followed the link is a great day out.
We climbed up into the tower, which seemed to be swaying, but it was the trees. We were up over a hundred feet in the tree canopy. Below us, tree ferns ten or more feet across look like wee flowers.
Back down from another breathing difficulty induced climb we tried the “Cantilever”.
This is a structure that stretches into the trees with no real visible means of support, except for two cables. When you’re at the very end looking down to the forest floor, the movement of fellow travellers approaching scares the bejasis out of you. All you want is to get to somewhere a bit steadier.
Driving back along the coast we pondered on how tiring doing nothing is. It would be an early day today. We went back to HQ and fed the parrots and discovered some other fascinating and brilliantly coloured birds.
There’s nothing wrong with sitting about at night even on holiday. The thing about doing that here is every time you get settled, something better is happening out side in the trees. I wonder if I’m turning into a peeping tom? Still, if it’s only the feathered birds I watch…………..
It was my turn to pick the destinations and I really only wanted to see one thing.
The Otway Fly. This is an excellent link.
It’s a dead straight forward place to get to, about 33 kms, but I thought it might be good to go via the forest rather than the coast road.
We had visited Grey River Road with Nicola and Trevor on Sunday but had only gone a short way up the road. We, as explorers, would see where the road led to.
We’d only gone a little way ourselves when I spotted a royal blue mound at the side of the road. On getting nearer the mound moved and there before us was an elderly man, weather beaten and hair and beard as white as snow, under an Alan Mailley hat!
We decided to stop to enquire after his health and discovered he was probably fitter than the two of us together.
He described himself as a Swag Man.
Years ago, these guys were quite a common sight. Not today however. He was a joy to listen to. At first we were sceptical about just about all he said. But, after listening to his description of all things rural, and his genuine knowledge of the world about him we were enthralled.
It would have been brilliant to get him and Seymour McCleave together. They have very similar outlooks on life I think.
He told us he was going to the picnic ground / car park about five kms up the road and we gave him a lift. Everything that drew his attention on the very slow drive up the gravel road, gave him recollections from a very very interesting past.
We spent some time with him at the car park. We’d packed a picnic to eat here, but because he declined our invitation to share our food we couldn’t very well have it there.
We drove off, leaving him with his very heavy back pack lying in the grass. I really wanted to take a picture of him, and tell Rachel it was Santa on holiday. Because of the tremendous respect we felt he deserved I kept the camera in the car.
We still have the memory of our meeting the swag man in the bush.
After driving through bush and scrub for a while it turned into lush verdant rain forest.
We had the Otway Fly in Tomtom and we headed for the sky.
The “Fly” if you’ve followed the link is a great day out.
We climbed up into the tower, which seemed to be swaying, but it was the trees. We were up over a hundred feet in the tree canopy. Below us, tree ferns ten or more feet across look like wee flowers.
Back down from another breathing difficulty induced climb we tried the “Cantilever”.
This is a structure that stretches into the trees with no real visible means of support, except for two cables. When you’re at the very end looking down to the forest floor, the movement of fellow travellers approaching scares the bejasis out of you. All you want is to get to somewhere a bit steadier.
Driving back along the coast we pondered on how tiring doing nothing is. It would be an early day today. We went back to HQ and fed the parrots and discovered some other fascinating and brilliantly coloured birds.
There’s nothing wrong with sitting about at night even on holiday. The thing about doing that here is every time you get settled, something better is happening out side in the trees. I wonder if I’m turning into a peeping tom? Still, if it’s only the feathered birds I watch…………..
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Day 42 - Tuesday at Wye.
It was a fine morning.
Once again the sunshine was leaning on the patio doors of our bedroom.
“Open the curtains and let me in” it called. “No, I’ll come out the other door” I answered. Margaret grunted and turned round to face the wall.
Does anyone know what this song is? The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. My version goes like this in the morning. The kettle is glowing, a new day awakes, time for some coffee, and maybe some tray bakes.
This is going to be a non hurried sort of day. We have decided Margaret will choose the destination.
Yes dear reader. Today would be a day of surprises, and I imagine a series of very short drives. Well, compared to the drives I’d pick.
First destination is the lovely Sheoak Falls. These had a mere two hundred steps, and because we’d no rain for a few days were not terribly impressive. A bit like a Yorkshire pudding, nice to look at, but no real body to them. Still it’s all about the exercise.
We drove a little further and found the impressive Erskine Falls. This baby has 315 steps and we found it very hard going getting back up. Do you realise that when we visit these falls, there is always a path leading down to their bases. It is usually very steep in places, it is in a humid wee rain forest, and it’s always a challenge.
Here’s an ould saying by Voltaire:
If we do not find anything very pleasant, at least we shall find something new.
He was writing about travel and adventures as well.
That’s all very well, but he wasn’t travelling with Margaret. Our next stop was to be a wee beaut.
Really.
The Split Point Lighthouse at Aireys Inlet.
Aireys Inlet is another of the small villages that hug the coast. I would love to have seen how everything was sixty or so years ago. It’s that kind of place. It has a lovely feel to it. So much so in fact, that when we reached the top of the hill on which the lighthouse sits, Margaret’s emotions got the better off her and she went for a quick pee in the bushes. I know this because much to her dismay, I captured the moment on camera. It must be ok because her ma never mentioned anything when I accidently showed her the picture on our TV later in the year!
It’s all part of the experience don’t you know.
Lovely, and interesting as it all was, we had to move on.
Torquay, obviously named after the Cornish town, is also famously known for its surf beaches. This was to be our next stop.
On our way though, we found a cute wee coffee shop stroke restaurant in Anglesea.
It was run by two fine ladies that reminded me very much of the hippy generation. I almost expected them to serve us with a spliff hanging from their mouths. Clearly they didn’t nor wouldn’t, but that’s what was in my head, and now it’s in print. So there. The coffee was a joy. Margaret’s breakfast was large and filling so we never ate anything, even though it was past lunch time. I wonder if I’m really losing weight?
The surf wasn’t up; in fact the sea was quite becalmed. This however didn’t stop the intrepid surfers, all of which looked as though they were at the intermediate stage of their past time. Not that I’d know, I just can’t imagine a real surf head being out in one foot waves!
Another couple of holiday snaps and we decided to bin Torquay in sake of another surf resort on the way back. It was around the headland so maybe they’d have better waves and something better to hold our attention for five minutes.
They didn’t.
Down here, when you look out to sea, there is nothing to be seen between where you stand and Antarctica.
Except the sun as it dips its feet in the salty brine.
It had a toe in, so we decided enough was enough.
I’d made a big pot of Bollo yesterday, so tonight we’d feast on spag boll. I’d feed the parrots, watch for the koala and listen out for the laughter that is the Kookaburra’s song.
Winter Olympics, a few tinnies and bed.
My God. It doesn’t get much better than this.
Goodnight.
Once again the sunshine was leaning on the patio doors of our bedroom.
“Open the curtains and let me in” it called. “No, I’ll come out the other door” I answered. Margaret grunted and turned round to face the wall.
Does anyone know what this song is? The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. My version goes like this in the morning. The kettle is glowing, a new day awakes, time for some coffee, and maybe some tray bakes.
This is going to be a non hurried sort of day. We have decided Margaret will choose the destination.
Yes dear reader. Today would be a day of surprises, and I imagine a series of very short drives. Well, compared to the drives I’d pick.
First destination is the lovely Sheoak Falls. These had a mere two hundred steps, and because we’d no rain for a few days were not terribly impressive. A bit like a Yorkshire pudding, nice to look at, but no real body to them. Still it’s all about the exercise.
We drove a little further and found the impressive Erskine Falls. This baby has 315 steps and we found it very hard going getting back up. Do you realise that when we visit these falls, there is always a path leading down to their bases. It is usually very steep in places, it is in a humid wee rain forest, and it’s always a challenge.
Here’s an ould saying by Voltaire:
If we do not find anything very pleasant, at least we shall find something new.
He was writing about travel and adventures as well.
That’s all very well, but he wasn’t travelling with Margaret. Our next stop was to be a wee beaut.
Really.
The Split Point Lighthouse at Aireys Inlet.
Aireys Inlet is another of the small villages that hug the coast. I would love to have seen how everything was sixty or so years ago. It’s that kind of place. It has a lovely feel to it. So much so in fact, that when we reached the top of the hill on which the lighthouse sits, Margaret’s emotions got the better off her and she went for a quick pee in the bushes. I know this because much to her dismay, I captured the moment on camera. It must be ok because her ma never mentioned anything when I accidently showed her the picture on our TV later in the year!
It’s all part of the experience don’t you know.
Lovely, and interesting as it all was, we had to move on.
Torquay, obviously named after the Cornish town, is also famously known for its surf beaches. This was to be our next stop.
On our way though, we found a cute wee coffee shop stroke restaurant in Anglesea.
It was run by two fine ladies that reminded me very much of the hippy generation. I almost expected them to serve us with a spliff hanging from their mouths. Clearly they didn’t nor wouldn’t, but that’s what was in my head, and now it’s in print. So there. The coffee was a joy. Margaret’s breakfast was large and filling so we never ate anything, even though it was past lunch time. I wonder if I’m really losing weight?
The surf wasn’t up; in fact the sea was quite becalmed. This however didn’t stop the intrepid surfers, all of which looked as though they were at the intermediate stage of their past time. Not that I’d know, I just can’t imagine a real surf head being out in one foot waves!
Another couple of holiday snaps and we decided to bin Torquay in sake of another surf resort on the way back. It was around the headland so maybe they’d have better waves and something better to hold our attention for five minutes.
They didn’t.
Down here, when you look out to sea, there is nothing to be seen between where you stand and Antarctica.
Except the sun as it dips its feet in the salty brine.
It had a toe in, so we decided enough was enough.
I’d made a big pot of Bollo yesterday, so tonight we’d feast on spag boll. I’d feed the parrots, watch for the koala and listen out for the laughter that is the Kookaburra’s song.
Winter Olympics, a few tinnies and bed.
My God. It doesn’t get much better than this.
Goodnight.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Day 41 - Monday at Wye.
When we got ourselves organised, and it didn’t take long because we still had no power from last nights thunder storms we decided to go into Apollo Bay for breakfast.
It was a grey old morning and not really the sort of weather that would encourage a drive in the country. Decisions, decisions. We’d get something to eat first.
I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t really function in the morning until that first cup of hot coffee goes down my neck.
It’s probably better than the first pint after days golf on a hot summers day. I’m saying probably because it’s been that long since I’ve had the sun on my clubs, it’s like trying to remember the first, or in my case the last time you had your end away.
Breakfast was really good. I’d eggs Benedict, a dish that Margaret hasn’t perfected yet! And she had scrambled eggs on toast, both with delicious coffee. We chose the Great Ocean Road Deli and Restaurant, all shiny and smartly modern looking, because it was the first restaurant as you come in from the east. Anyway, I was starving.
Like nomads, we’d nothing planned so we set off west. Port Fairy, originally named Portaferry, but changed for whatever reason, was to be our destination.
A bit optimistic really since it was 200 kms up the road and some of those very twisty coast roads.
Still.
Our first bit of nosiness was Otway National Forest. This had featured a lot in my homework on the region. It’s enormous, and this entrance drew us like squirrels. We drove for about 12 kms on gravel roads that were still damp from yesterdays storm. By the time we got back out onto tarmac the wee black Nissan had the colouring of a badger! It was pleasant enough driving through the rain forest. Here and there w saw bits of wildlife, a roo bouncing across the road right in front of us, hosts of different birds including Rosellas Blue Wrens Parrots, Koalas, but there was very little bird song in the air.
We came across a waterfall; Hopetoun Falls. It was spectacular, again because of all the rain yesterday. We had to negotiate over two hundred steps, at this stage we weren’t into counting them, unlike later on in the trip, a tad exhausting but well worth it. Funny isn’t it, the way you go down steep steps quicker than you go back up.
Onwards to the Twelve Apostles, a very beautiful area, with loads of tourists, and heliflights by the dozen. We decided against the aerial views instead taking the walking routes instead. There is a link to this place here, as it merits a more detailed description than I can offer.
There is one constant in this fair land. No matter where you go, where you roam, you will always without exception be accompanied by several Orientals. It’s a bit like living in a Chinese restaurant. You may not always see Caucasians but you’ll always find a wee chinky!
Delicious.
There were two of us, obviously, on this trip. And sometimes one of these people says something but mean something else. This was one of those days.
Port Fairy was going to be a long drive, especially as we stopped every time something interesting loomed up.
Instead of the 200 kms drive, it was shortened drastically at 60 because one of us was getting tired.
We’d arrived at Port Campbell, a pretty in a postcard way fishing village. It was hot. We were thirsty. We called in somewhere for a beer. Not much happened in this village, we discovered this as the locals scrutinised us from their vantage point at the village hotel / bar. It felt as though we were invading their space, so we turned around and started the drive back to Wye River.
“Never mind” I thought. It can only improve.
Nicola and Trevor had mentioned a restaurant beside Apollo Bay. They had eaten in it previously and found it to be very good. We found it as well and decided to eat out tonight. Chris’s Restaurant is run by, wait, if you follow the link it will explain all. Chris turned out to be every bit as pleasant as the web site says. The food, while not Michelin starred was every bit as good as Nicola had said. It’s best to book this place and ask for a window seat. Trust me, if we were back there I would.
Having left Chris’s and drank two drinks only we were heading back to base. A couple of cold beers and the winter Olympics awaited. We knew the beer would be cold because the lights were on in the houses a we drove past them.
Oh I forgot. On one of the more twistier sections of the road home I nearly ran over a Wallaby. It was munching on the grass verge, but leapt into a bush as we passed it about a metre away.
All day with nothing to do but drive around exploring. Finding interesting sites to store away in the memory larder. Something to feast on when back at home on a cold winter night.
Tonight was not winter, not cold, but having enjoyed my nightcap, the bed called out to me, “Nicky, put that friggin pen down and get in here”.
I did.
It was a grey old morning and not really the sort of weather that would encourage a drive in the country. Decisions, decisions. We’d get something to eat first.
I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t really function in the morning until that first cup of hot coffee goes down my neck.
It’s probably better than the first pint after days golf on a hot summers day. I’m saying probably because it’s been that long since I’ve had the sun on my clubs, it’s like trying to remember the first, or in my case the last time you had your end away.
Breakfast was really good. I’d eggs Benedict, a dish that Margaret hasn’t perfected yet! And she had scrambled eggs on toast, both with delicious coffee. We chose the Great Ocean Road Deli and Restaurant, all shiny and smartly modern looking, because it was the first restaurant as you come in from the east. Anyway, I was starving.
Like nomads, we’d nothing planned so we set off west. Port Fairy, originally named Portaferry, but changed for whatever reason, was to be our destination.
A bit optimistic really since it was 200 kms up the road and some of those very twisty coast roads.
Still.
Our first bit of nosiness was Otway National Forest. This had featured a lot in my homework on the region. It’s enormous, and this entrance drew us like squirrels. We drove for about 12 kms on gravel roads that were still damp from yesterdays storm. By the time we got back out onto tarmac the wee black Nissan had the colouring of a badger! It was pleasant enough driving through the rain forest. Here and there w saw bits of wildlife, a roo bouncing across the road right in front of us, hosts of different birds including Rosellas Blue Wrens Parrots, Koalas, but there was very little bird song in the air.
We came across a waterfall; Hopetoun Falls. It was spectacular, again because of all the rain yesterday. We had to negotiate over two hundred steps, at this stage we weren’t into counting them, unlike later on in the trip, a tad exhausting but well worth it. Funny isn’t it, the way you go down steep steps quicker than you go back up.
Onwards to the Twelve Apostles, a very beautiful area, with loads of tourists, and heliflights by the dozen. We decided against the aerial views instead taking the walking routes instead. There is a link to this place here, as it merits a more detailed description than I can offer.
There is one constant in this fair land. No matter where you go, where you roam, you will always without exception be accompanied by several Orientals. It’s a bit like living in a Chinese restaurant. You may not always see Caucasians but you’ll always find a wee chinky!
Delicious.
There were two of us, obviously, on this trip. And sometimes one of these people says something but mean something else. This was one of those days.
Port Fairy was going to be a long drive, especially as we stopped every time something interesting loomed up.
Instead of the 200 kms drive, it was shortened drastically at 60 because one of us was getting tired.
We’d arrived at Port Campbell, a pretty in a postcard way fishing village. It was hot. We were thirsty. We called in somewhere for a beer. Not much happened in this village, we discovered this as the locals scrutinised us from their vantage point at the village hotel / bar. It felt as though we were invading their space, so we turned around and started the drive back to Wye River.
“Never mind” I thought. It can only improve.
Nicola and Trevor had mentioned a restaurant beside Apollo Bay. They had eaten in it previously and found it to be very good. We found it as well and decided to eat out tonight. Chris’s Restaurant is run by, wait, if you follow the link it will explain all. Chris turned out to be every bit as pleasant as the web site says. The food, while not Michelin starred was every bit as good as Nicola had said. It’s best to book this place and ask for a window seat. Trust me, if we were back there I would.
Having left Chris’s and drank two drinks only we were heading back to base. A couple of cold beers and the winter Olympics awaited. We knew the beer would be cold because the lights were on in the houses a we drove past them.
Oh I forgot. On one of the more twistier sections of the road home I nearly ran over a Wallaby. It was munching on the grass verge, but leapt into a bush as we passed it about a metre away.
All day with nothing to do but drive around exploring. Finding interesting sites to store away in the memory larder. Something to feast on when back at home on a cold winter night.
Tonight was not winter, not cold, but having enjoyed my nightcap, the bed called out to me, “Nicky, put that friggin pen down and get in here”.
I did.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Day 40 - Sunday Feb 14th
Sunday morning sunshine. Awoke at ten past seven. This is not the place to sleep your life away. There is a gorgeous view to be had, and I'd like to spot the Koala. Coffee in hand I went onto the veranda to greet the new day. I was greeted by an army of birds all trying to out sing each other.
Can't remember if we did breakfast or had it at the store come cafe but we did go for a drive up to the next wee hamlet. There are a powerful lot of cigars about here!
Kennet River or more specifically, Grey River Road has a lot of youngish Gum or Eucalyptus trees. There is something like four hundred species of this tree, but only three I think attract Koalas to live and eat in them.
Grey River Road has an abundance of them, and an equally large number of Koalas. We drove up this road for about a mile and saw twenty odd of the wee fur balls. That is quite magical, but don't ever expect them to be energetic. The busiest they get is when they scratch themselves.
We went back to the house, Trevor was keen to show me how to do beer can chicken on the barby and I was a keen student.
Lunch was lovely; the chicken will definitely be on the Rossdale Menu this year.
Time for farewells. Trevor had a long drive in front of him, and it was threatening rain.
We were in the meantime having a wee drink on the veranda enjoying the sounds and smells of the bush. Life is good, until the Australian rain comes a calling.
Huge peels of thunder and equally vivid flashes of lightning, which incidentally lit up the whole ocean. Spectacular. We'd already done Thunderstorms at Nicola's and got bored easily. We wanted something almost as thrilling so we got the scrabble out. I was just winning when without warning, the power went off. Where are the candles I thought? I'd seen a torch earlier on the landing beside the bush fire evacuation bag. Aha, like a young Adam I prowled about looking for the candles. None. Nothing until I found another torch in the larder.
Don't forget we were out in the wilderness here. Not an outside light to be seen anywhere.
Spooky.
We went to bed; it wasn't early, about 11:40 or so.
This was Valentines Day, neither flowers nor cards. Maybe next year, eh Nicola. Yesterday was Kim's birthday. We couldn't get a signal on our phones so there were no choruses of Happy Birthday to You down the line. Later maybe.
Can't remember if we did breakfast or had it at the store come cafe but we did go for a drive up to the next wee hamlet. There are a powerful lot of cigars about here!
Kennet River or more specifically, Grey River Road has a lot of youngish Gum or Eucalyptus trees. There is something like four hundred species of this tree, but only three I think attract Koalas to live and eat in them.
Grey River Road has an abundance of them, and an equally large number of Koalas. We drove up this road for about a mile and saw twenty odd of the wee fur balls. That is quite magical, but don't ever expect them to be energetic. The busiest they get is when they scratch themselves.
We went back to the house, Trevor was keen to show me how to do beer can chicken on the barby and I was a keen student.
Lunch was lovely; the chicken will definitely be on the Rossdale Menu this year.
Time for farewells. Trevor had a long drive in front of him, and it was threatening rain.
We were in the meantime having a wee drink on the veranda enjoying the sounds and smells of the bush. Life is good, until the Australian rain comes a calling.
Huge peels of thunder and equally vivid flashes of lightning, which incidentally lit up the whole ocean. Spectacular. We'd already done Thunderstorms at Nicola's and got bored easily. We wanted something almost as thrilling so we got the scrabble out. I was just winning when without warning, the power went off. Where are the candles I thought? I'd seen a torch earlier on the landing beside the bush fire evacuation bag. Aha, like a young Adam I prowled about looking for the candles. None. Nothing until I found another torch in the larder.
Don't forget we were out in the wilderness here. Not an outside light to be seen anywhere.
Spooky.
We went to bed; it wasn't early, about 11:40 or so.
This was Valentines Day, neither flowers nor cards. Maybe next year, eh Nicola. Yesterday was Kim's birthday. We couldn't get a signal on our phones so there were no choruses of Happy Birthday to You down the line. Later maybe.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Day 39 - The Wye's and wherefores
So, this was Saturday.
This is the day we go off to the coast and stay at the home of John And Rosalie Hudson. They extended the courtesy of their holiday home without ever having met us. We had met at their Grandson Max's twelth birthday party. Huddle and Yvonne (our interpretation) the parents of Max and Alex.
We four were going to Wye River, a small coastal hamlet on the Great Ocean Road.
We'd been told it was a lovely place in a wood, with views over the ocean.
Since we'd bought pretty much all that we needed, except for beer and bread which Trevor thoughtfully supplied on the way down, we loaded up Trevors' car with bedding food drink and everything else M could find.
We'd booked a hire car, because it was probably the only thing unanavailable to us elsewhere, but transport or lack of it would have made life really difficult down there.
I picked the car up not far from Nicolas' and as I was leaving the premises I depressed the clutch in the middle of a right turn. Sadly though, it was'nt a clutch. You do'nt get one in an automatic. The wee Nissan screeched to a halt. Mmm I thiught, good brakes. The car that was approaching from my right had a really nice driver in it. He never even sounded his horn. Why ca'nt all cars be the same. They could put a let on clutch in them for people like me. I've survived over forty years on a clutch, so they ca'nt be all that bad!!
Anyway. What's done is done.
We sped off in the direction of the Westgate Bridge. This would take us over the Yarra and down past Geelong to the coast.
Aparently it's excactly 100 miles from Melbournes main post office to the Wye River stores. On a straight road it could be reached in say ninety minutes. The road down is not straight, in fact like the Antrim Coast road it's a tad bendy in places. Having said that, it's one of the worlds most scenic drives.
Nicola And Trevor would be stying with us tonight, making sure we knew where everything was, and how it all worked.
Another of Trevors jobs would be to show us how to find the house. It was up a very steep and twisting road, half a K in from the road. We'd have had great difficulty finding it, there are only about eight other detached houses on the road.
On first appearance it could'nt be called impressive. Not until you went through the front door, into a Tardus like building. Built on two levels, with a large terrace on two sides of both. The views were special, especially when you found the koala up one of the many trees that surround the house. The Great Ocean road is aout five hundred feet below. The house sits above a lot of the trees planted further down the hill.
Our first visitors were three King Parrots. They swooped down as soon as we went out onto the veranda. Sadly, we'd no fod for them so they lost interest and flew off to spread the word of our arrival, possibly.
I really should go on about the very clever layout of the house, but it's the views you see. From three sides you are hidden by the tall gum trees, the fourth is the roadway up. Two sides let you see far out into the ocean. All around is birdsong.
At the bottom of the hill and slightly further along the road is the local store and the local hotel. We went down there for a couple of beers after settling in. Suddenly we were all starving, time was marching on. We went back to the house and had a barby.
Filled to the boots we sat with a DVD, Kenny, all about a plumber who works with sh1t all day. Still, the dinner stayed down.
Oh dear, ten thirty and knackered. It's been a busy day and lots to see tomorrow, so off to bed.
We never even went to bed this early on our honeymoon.
This is the day we go off to the coast and stay at the home of John And Rosalie Hudson. They extended the courtesy of their holiday home without ever having met us. We had met at their Grandson Max's twelth birthday party. Huddle and Yvonne (our interpretation) the parents of Max and Alex.
We four were going to Wye River, a small coastal hamlet on the Great Ocean Road.
We'd been told it was a lovely place in a wood, with views over the ocean.
Since we'd bought pretty much all that we needed, except for beer and bread which Trevor thoughtfully supplied on the way down, we loaded up Trevors' car with bedding food drink and everything else M could find.
We'd booked a hire car, because it was probably the only thing unanavailable to us elsewhere, but transport or lack of it would have made life really difficult down there.
I picked the car up not far from Nicolas' and as I was leaving the premises I depressed the clutch in the middle of a right turn. Sadly though, it was'nt a clutch. You do'nt get one in an automatic. The wee Nissan screeched to a halt. Mmm I thiught, good brakes. The car that was approaching from my right had a really nice driver in it. He never even sounded his horn. Why ca'nt all cars be the same. They could put a let on clutch in them for people like me. I've survived over forty years on a clutch, so they ca'nt be all that bad!!
Anyway. What's done is done.
We sped off in the direction of the Westgate Bridge. This would take us over the Yarra and down past Geelong to the coast.
Aparently it's excactly 100 miles from Melbournes main post office to the Wye River stores. On a straight road it could be reached in say ninety minutes. The road down is not straight, in fact like the Antrim Coast road it's a tad bendy in places. Having said that, it's one of the worlds most scenic drives.
Nicola And Trevor would be stying with us tonight, making sure we knew where everything was, and how it all worked.
Another of Trevors jobs would be to show us how to find the house. It was up a very steep and twisting road, half a K in from the road. We'd have had great difficulty finding it, there are only about eight other detached houses on the road.
On first appearance it could'nt be called impressive. Not until you went through the front door, into a Tardus like building. Built on two levels, with a large terrace on two sides of both. The views were special, especially when you found the koala up one of the many trees that surround the house. The Great Ocean road is aout five hundred feet below. The house sits above a lot of the trees planted further down the hill.
Our first visitors were three King Parrots. They swooped down as soon as we went out onto the veranda. Sadly, we'd no fod for them so they lost interest and flew off to spread the word of our arrival, possibly.
I really should go on about the very clever layout of the house, but it's the views you see. From three sides you are hidden by the tall gum trees, the fourth is the roadway up. Two sides let you see far out into the ocean. All around is birdsong.
At the bottom of the hill and slightly further along the road is the local store and the local hotel. We went down there for a couple of beers after settling in. Suddenly we were all starving, time was marching on. We went back to the house and had a barby.
Filled to the boots we sat with a DVD, Kenny, all about a plumber who works with sh1t all day. Still, the dinner stayed down.
Oh dear, ten thirty and knackered. It's been a busy day and lots to see tomorrow, so off to bed.
We never even went to bed this early on our honeymoon.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Friday Day 38
An early start for no reason. The sun was beaming through the window, pleading with us to get up and do something. I'd sometimes like to be an idle git, just to see how they get their day in. Anyway, I'd really have to try to finish the NZ section, because there will not be any means of doing it at our next port of call. Wye River, a place that I will be ranting about doubtlessly in the next section, but more of that anon.
Thunderstorms were forecast for today and they will arrive. Another thing they do well over here is forecast the weather. They have it off pat and they have to. No two days are the same, and the weather can fluctuate more than a wife's moods. This would be a day when the farthest we would travel is the local supermarket, to stock up with whatever else we'd need for our week away. In fact the girls would be doing that as I finish the blog off.
After all is said and done, obviously the NZ leg of the trip got blogged.
At home in the UK.
Time is an old adversary and slowly and quietly removes minutes and hours from your life when you get distracted.
My distraction started with a blinding flash of lightning, followed immediately by a sound like a jumbo jet crashing through the ceiling. Not that I've ever heard nor would like to hear it.
Torrential rain followed. Back home we do rain. It's what makes Ireland green. Sometimes it even rains heavy. There is misty rain, light rain, heavy rain, and this kind of rain. It looked like someone was on the roof with a fire hose.
The skies had opened, lightning strobed all around us, and the noise was almost scary. There is a storm drain beside Nicolas house. Within fifteen minutes of the storm starting a two inch trickle had turned into a five foot torrent sweeping up everything in its path. Good job Mc Givern wasn't in there for a paddle I thought.
Nicola and Margaret weren't holding back though. Oh no. They were out the back under the veranda, and their only worry was keeping the cigarettes dry. "Get the Video" Nicola called out over the din. I put the video on and busy recording the downpour outside when she started shrieking. The torrent of water on the flat roof had created a shortcut down. Gravity you see. Dining room we saw. It was pouring through the roof, and running out of the light fitting. My blog and other relevant items were on the dining table and some were soaked. All hands to the decks, and we managed to get the place dried up. Meanwhile Nicola had phoned the letting people and Trevor. There would be someone round tomorrow to sort the roof out. Trevor arrived home to a spotless floor and a bemused smile. A smile that asked, Who is the drama queen?
We were to have a barby tonight, but Nicola got Trevor to put it on hold in case they didn't have anything to sit on.
Nicola had bought some sirloins earlier in the day and decided to BBQ them. This was a serious encroachment into the mascline domain of Trevor. They were cooked to perfection and all was ready for Trevors homecoming. Such a dutiful little housewife. Glad to see it runs in the family. No, I didn't say who's family!
All in all a fairly interesting day. We decided to have an earlyish night and Trevor did that odd thing that Ozzies do. Went for a beer.
An early start for no reason. The sun was beaming through the window, pleading with us to get up and do something. I'd sometimes like to be an idle git, just to see how they get their day in. Anyway, I'd really have to try to finish the NZ section, because there will not be any means of doing it at our next port of call. Wye River, a place that I will be ranting about doubtlessly in the next section, but more of that anon.
Thunderstorms were forecast for today and they will arrive. Another thing they do well over here is forecast the weather. They have it off pat and they have to. No two days are the same, and the weather can fluctuate more than a wife's moods. This would be a day when the farthest we would travel is the local supermarket, to stock up with whatever else we'd need for our week away. In fact the girls would be doing that as I finish the blog off.
After all is said and done, obviously the NZ leg of the trip got blogged.
At home in the UK.
Time is an old adversary and slowly and quietly removes minutes and hours from your life when you get distracted.
My distraction started with a blinding flash of lightning, followed immediately by a sound like a jumbo jet crashing through the ceiling. Not that I've ever heard nor would like to hear it.
Torrential rain followed. Back home we do rain. It's what makes Ireland green. Sometimes it even rains heavy. There is misty rain, light rain, heavy rain, and this kind of rain. It looked like someone was on the roof with a fire hose.
The skies had opened, lightning strobed all around us, and the noise was almost scary. There is a storm drain beside Nicolas house. Within fifteen minutes of the storm starting a two inch trickle had turned into a five foot torrent sweeping up everything in its path. Good job Mc Givern wasn't in there for a paddle I thought.
Nicola and Margaret weren't holding back though. Oh no. They were out the back under the veranda, and their only worry was keeping the cigarettes dry. "Get the Video" Nicola called out over the din. I put the video on and busy recording the downpour outside when she started shrieking. The torrent of water on the flat roof had created a shortcut down. Gravity you see. Dining room we saw. It was pouring through the roof, and running out of the light fitting. My blog and other relevant items were on the dining table and some were soaked. All hands to the decks, and we managed to get the place dried up. Meanwhile Nicola had phoned the letting people and Trevor. There would be someone round tomorrow to sort the roof out. Trevor arrived home to a spotless floor and a bemused smile. A smile that asked, Who is the drama queen?
We were to have a barby tonight, but Nicola got Trevor to put it on hold in case they didn't have anything to sit on.
Nicola had bought some sirloins earlier in the day and decided to BBQ them. This was a serious encroachment into the mascline domain of Trevor. They were cooked to perfection and all was ready for Trevors homecoming. Such a dutiful little housewife. Glad to see it runs in the family. No, I didn't say who's family!
All in all a fairly interesting day. We decided to have an earlyish night and Trevor did that odd thing that Ozzies do. Went for a beer.
New Zealand - Day 10
Travelled 33 kms
Early on our last day I heard very heavy raindrops on the roof of the van, but it didn't sound like heavy rain. Bizarre, I thought. Yesterday morning we were lulled with the rythmic clickety clack of the train and this morning Phil Collins was drumming on the roof of our van. After breakfast of whatever was left in the fridge M began to pack. I decided to turn the fire hose situated outside the van onto the very dirty van. We'd been to places the locals hadn't and this sometimes meant travelling on dusty unmetalled roads. The dust washed off easily though as the rain during the night had loosened it. I did the outside stuff at the same time, wishing to return the van in a good clean condition.
The Grand total of 2305 kms was driven around the South island NZ. We missed out on the most northern part, Blenheim and Picton, with the Marlborough wine region all around here. Margaret felt it would be a bridge too far to go that far north. I didn't know either, even though I really wanted to go there. In the end we didn't and it will always be a regret for me. In hind sight we could have done it rightly, and it would have been a complete tour.
Our final destination was to be 116kms away, on the near side of Christchurch. It was down to us to refill the gas bottle, and we were pointed to a place on the other,far side of Christchurch. It was another bummer that we didn't get to spend any time in this beautiful city so we detoured to rectify this problem and found the City centre to be almost dignified in its appearance and that of its incumbents. A city worthy of a few days on its own.
Sadly we made our way to the Adventure Camper Van rental company.
Handing over the van. No problem. No accidents nor incidents. Everything clean and working, except for the dodgy connection for the sat nav.
I was going to do a breakdown of costs on this and decided against it. This was not a holiday, it was more a journey of discovery. I needed to know if a camper van was better than a caravan in these circumstances. Would it be worth having one for long trips into Europe? Could it be done solo?
You bet it would.
This was a journey we'll never forget, and to the potential travellers like John and Hilda, whats keeping you?
Best Experiences. Again I was going to classify all we had done, but everything we did needed everything else to give it the magic.
The original plot was, Trevor would pick us up from the airport in Melbourne after NZ, and deliver us to his and Nicolas' place. Sadly Trevor had a late meeting in work so we would have to make our own way back. Jasis, we'd just driven around another country, how hard would it be to find Lynott Street. Arrived in Melbourne CBD at Southern Cross station only to face nightmare traffic in the rush hour. It was made worse by a none English speaking black taxi driver. All he said the whole way was yes, several times, and smiled.
We stayed at home tonight, and gibbered on about the trip until Nicolas' eyes glazed over and Trevor watched the crickt intently.
And so to bed, tired but still on a high caused by a fantastic trip in a fantastic country.
Early on our last day I heard very heavy raindrops on the roof of the van, but it didn't sound like heavy rain. Bizarre, I thought. Yesterday morning we were lulled with the rythmic clickety clack of the train and this morning Phil Collins was drumming on the roof of our van. After breakfast of whatever was left in the fridge M began to pack. I decided to turn the fire hose situated outside the van onto the very dirty van. We'd been to places the locals hadn't and this sometimes meant travelling on dusty unmetalled roads. The dust washed off easily though as the rain during the night had loosened it. I did the outside stuff at the same time, wishing to return the van in a good clean condition.
The Grand total of 2305 kms was driven around the South island NZ. We missed out on the most northern part, Blenheim and Picton, with the Marlborough wine region all around here. Margaret felt it would be a bridge too far to go that far north. I didn't know either, even though I really wanted to go there. In the end we didn't and it will always be a regret for me. In hind sight we could have done it rightly, and it would have been a complete tour.
Our final destination was to be 116kms away, on the near side of Christchurch. It was down to us to refill the gas bottle, and we were pointed to a place on the other,far side of Christchurch. It was another bummer that we didn't get to spend any time in this beautiful city so we detoured to rectify this problem and found the City centre to be almost dignified in its appearance and that of its incumbents. A city worthy of a few days on its own.
Sadly we made our way to the Adventure Camper Van rental company.
Handing over the van. No problem. No accidents nor incidents. Everything clean and working, except for the dodgy connection for the sat nav.
I was going to do a breakdown of costs on this and decided against it. This was not a holiday, it was more a journey of discovery. I needed to know if a camper van was better than a caravan in these circumstances. Would it be worth having one for long trips into Europe? Could it be done solo?
You bet it would.
This was a journey we'll never forget, and to the potential travellers like John and Hilda, whats keeping you?
Best Experiences. Again I was going to classify all we had done, but everything we did needed everything else to give it the magic.
The original plot was, Trevor would pick us up from the airport in Melbourne after NZ, and deliver us to his and Nicolas' place. Sadly Trevor had a late meeting in work so we would have to make our own way back. Jasis, we'd just driven around another country, how hard would it be to find Lynott Street. Arrived in Melbourne CBD at Southern Cross station only to face nightmare traffic in the rush hour. It was made worse by a none English speaking black taxi driver. All he said the whole way was yes, several times, and smiled.
We stayed at home tonight, and gibbered on about the trip until Nicolas' eyes glazed over and Trevor watched the crickt intently.
And so to bed, tired but still on a high caused by a fantastic trip in a fantastic country.
New Zealand - Day 9
Travelled 88 kms
We had to get up at 07:20 to get a choo choo.
Taieri Gorge Railway is a brilliant way to spend four hours. At $90 it’s not cheap but where can you do this sort of thing at home?
We had done a recce yesterday to find a suitable and accessible parking place for the camper van while we were away on the train. Simplicity itself, the car park at the station would let us park all day for $5. No worries mate.
Dunedin Railway Station is iconic with a capital I. It is one of the most photographed buildings in NZ. And the most photographed railway station in the world. It makes Central Station look like a badly made piece of Lego. Have a wee look at this.
We had our seats pre booked and climbed on board to find the Scottish couple along with an English couple in the seats beside us. What's the chances of that happening?
The train pulled out to start the two hour journey up through a steep sided gorge. Some of the features on this line are the huge cast iron viaducts the bridges built on precarious rock formations. Two very long tunnels and a couple of shorter ones. Tree lined valleys. Streams cascading seawards, one hundred metres below, sheep, millions of them, eking out enough to do them on the barren looking landscape. Various coloured cattle, mooing their greetings to us passers by. The train chugged along at a sedate 35kph, stopping very occasionally at designated locations. Where it stopped there would be about ten or so stalls being manned if you like by ladies from various Womens Institute Groups. Happy and smiling. I wondered if they were like that at home. They would offer the usual but nearly always home made tourist cak. All without exception as jolly as a farmers wife, indeed most probably were.
Naturally there was a Pullman offering hot and cold snacks and drinks. The service here was as slow as on the Otago Peninsular road. Luckily enough we'd brought our own food and drink, so only needed a cold beer after the furthermost stop. You might ask why I don't call the stops on the railway line, stations. Well I'd forgive you for that. You see, the stops were just that. A sign stating the stop and a pathway leading away from the track. No buildings apart from what looked like water storage huts.
Needless to say their re lots of photos taken on this journey. It was great to be able to look out of the window without the fear of crashing. And that was the train driver.
Clackety clack went the wheels and whoo whoo went the horn, which was very loud as it echoed around the valley, it was an admirable sight.
The journey back down to Dunedin was as spectacular because we spent most of it on the platform at the back of the carriage.
Back on Terra Ferma
Not getting to the steepest street in the world, which is in Dunedin is the only thing I wated to see but time or whatever was not on our side.
Margaret was anxious to get up as near to Christchurch for our hand over tomorrow. After a quick walk around the town centre where we called in to the i centre to thank our new friend and most helpful soul called Peter. He was, as his colleagues all were, really most helpful.
On the way up we saw the signpost for a certain place that had large boulders on display. I'd see them in Jane Dunns book and as was most of her writings, looked to be of interest. We found them on the beach ad they were very unusual. Almost totally round and differing in size from abot eighteen inches to over a yard in diameter. A couple were broken and thee turned out to be hollow. Strangely like something from "Cocoon". Then Margaret saw a movement on the beach about twenty feet from where we were standing. It was only a bleeddin great fur seal. He was basking in the warm sunshine and presented a perfect photo oppurtunity. I took one and decided to get a real close up. When I was no more than four feet from him he decided to turn to face me. Margaret narrowly missed a golden oppurtunity to see me run instead. I was between him and the sea, and any eejit knows this is not good.
Onwards we went, Margaret smirking at my cowardice and me wishing it was me taking a picture of her and the seal.
We decided to head on up to Ashburton. This is indeed a very nice town, even slightly industrial. It,s approach is lined with farmng machinery stores and garden centres. A bit like going into Ballymena.
As we were both vmished, and this would be our last night in New Zealand we decided to have a very nice meal. But Where? We spotted this hotel, which really, is another name for a pub and asked if they did food. We asked for a menu, and this is were it became evident they didn't get a lot of tourists through their doors. "It's up on the wall round the corner"! The barmaid countered. A quick look revealed a menu consisting of burgers and chips. We're looking for something a bit more substantial I said. Hoping I wouldn't annoy her almost threatening attitude. "Oh. A proper dinner is it?" "Yes please" " Well, you gotta go down there turn right and its called whatever.". "Dead on. We'll try that"
We found what she alluded to, but it looked like a Wetherspoons from the outside and this would not suit our final meal in NZ. We had had nothing to eat since about twelve, and that was the rolls on the train. I was losing weight, fast.
However I spotted a place entirely more suitable across the road behind some trees. We went over, and a charming waitress introduced herself along with the Braided River restaurant.
A first glimpse at the menu showed promise of food we all know and love. We weren't wrong. We started straight into the mains because the puddings showed a great deal of promise. If there's ever Rack of Lamb on a menu, you could put money on the fact it will be M's first choice, I'm the same with beef ribeye especially if served with Bernaise Sauce. A side of frsh asparagus filled the plates out nicely.This time would be no different, in fact the home of lamb and the high school of beef proved to be faultless. Absolutely the best meal of the trip. Along with a goodly cheesboard for one and a Mixed Berry cheesecake. A beer G & T and two glasses of wine, all for $127.50 or £59.
Once again we entered Campsite into old TomTom and he led us to Ashburon Holiday Park. For $26 or £12 we had our place for the night. It was dark when we got in, and there were no lights in the part we decidd to set up in. To be honest we were both knackered from such an eventful day. Tonight will see us having our last Gins and beers under the Kiwi sky. All to soon we won't be able to say, " Look, you could nearly touch those stars". And it will come to soon.
New Zealand. For a such a small place in the grand scheme of things, your heart is bigger than probably every other country we've travelled in. You've howed us your naked beauty, your warm and very friendly people, your tumbling streams, and majestic mountains. If I had youth and the nuts, I'd be over there within months, to live. Pity, such a pity, it's so far away.
New Zealand - Day 8
Travelled 344 kms
It was cold last night, but this morning wow. Awoke once again to deep blue skies and the sun wrapping on the window like a tick man with a sponge!
It was a good night, no bites, for our first time here. We were going to get the bus into Dunedin town centre, about four kms away but decided to go to the i site first. Walking round town centres you can do at home, reluctantly. But this is not home, so. We’d get all the info and then bugger off up to see arguably the most majestic bird on the planet. We bought our tickets to visit the Alby Centre and while there we bought some tickets to go on a train journey tomorrow. It just keeps getting better.
The drive along the Otago Peninsular to the colony is special, very special. It’s only twenty-nine clicks long but you’re advised to allow an hour for the trip. There is a wee town on the coast called Portobello and it is one of the few places in the world that I’ve seen that I would be happy to live in. A real charmer of a place, not unlike Ballygalley. But with steroids and huge wow factor. Parts of the road have a sheer unprotected drop of hundreds of feet. The kind of road that makes you take your time. Unless you are a local. They scared the life out of us. I suppose they see the camper vans and think they'll buzz the tourists or maybe just show us their driving prowess. Anyway they went careering down the corkscrew like roads and disappeared never to be seen again, by us.
We found a chippy van on the way down and called in for a coffee. The poor girl running it would not last too long at home. It took twenty minutes for a coffee to arrive and another ten for our change! No, she did not get a tip other than to get her finger out. We got talking to a young German couple who were so sweet. Travelling brings out the best in people, and I believe the more you travel the more you have to offer the world.
What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do - especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road. ~William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways
The cost of the visit to see the albatrosses was $45. I wondered if good Prince Charlie had paid this on his visit a couple of years earlier. He got to get really up close and personal, but then he always does with big birds these days. We were in a protective hide, all air con and built in such a way that our presence could neither be seen nor heard by the outside world. It was magical watching the parent birds with their young. They only have one young every two years don't you know. A very worth while read is in the next read, a fascinating bird not unlike that one that used to be on "Countdown"!
The Royal Albatross. They are magnificent looking in flight but because of their sheer size they need wind to help get them airborne. Today was very still, as you'd imagine. Came all this way to witness something serenely magical and saw nothing. Well at least M was in good form! It was a very worthwhile trip, but if I was to do it again I'd check the weather forecast first. It's the wind you see.
While we were there we had tickets to see the "Disappearing Gun". This was a huge piece of armament installed to repel the threat of the Nazi attack all those years ago, that never happened.
The tour of its placement was very interesting, educational and well narrated, although the walk to the top of the hill to gain access is a bit of a killer.
A quick shopping trip was needed to replenish our food and drink stocks, so, as we'd seen Woolworths somewhere, we decided that would do nicely. Thank you.
Sods law. A brilliant term. I think it means if you really need your sat nav to guide you to the shops it will go down in a huff. That's what happened to ours. Bleedin cheek of it. We found Woollies and we got our shopping. We even tried to find a bureau de change, in this part of the world much, much better value than the banks!
To no avail. Still there was as usual the foolproof option of using Nicolas' Oz bank card. She very thoughtfully and far sightedly set this up for us before we came down.
A very good way to protect the pennies, though I must say again NZ is almost crime free.
We eventually made it back to the campsite. Tonight we'd be cooking in the camp kitchen. Sounds like something out of MASH or that other programme about the war, but cooking along with fellow travellers is brilliant. You get to see how and what other cultures eat etc. You exchange stories and give and get advice. On top of this, you us the facilities that are included in your site fee and save on your own costs! It was here that we met a couple from Scotland that had been living in Melbourne for years. They had got their van from the same company as us. Theirs was smaller and she wanted to se what we had. She was a bit of a nosey cow but nobody is perfect. This was not to be our last encounter with this girl as we would find out tomorrow.
We sat for a while under the blanket of a star bejewelled sky and drank a couple of gins. Why, we wondered, could it not always be like this?
It was cold last night, but this morning wow. Awoke once again to deep blue skies and the sun wrapping on the window like a tick man with a sponge!
It was a good night, no bites, for our first time here. We were going to get the bus into Dunedin town centre, about four kms away but decided to go to the i site first. Walking round town centres you can do at home, reluctantly. But this is not home, so. We’d get all the info and then bugger off up to see arguably the most majestic bird on the planet. We bought our tickets to visit the Alby Centre and while there we bought some tickets to go on a train journey tomorrow. It just keeps getting better.
The drive along the Otago Peninsular to the colony is special, very special. It’s only twenty-nine clicks long but you’re advised to allow an hour for the trip. There is a wee town on the coast called Portobello and it is one of the few places in the world that I’ve seen that I would be happy to live in. A real charmer of a place, not unlike Ballygalley. But with steroids and huge wow factor. Parts of the road have a sheer unprotected drop of hundreds of feet. The kind of road that makes you take your time. Unless you are a local. They scared the life out of us. I suppose they see the camper vans and think they'll buzz the tourists or maybe just show us their driving prowess. Anyway they went careering down the corkscrew like roads and disappeared never to be seen again, by us.
We found a chippy van on the way down and called in for a coffee. The poor girl running it would not last too long at home. It took twenty minutes for a coffee to arrive and another ten for our change! No, she did not get a tip other than to get her finger out. We got talking to a young German couple who were so sweet. Travelling brings out the best in people, and I believe the more you travel the more you have to offer the world.
What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do - especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road. ~William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways
The cost of the visit to see the albatrosses was $45. I wondered if good Prince Charlie had paid this on his visit a couple of years earlier. He got to get really up close and personal, but then he always does with big birds these days. We were in a protective hide, all air con and built in such a way that our presence could neither be seen nor heard by the outside world. It was magical watching the parent birds with their young. They only have one young every two years don't you know. A very worth while read is in the next read, a fascinating bird not unlike that one that used to be on "Countdown"!
The Royal Albatross. They are magnificent looking in flight but because of their sheer size they need wind to help get them airborne. Today was very still, as you'd imagine. Came all this way to witness something serenely magical and saw nothing. Well at least M was in good form! It was a very worthwhile trip, but if I was to do it again I'd check the weather forecast first. It's the wind you see.
While we were there we had tickets to see the "Disappearing Gun". This was a huge piece of armament installed to repel the threat of the Nazi attack all those years ago, that never happened.
The tour of its placement was very interesting, educational and well narrated, although the walk to the top of the hill to gain access is a bit of a killer.
A quick shopping trip was needed to replenish our food and drink stocks, so, as we'd seen Woolworths somewhere, we decided that would do nicely. Thank you.
Sods law. A brilliant term. I think it means if you really need your sat nav to guide you to the shops it will go down in a huff. That's what happened to ours. Bleedin cheek of it. We found Woollies and we got our shopping. We even tried to find a bureau de change, in this part of the world much, much better value than the banks!
To no avail. Still there was as usual the foolproof option of using Nicolas' Oz bank card. She very thoughtfully and far sightedly set this up for us before we came down.
A very good way to protect the pennies, though I must say again NZ is almost crime free.
We eventually made it back to the campsite. Tonight we'd be cooking in the camp kitchen. Sounds like something out of MASH or that other programme about the war, but cooking along with fellow travellers is brilliant. You get to see how and what other cultures eat etc. You exchange stories and give and get advice. On top of this, you us the facilities that are included in your site fee and save on your own costs! It was here that we met a couple from Scotland that had been living in Melbourne for years. They had got their van from the same company as us. Theirs was smaller and she wanted to se what we had. She was a bit of a nosey cow but nobody is perfect. This was not to be our last encounter with this girl as we would find out tomorrow.
We sat for a while under the blanket of a star bejewelled sky and drank a couple of gins. Why, we wondered, could it not always be like this?
New Zealand - Day 7
Travelled 282 kms
Oh dear, what a grey day. And it was raining. We’d planned to backtrack for 110kms to Slope Point. This is geographically the lowest point of mainland NZ. And then call in to interesting places on the way back and on through to Dunedin especially to see the Royal Albatrosses.
Slope Point. If you didn’t know it was there you wouldn’t even get out of your car to go and see it. You park in a tiny car park or lay by and walk over a couple of fields, here you will first see a white building and beside it a signpost that you won’t be able to read until you get further down the field. It’s a bit sad it’s not kept a bit better. Look at the picture. This sad, it was kinda strange being at almost the lowest point of the Eastern side of Earth. And yet it's only East compared to where we live, and South America particularly Chile is a lot more Southerly.
So it was at this early point of the day that Mr Sun decided to join us. He would be keeping us company for the rest of the day. A very welcome friend indeed.
After doing Slope Point we retraced our steps back to Curio Bay. Here we were to find a petrified forest, which according to the ould seadog was well worth a visit. It might have been years ago but now the forest wasn’t even a bush! There was assign explaining that visitors had gradually stole all the petrified wood and trees for souvenirs, and left nothing. Never mind that but. We went for a stroll to see if there was much sign of these things in the sandstone cliff face. There was no real signs, but on our way back we found two wee Yellow Eyed Penguin chicks playing on the rocks beside their wee house / nest. That really was worth the visit. We’d seen the mother from the distance but she’d cleared off to do the dishes or something.
On and on up the road, until we reached Waikawa where we pulled in at a chippy van (NZ style) to see what they did. Don't you just love the New Zealand place names. I’d a whitebait sammy and we’d both a coffee. The whitebait sammy was a two-egg omelette with wee spricks in it between two pieces of bread. It was well worth the money though because it kept repeating on me all morning. Different.
Cathedral Caves is another of those freaky geological mistakes that draw you to their beauty. Because they are accessed from the each, there is a window of opportunity to see them and this is governed by the tides. I think this is one of those times when a link will say it far better than I can.
After another drive towards our destination we came across Sawers Nature Reserve. This sort of place is duplicated the whole way round the Island, as indeed many parts of the Malbourne Sydney run. It was here we found McClean Falls. The only way to see them as a walk through the bush on well tended paths, and then up a series of three very steep inclines. The walk itself was really pleasant and the sight that was to greet us would be even more appealing. These were quite spectacular falls and would be awesome after the thaw in Spring, but we were being drawn to yet another waterfall, this one named after one of the mightiest.
Niagra Falls, again on the Southern Scenic Route, were clearly signposted so obviously not one to miss. They were to be found up a wee path, and only a couple of hundred meters away. I found it odd that there was not a mountain where they could descend nor the thunder of falling water and yet we were so close. We found a sign declaring that some wag journalist some years ago had found these falls and decided the only way to get tourists to come and visit was to exaggerate a bit. The water, after we had found the river fell about three feet, but hey at least it was wet. I remember when writing notes for this thinking " They were awesome in their smallness"
Margaret was writing down interesting place names on the way through. Places like Tatuka Bay Conservation Area, alas the other places require an expert in hieroglyphics to decipher the writing. Needless to say all beautiful.
After a couple more stops we finally arrived at Dunedin. This was to be our double night stop, the only one of this trip. We found Dunedin Holiday Park and it really was a treasure. Very nearly as good as five star but only $34 per night. It has eighty pitches including tent sites cabins and all-inclusive bungalows. The facilities are excellent and really child friendly.
Earlier in the day we’d been to a farmers market in Queenstown and among other things had bought a lovely loin of lamb. Well it is lamb land! Sweet potato and locally grown, (naturally) peppers and stuff.
I cooked the lamb on one of the outdoor bbq’s along with grilled veg and homemade wedges. Delicious, you get a fair old appetite camping!
A word of caution about the outdoor barrbies. They are nearly all run on electricity and take a lot longer to get hot than you'd imagine. Err on the long side of pre heating if you ever get to use one of these. Even more important, leave it as you found it. All the barbies except one that we used were spotless. The only soiled one in five star Creek Syde!
Just after dinner it turned really cold, compared to what we were having. We retired to the van and put the heating on. Some facts, the heating is run on LPG, the fridge on solar power, the water is heated by the engine. The air con is not really designed for the sort of heat we were getting. I think I might have mentioned this before but I can’t see it anywhere.
Oh dear, what a grey day. And it was raining. We’d planned to backtrack for 110kms to Slope Point. This is geographically the lowest point of mainland NZ. And then call in to interesting places on the way back and on through to Dunedin especially to see the Royal Albatrosses.
Slope Point. If you didn’t know it was there you wouldn’t even get out of your car to go and see it. You park in a tiny car park or lay by and walk over a couple of fields, here you will first see a white building and beside it a signpost that you won’t be able to read until you get further down the field. It’s a bit sad it’s not kept a bit better. Look at the picture. This sad, it was kinda strange being at almost the lowest point of the Eastern side of Earth. And yet it's only East compared to where we live, and South America particularly Chile is a lot more Southerly.
So it was at this early point of the day that Mr Sun decided to join us. He would be keeping us company for the rest of the day. A very welcome friend indeed.
After doing Slope Point we retraced our steps back to Curio Bay. Here we were to find a petrified forest, which according to the ould seadog was well worth a visit. It might have been years ago but now the forest wasn’t even a bush! There was assign explaining that visitors had gradually stole all the petrified wood and trees for souvenirs, and left nothing. Never mind that but. We went for a stroll to see if there was much sign of these things in the sandstone cliff face. There was no real signs, but on our way back we found two wee Yellow Eyed Penguin chicks playing on the rocks beside their wee house / nest. That really was worth the visit. We’d seen the mother from the distance but she’d cleared off to do the dishes or something.
On and on up the road, until we reached Waikawa where we pulled in at a chippy van (NZ style) to see what they did. Don't you just love the New Zealand place names. I’d a whitebait sammy and we’d both a coffee. The whitebait sammy was a two-egg omelette with wee spricks in it between two pieces of bread. It was well worth the money though because it kept repeating on me all morning. Different.
Cathedral Caves is another of those freaky geological mistakes that draw you to their beauty. Because they are accessed from the each, there is a window of opportunity to see them and this is governed by the tides. I think this is one of those times when a link will say it far better than I can.
After another drive towards our destination we came across Sawers Nature Reserve. This sort of place is duplicated the whole way round the Island, as indeed many parts of the Malbourne Sydney run. It was here we found McClean Falls. The only way to see them as a walk through the bush on well tended paths, and then up a series of three very steep inclines. The walk itself was really pleasant and the sight that was to greet us would be even more appealing. These were quite spectacular falls and would be awesome after the thaw in Spring, but we were being drawn to yet another waterfall, this one named after one of the mightiest.
Niagra Falls, again on the Southern Scenic Route, were clearly signposted so obviously not one to miss. They were to be found up a wee path, and only a couple of hundred meters away. I found it odd that there was not a mountain where they could descend nor the thunder of falling water and yet we were so close. We found a sign declaring that some wag journalist some years ago had found these falls and decided the only way to get tourists to come and visit was to exaggerate a bit. The water, after we had found the river fell about three feet, but hey at least it was wet. I remember when writing notes for this thinking " They were awesome in their smallness"
Margaret was writing down interesting place names on the way through. Places like Tatuka Bay Conservation Area, alas the other places require an expert in hieroglyphics to decipher the writing. Needless to say all beautiful.
After a couple more stops we finally arrived at Dunedin. This was to be our double night stop, the only one of this trip. We found Dunedin Holiday Park and it really was a treasure. Very nearly as good as five star but only $34 per night. It has eighty pitches including tent sites cabins and all-inclusive bungalows. The facilities are excellent and really child friendly.
Earlier in the day we’d been to a farmers market in Queenstown and among other things had bought a lovely loin of lamb. Well it is lamb land! Sweet potato and locally grown, (naturally) peppers and stuff.
I cooked the lamb on one of the outdoor bbq’s along with grilled veg and homemade wedges. Delicious, you get a fair old appetite camping!
A word of caution about the outdoor barrbies. They are nearly all run on electricity and take a lot longer to get hot than you'd imagine. Err on the long side of pre heating if you ever get to use one of these. Even more important, leave it as you found it. All the barbies except one that we used were spotless. The only soiled one in five star Creek Syde!
Just after dinner it turned really cold, compared to what we were having. We retired to the van and put the heating on. Some facts, the heating is run on LPG, the fridge on solar power, the water is heated by the engine. The air con is not really designed for the sort of heat we were getting. I think I might have mentioned this before but I can’t see it anywhere.
New Zealand - Day 6
Travelled 136 kms.
Oh dear, we awoke at eight to a dull grey morning. Was all that lovely weather away?
No, by the time I came out of the shower at 8:45 it was wall-to-wall sunshine. Well, it is NZ.
The showers were great. Heated ceilings, no use at this time of year but when the snow is deep and the skiers are about a very welcome addition I’d think. Tiled and shiny floors, real bath mats, and spotless.
Let me try to explain how busy we’ve been. I thought we were running out of time so decided to plan the last four days carefully. Everything was planned, we’d have to stick to it or have to get back to Christchurch in one really long drive. After all the careful planning I discovered it was only Saturday instead of Sunday. A sure sign of a busy holiday.
And so to the gondolas. This was another excellent morning, and some of the photos should be awesome Adam.
M was more afraid of this than she was of the Helicopter. For a moment I thought we’d not be doing this trip but she stuck it out and we made it. The trip up was recorded on video, as was the stunning sight that waited for us aloft. We had a coffee and a famous NZ pie for lunch while watching the view from our lofty peak. This really had been a cracker morning.
Before we left Queenstown we made our way as usual to the local i site. I wanted to go to Invercargill, which is right down the bottom, but the girl said it would be much better to go through the Catlins, proclaiming it to be her favourite part of NZ.
Our drive took us through the town of Gore and on through the smaller town of Clinton. Along the Clinton Highway. Anything ring a bell?
This was indeed rural NZ, passing through Balclutha, another quaint place where I’m sure people don’t even lock their doors.
We found Kaka Point a tiny town sitting on the coast and a nice wee pub right in the middle. I parked up beside the pub, and while waiting for M to disembark the owner of the pub came to the window “ I wouldn’t park there mate, if the constabulary come they will book you”. He explained. So because he was so nice we went in to taste his wares. We got talking to an old fisherman and he told us where we should visit. The pub had the usual I sign outside and when I asked the owner about brochures he pointed to a stand with about four different publications on it and said, “ That’s pretty much it”. He showed us where our next camp would be, which was just around the corner from his place.
We parked up at Kaka Point Holiday Park and took the old seadogs advice and went to see the penguins coming home from the sea and a days hunting. This was something else. These little fellows come out of the surf like wee Charlie Chaplins. Then they stand and preen themselves in the fading sunlight before waddling off to their homes. This was yet another magical thing to see.
Tonight we cooked dinner in the camp kitchen. Every site has one and they are all kept spotlessly clean. The brilliant thing about doing this is you get to meet fellow travellers and see what people from other cultures eat. It’s certainly not champ, let me tell you. We’ve seen some rare concoctions, like noodles and a raw carrot! We went over at about 7:30 and it was fairly quiet, but by 8:30 all the fellow campers were in and it was jolly and at the same time everyone looked knackered. This place has about forty pitches and a couple of Chalets. It’s hedged off into bays of around eight pitches, which makes it all very cosy.
After yarning awhile with like-minded people we went to bed. Another fine day in front of us.
New Zealand - Day 5
Travelled 136 kms
We had a brilliant sleep, best so far. Yet again we awoke to brilliant sunshine and the promise of another fine day in paradise. Even better, there would not be a big lot of driving today. Our route would take us this way.
We drove up through Kawarau Gorge This is so easy. I’ll just put the route we followed and people much better than me can tell you more clearly what the plot is.
Our first experience was Roaring Meg, and Gentle Annie. Two very different rivers, which hurtle through this deep gorge. Legend says they got their names from two “ladies” being taken up to a gold miners hut. Roaring Meg was a flame haired waitress at a nearby hotel, and whilst crossing the river got her feet wet. This resulted in her giving off and ranting. The way they do! Gentle Annie however is not so deep, and the other Gal never got wet, and kept quiet. The way they don’t!
Gibbston is more of an area than an actual town. It is here that you will find a lovely cheesery.
Naturally we had to call in. They do what is now called Boutique Cheeses. I call them magical. A very helpful video, narrated by a Belfast man talks you through the various cheeses. Explaining the different processes used to perfect their art, only makes you crave even more for a piece of dairy from Mary. Yes a lovely lady is on hand to let you taste as many or as few as you wish. We tried a few, and decided to get some Kawarau Blue, Wakatipu Brie, Glenroy, and one more that escapes me. Mind you it never escaped my gub!
Another very short drive and we found something even more interesting. Yes and M wouldn’t even have a go. I was a very willing participant but only if she went first!
A big sign invited passers by to come and view for free. It was seeringly warm so we thought it would be a good idea to use their aircon rather than our own. It was a splendid break, we watched a few brave and all of them young and eager participants. A young female member of staff came over, as they do, and tried to coax us to have a go. I said that M should try it first as I was doing the driving. But even after watching intently there was no movement from M. Nor me! Not even a bowel one. After seeing exactly how it’s done I admire the jumpers even more. The eldest participant had been a ninety four years old, and I thought, he has seen and done everything, it wouldn’t matter if the rope broke anyway.
A little way further on we arrived at our next destination. Queenstown. Our home here would be in the Top ten holiday park of Creeksyde. It is a very well run site with a lot of nice touches, for instance, the showers have heated ceilings! The blurb will tell you all about it. Unless you’re into camping this will probably bore you. Suffice to say at $56 it was the most expensive and only five star site we went to. The pitches are all grassed and well kept; there are relics from the days of steam dotted about the whole place. M caught up with the washing while I lazed about watch TV in the communal lounge, in a big soft armchair!
There is a lovely vibe about this town. It’s one of the biggest towns we went to so we thought we should go and mix. We found a wee pub where we could people watch and how I enjoy that. I’m sure M likes it as well but maybe for a different reason! The funky Red Rock sits on a corner with one side looking down into the town and the other looking up at the mountains. It was just dead on, a great exercise in relaxing and admiring the view, or is it the phew?
The Lonely Planet book on New Zealand recommended the Fish Bone Restaurant in Queenstown, as one of their favourites so we gave it a go. We had starters, as I had yet to taste the Green Lip Mussels that I’d tried at home. Out of the Freezer!
Well now, M had the Prawns to start and guess what I had. Both superb, my mussels were piled high and so different to the ones back home. M had the lamb shanks while I settled for the catch of the day. A chunky meaty type of fish called Blue W something. I should have written it down but you know how it is. The service was very efficient, our waiter was a wee lad from Glasgow called Stuart. What else? There were also a number of Norn Iron accents in the room, along with a party of four thrushes, sat right beside us. Cheek!
On our way in to Queenstown we’d spotted the Gondolas. It was like a cable car taking folk up to a restaurant five hundred metres above the car park. When we were coming back to the campsite much later we could see the lights of the restaurant and absolutely nothing else, high above us. It was like a flying saucer standing still. We got home tired out at 11:30. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.
New Zealand - Day 4
Travelled 314 kms
Our free camping target had been reached but at a price. Our limbs resembled someone with a terrible case of chicken pox. We itched constantly.
And we drove on manfully.
At this time of day NZ is still asleep, or up here in the mountains at any rate. We passed two cars in 20 kms and three in 65 kms. This was driving where the speed could easily go down to twenty-five kms an hour because of the twisting roads. We saw more dead possums than living people. Not many folk can say that! Because we’d such an early start we decided to go straight to Wanaka. Every town I mention will have a dedicated web site and if anything in particular grabs your attention and you’ve nothing to do. Google them.
We stopped at a very small village to try to find a bakery and some brekkies. We found a supermarket, but they only had pan bread that had clearly just come out of a fridge or freezer. We spotted a member of staff, standing looking out of the window. With the long mane of light brown hair, and a size twelve figure I said “Excuse me girl, is there a bakery”? This guy turned around and told me there was not. We left the shop hurriedly and went back to the van. As we were parked up near a public toilet I did the usual housekeeping tasks while M made coffee and cooked the last of the bacon and stuff in the adjoining car park. We’re nothing if not romantic.
On one of our stops we called in at Fantail falls. Not spectacular in any way, but there location tucked in off the road, made them a pleasant surprise. They carried a lot of water, and the river was running faster than most. We thought we might get to see the huge waterfall we saw from the helicopter, it was spectacular even from way up in the air. We never found it but there’s a picture of it on Flicker.
Time to head for Wanaka. Lake Wanaka is a place to take a deep breath and relax. Protected from the outside world by the grandeur of the mountains, you’re enclosed in a hidden paradise.
I stole that intro from their web site. These guys can put it so much better than me.
We were spellbound by the beauty of the countryside we were driving through. Lake Wanaka was our companion for many, many kilometers. We drove along side it for over an hour and the road then took us to the adjoining valley. I’m guessing this was to make travelling easier all those years ago. Mountains and lakes dominate the area, and this could have been an easier way to reach the settlement that was Wanaka.
We found Lake Wanaka Holiday Park. It was $16 each and very tired and in need of some TLC.. We parked up under a stand of pine trees in the shade. It was 32°. No matter what the blurb says, we found it dull and uninteresting. The town of Wanaka itself was a different story altogether. It is spotless with no litter and no graffiti. This part of the world has a very small crime rate. In all our travels in NZ we saw three cops, and two of them were at the airport!
Since this was the first large town we’d been in since I realized we needed a lead to charge the video camera, we set off to get one.
Before we got in to the town proper we past the top end of Lake Wanaka. We couldn't help ourselves from stopping and sitting under a tree to gaze down the valley with the lake at its feet and the mighty Southern Alps at it's head and shoulders. Snow capped mountains in the distance reflected off the azure water at our feet. The arid but also forested sides of the valley completed the picture on the surface of the water. One of those moments which just make you thank God to be alive.
As usual we found the local i site. The very nice lady in there told us where to look. We walked, and walked, and walked. The heat was fierce and the sun punished us for leaving the proper lead in Melbourne. Eventually we found the place we needed, and yes it was at the top of a very steep hill. The owner of the shop had none, but he rang round all of Wanaka searching for one for us to no avail.
We were starving, knackered and indeed thirsty. We saw a gourmet burger place and made for that. A couple of large delicious homemade burgers and beers later we were sorted. On the way back to the van, and we were less than two blocks away we found a Kodak shop and thought it was worth a try for a lead or battery. They didn’t stock what I needed but they did charge the battery overnight for $10. Worth every cent, now I could take more videos to bore you even more. Hallelujah baby.
We just ambled back to the site and had a two-hour siesta. It had been a very long day. We just lazed about for the rest of the evening. No Sand Flies here, so we’d have a lazy morning tomorrow. Eating in camps is always simple, nearly, so tonight we feasted on Hot Dogs and lovely NZ Brie. We stayed up really late, not going to bed until 11:30………
Our free camping target had been reached but at a price. Our limbs resembled someone with a terrible case of chicken pox. We itched constantly.
And we drove on manfully.
At this time of day NZ is still asleep, or up here in the mountains at any rate. We passed two cars in 20 kms and three in 65 kms. This was driving where the speed could easily go down to twenty-five kms an hour because of the twisting roads. We saw more dead possums than living people. Not many folk can say that! Because we’d such an early start we decided to go straight to Wanaka. Every town I mention will have a dedicated web site and if anything in particular grabs your attention and you’ve nothing to do. Google them.
We stopped at a very small village to try to find a bakery and some brekkies. We found a supermarket, but they only had pan bread that had clearly just come out of a fridge or freezer. We spotted a member of staff, standing looking out of the window. With the long mane of light brown hair, and a size twelve figure I said “Excuse me girl, is there a bakery”? This guy turned around and told me there was not. We left the shop hurriedly and went back to the van. As we were parked up near a public toilet I did the usual housekeeping tasks while M made coffee and cooked the last of the bacon and stuff in the adjoining car park. We’re nothing if not romantic.
On one of our stops we called in at Fantail falls. Not spectacular in any way, but there location tucked in off the road, made them a pleasant surprise. They carried a lot of water, and the river was running faster than most. We thought we might get to see the huge waterfall we saw from the helicopter, it was spectacular even from way up in the air. We never found it but there’s a picture of it on Flicker.
Time to head for Wanaka. Lake Wanaka is a place to take a deep breath and relax. Protected from the outside world by the grandeur of the mountains, you’re enclosed in a hidden paradise.
I stole that intro from their web site. These guys can put it so much better than me.
We were spellbound by the beauty of the countryside we were driving through. Lake Wanaka was our companion for many, many kilometers. We drove along side it for over an hour and the road then took us to the adjoining valley. I’m guessing this was to make travelling easier all those years ago. Mountains and lakes dominate the area, and this could have been an easier way to reach the settlement that was Wanaka.
We found Lake Wanaka Holiday Park. It was $16 each and very tired and in need of some TLC.. We parked up under a stand of pine trees in the shade. It was 32°. No matter what the blurb says, we found it dull and uninteresting. The town of Wanaka itself was a different story altogether. It is spotless with no litter and no graffiti. This part of the world has a very small crime rate. In all our travels in NZ we saw three cops, and two of them were at the airport!
Since this was the first large town we’d been in since I realized we needed a lead to charge the video camera, we set off to get one.
Before we got in to the town proper we past the top end of Lake Wanaka. We couldn't help ourselves from stopping and sitting under a tree to gaze down the valley with the lake at its feet and the mighty Southern Alps at it's head and shoulders. Snow capped mountains in the distance reflected off the azure water at our feet. The arid but also forested sides of the valley completed the picture on the surface of the water. One of those moments which just make you thank God to be alive.
As usual we found the local i site. The very nice lady in there told us where to look. We walked, and walked, and walked. The heat was fierce and the sun punished us for leaving the proper lead in Melbourne. Eventually we found the place we needed, and yes it was at the top of a very steep hill. The owner of the shop had none, but he rang round all of Wanaka searching for one for us to no avail.
We were starving, knackered and indeed thirsty. We saw a gourmet burger place and made for that. A couple of large delicious homemade burgers and beers later we were sorted. On the way back to the van, and we were less than two blocks away we found a Kodak shop and thought it was worth a try for a lead or battery. They didn’t stock what I needed but they did charge the battery overnight for $10. Worth every cent, now I could take more videos to bore you even more. Hallelujah baby.
We just ambled back to the site and had a two-hour siesta. It had been a very long day. We just lazed about for the rest of the evening. No Sand Flies here, so we’d have a lazy morning tomorrow. Eating in camps is always simple, nearly, so tonight we feasted on Hot Dogs and lovely NZ Brie. We stayed up really late, not going to bed until 11:30………
New Zealand - Day 3
Travelled 181 kms
Hokitika is Maori for Place of Return. Good job I don’t speak the language because although the town itself was lovely and the i site people really nice, and helpful, the campsite was not so good. The Manageress’s Granda was from Ballymena, although we shouldn’t hold that agin her! We had a wonder through the town and left it for the young thrill seekers.
We’d left our itinerary for the helicopter flight at home so we thought it best to get to Franz Josef earlier rather than later. For this part of the trip everything is revolving around the flight. It was part of M’s Christmas Pressie. The balloon flight had to be cancelled which was out of our control, I’d hate for anything to go wrong with this flight. We’d explained our problem to a girl at the i site and she got on the case. She traced the airline and there are a lot. She even got the flights rearranged to today. Fantastic.
We drove the typically twisty route to what is just like a mountain resort in Europe. Some of the views especially the earlier ones of Mount Cook and its slightly smaller neighbour Mount Tasman were inspiring. I don’t know why, but I thought I’d put that word in there as you’ll all be sick of the nicey nicey words that I need to describe this land.
Even though we were climbing steadily, the temperature was not dropping it was another glorious day. The temperature would get up to 33 today, the skies would remain deep deep blue, and we’d be up there above the snow.
Following the directions given in the I site we found the company no problem. As usual a young team of willing staff manned it. They changed our booking till this afternoon, but since they needed to have four passengers per flight we’d have to wait for two hours. Definitely not a problem in a place like Franz Josef.
Out we went into a glorious day and had a coffee each in the wee restaurant next door. I got the impression M would rather have had a nice big G & T! Since it is the Southern Alps I expected the air to be thin and a lot like the European Alps. This was not the case. It was very pleasant.
$780 for two is a lot of dosh to hand out for a forty-minute flight, but the thrill to be had makes it seem worthwhile.
We were taken out to the chopper, which was just across the road, over a car park and over a steep bank with steps cut into it.
My original plot was to video the whole flight, but this was not to be. I just did every other two minutes, until just as we were going down to land on the snowfield it fell asleep.The video camera, that is. I blamed it all on our Adam. He wasn’t here and he’d never know!
The flight was indeed thrilling, M was put in the front seat, myself behind the jockey, a member of staff beside me and a Herman beside him. Take off was smooth and we soon had climbed to about a thousand feet, watching the valley unfold into a living breathing patchwork quilt far below us. The jockey wanted to turn to the left but a low cloud had come down and at the last minute he decided to veer sharply right. The guy who was previously beside me was now below me and the Herman below him. Below that was an awful lot of emptiness until the ground. That at least will break our fall I thought.
After passing over the crystal blueness of the first glacier we headed up and over Mount Cook. This is the highest mountain in South Island, it’s as rugged and barren as ould Ena Sharples. We dipped and turned our way over more peaks and valleys until we went down to walk on the glacial snow that covered this part of the range.
There was a thin coating of brown stuff on parts of the snow. No, this was not in fact anything to do with previous passengers. It was dust that had blown in from Australia at the end of September. Seems it had come from the bush, covered the Eastern parts of Oz and ended up in NZ about fifteen hundred miles away. Or so.
That’s that then. The video went to sleep just as we were going in to land on the snow, but I thought there’d be enough to show how good it was. I really wanted the grandkids to share our adventure.
There were four other choppers on the snow. A very lucrative business if you’ve a couple of mill to get you going. We took off after the last of the other choppers and chased him down the valley.
The four of us got off the chopper agreeing that there were no superlatives that would describe the trip. I asked the Pilot if he enjoyed what he did and did he agree he should get a wage out of it. He laughed the laugh of a really contented man and said “Well somebody’s gotta do it”
We were told at the i centre about a place we could wild camp. Once I got this out of my system we could and would camp anywhere. On any commercial site M would choose. The place we thought was the location turned out to be a bloody mini hydro electric power station, there are loads of these on the faster flowing rivers.
We left this place promptly and made our way to Okarito. A very lovely old village hugging the coast on a flat and level peninsula. It lies on five mile beach, must be a younger relation of ninety mile beach elsewhere. We found a site organised by the local community. You parked up got organised and then took an envelope from a dispensary, filled it with $20 and that was your payment for the night. For this you got clean and adequate facilities, a communal hut with no glazing, big comfy sofas, and a view to die for. Between the site and the sea I noticed all these tyres painted white lying on the long grass and thought it must be a runway or something similar. After walking for another while we came across a sign, which read “Beware Runway. Don’t camp on the grass it could be Dangerous.” A cartoon plane and a cartoon campervan highlighted this
It was not strictly wild camping so we went on our way to another place.
This took us to a huge lake, Mapourika. Very picturesque but run by the council, and extremely basic. This was what we wanted, they even had one of the deep cut toilets! We chose to use our own as this one was getting closer to its best before date.
There were about eight other vans and four tents, sitting on either a tarmac roadway or on a neatly mown grassy area. Where we parked was beside the grass, and about forty feet away, the huge lake. We had rib eyes and spinach and some Vienna rye bread and butter cooked in the van and ate inside as well. There was no BBQ at this site but a young English couple had gathered up some wood and lit a fire, on which they cheerfully cooked their evening meal.
The sun went down about 8:45 and by nine we noticed some flies in the van. This wasn’t a problem because the stars seemed closer and brighter in this remote place. We just sat in our wee chairs and gazed upward. Lost to the world in our own thoughts.
I’d left the door open whilst out happy snapping and several thousand Sand Flies had decided to squat in our place. Armed with rolled up paper and mossie spray we embarked on a killing mission. It’s of little consequence now, but since this night we’ve discovered the West Coast of New Zealand is home to the most horrible flying insect in the world. By sheer numbers alone they outrank the mosquito. That said, they are so stupid when they land on you it’s the easiest thing in the world to squash them. All that’s left is a black and red stain.
We thought we’d got rid of them and went to bed after a couple of decent Gins.
After falling into a sound sleep I was wakened by the buzz of a flying insect, I tried to fend off the annoyance but the wee sh1ts persisted. By this time, about 3:30I was wide-awake and covered in bites. Patience is a virtue but by four thirty I was so unvirtuos. M woke up scratching herself and together we resembled two mangy ould dogs trying to dislodge their fleas.
We made coffee and went on our way at six. It would have been a lot earlier but M wasn’t happy about nighttime driving. Eh? Who was driving?
Hokitika is Maori for Place of Return. Good job I don’t speak the language because although the town itself was lovely and the i site people really nice, and helpful, the campsite was not so good. The Manageress’s Granda was from Ballymena, although we shouldn’t hold that agin her! We had a wonder through the town and left it for the young thrill seekers.
We’d left our itinerary for the helicopter flight at home so we thought it best to get to Franz Josef earlier rather than later. For this part of the trip everything is revolving around the flight. It was part of M’s Christmas Pressie. The balloon flight had to be cancelled which was out of our control, I’d hate for anything to go wrong with this flight. We’d explained our problem to a girl at the i site and she got on the case. She traced the airline and there are a lot. She even got the flights rearranged to today. Fantastic.
We drove the typically twisty route to what is just like a mountain resort in Europe. Some of the views especially the earlier ones of Mount Cook and its slightly smaller neighbour Mount Tasman were inspiring. I don’t know why, but I thought I’d put that word in there as you’ll all be sick of the nicey nicey words that I need to describe this land.
Even though we were climbing steadily, the temperature was not dropping it was another glorious day. The temperature would get up to 33 today, the skies would remain deep deep blue, and we’d be up there above the snow.
Following the directions given in the I site we found the company no problem. As usual a young team of willing staff manned it. They changed our booking till this afternoon, but since they needed to have four passengers per flight we’d have to wait for two hours. Definitely not a problem in a place like Franz Josef.
Out we went into a glorious day and had a coffee each in the wee restaurant next door. I got the impression M would rather have had a nice big G & T! Since it is the Southern Alps I expected the air to be thin and a lot like the European Alps. This was not the case. It was very pleasant.
$780 for two is a lot of dosh to hand out for a forty-minute flight, but the thrill to be had makes it seem worthwhile.
We were taken out to the chopper, which was just across the road, over a car park and over a steep bank with steps cut into it.
My original plot was to video the whole flight, but this was not to be. I just did every other two minutes, until just as we were going down to land on the snowfield it fell asleep.The video camera, that is. I blamed it all on our Adam. He wasn’t here and he’d never know!
The flight was indeed thrilling, M was put in the front seat, myself behind the jockey, a member of staff beside me and a Herman beside him. Take off was smooth and we soon had climbed to about a thousand feet, watching the valley unfold into a living breathing patchwork quilt far below us. The jockey wanted to turn to the left but a low cloud had come down and at the last minute he decided to veer sharply right. The guy who was previously beside me was now below me and the Herman below him. Below that was an awful lot of emptiness until the ground. That at least will break our fall I thought.
After passing over the crystal blueness of the first glacier we headed up and over Mount Cook. This is the highest mountain in South Island, it’s as rugged and barren as ould Ena Sharples. We dipped and turned our way over more peaks and valleys until we went down to walk on the glacial snow that covered this part of the range.
There was a thin coating of brown stuff on parts of the snow. No, this was not in fact anything to do with previous passengers. It was dust that had blown in from Australia at the end of September. Seems it had come from the bush, covered the Eastern parts of Oz and ended up in NZ about fifteen hundred miles away. Or so.
That’s that then. The video went to sleep just as we were going in to land on the snow, but I thought there’d be enough to show how good it was. I really wanted the grandkids to share our adventure.
There were four other choppers on the snow. A very lucrative business if you’ve a couple of mill to get you going. We took off after the last of the other choppers and chased him down the valley.
The four of us got off the chopper agreeing that there were no superlatives that would describe the trip. I asked the Pilot if he enjoyed what he did and did he agree he should get a wage out of it. He laughed the laugh of a really contented man and said “Well somebody’s gotta do it”
We were told at the i centre about a place we could wild camp. Once I got this out of my system we could and would camp anywhere. On any commercial site M would choose. The place we thought was the location turned out to be a bloody mini hydro electric power station, there are loads of these on the faster flowing rivers.
We left this place promptly and made our way to Okarito. A very lovely old village hugging the coast on a flat and level peninsula. It lies on five mile beach, must be a younger relation of ninety mile beach elsewhere. We found a site organised by the local community. You parked up got organised and then took an envelope from a dispensary, filled it with $20 and that was your payment for the night. For this you got clean and adequate facilities, a communal hut with no glazing, big comfy sofas, and a view to die for. Between the site and the sea I noticed all these tyres painted white lying on the long grass and thought it must be a runway or something similar. After walking for another while we came across a sign, which read “Beware Runway. Don’t camp on the grass it could be Dangerous.” A cartoon plane and a cartoon campervan highlighted this
It was not strictly wild camping so we went on our way to another place.
This took us to a huge lake, Mapourika. Very picturesque but run by the council, and extremely basic. This was what we wanted, they even had one of the deep cut toilets! We chose to use our own as this one was getting closer to its best before date.
There were about eight other vans and four tents, sitting on either a tarmac roadway or on a neatly mown grassy area. Where we parked was beside the grass, and about forty feet away, the huge lake. We had rib eyes and spinach and some Vienna rye bread and butter cooked in the van and ate inside as well. There was no BBQ at this site but a young English couple had gathered up some wood and lit a fire, on which they cheerfully cooked their evening meal.
The sun went down about 8:45 and by nine we noticed some flies in the van. This wasn’t a problem because the stars seemed closer and brighter in this remote place. We just sat in our wee chairs and gazed upward. Lost to the world in our own thoughts.
I’d left the door open whilst out happy snapping and several thousand Sand Flies had decided to squat in our place. Armed with rolled up paper and mossie spray we embarked on a killing mission. It’s of little consequence now, but since this night we’ve discovered the West Coast of New Zealand is home to the most horrible flying insect in the world. By sheer numbers alone they outrank the mosquito. That said, they are so stupid when they land on you it’s the easiest thing in the world to squash them. All that’s left is a black and red stain.
We thought we’d got rid of them and went to bed after a couple of decent Gins.
After falling into a sound sleep I was wakened by the buzz of a flying insect, I tried to fend off the annoyance but the wee sh1ts persisted. By this time, about 3:30I was wide-awake and covered in bites. Patience is a virtue but by four thirty I was so unvirtuos. M woke up scratching herself and together we resembled two mangy ould dogs trying to dislodge their fleas.
We made coffee and went on our way at six. It would have been a lot earlier but M wasn’t happy about nighttime driving. Eh? Who was driving?
New Zealand - Day 2
Travelled 398 kms
We slept really well considering the mattress and awoke about nine. We missed the sunrise, not because of our inability to get out of bed, No; the mountains were shrouded in a heavy blanket of cloud. After showering in the spotlessly clean shower building and coffee we had a walk around the site.
It was mainly for the chalet trade, but there is about a dozen powered pitches and the same amount for tents. There is a small area for non-powered pitches.
We had to go the local i site. These are dotted throughout NZ and are an invaluable source of information, both local, and national. This is the place where travellers should seek out every time they arrive in a new city or indeed rural area.
I had read about the thermal springs here and decided to find out more. This it turns out to be an excellent place to start the trip. There are twelve thermal pools, where the temperatures range from 33 - 42° Celsius. There’s a swimming pool restaurant and a complete personal pampering and relaxation regime. A very good restaurant and massage area completes the deal. You can opt for any or all of the therapies we just went for the bog standard but relaxing thermal pool experience.
This cost $14 or about £6 for an all day ticket. We only managed two hours because it was a very hot morning rising to 32° later in the day. It really was a nice time and we came out spotless with a slight aroma of Sulphur clinging to our nostrils. www.hamnersprings.co.nz
The coal-mining town of Westport was to be our next stop. It is on the west coast and was reached by crossing the Spenser Mountains.
All along the roads but not as frequent as in Oz, are picnic areas and rest areas for drivers. We pulled in at one to make some lunch. This is were campervans are invaluable. You can save a small fortune preparing your own food, although this is not what a holiday is about. We were parked up beside a river, and in the tail end of nowhere. Three other vans had had the same idea. Lunch of filled rolls and coffee was really dead on. Another thing we learnt, and I’ll mention all the handy hints as we go along, is you don’t use your facilities if there are other similar ones beside you. This even or maybe especially means toilet facilities. Way out where there’s no easily accessible mains water, kiwis dig a very deep hole in the ground and put a single toilet cubicle over it. This works. Doesn’t sound palatable but you don’t know what goes on deep below your own bog. These deep and wide chasms are a Technicolor reality of all our lives. Please don’t put your rubbish in though.
Ever onwards. Time is marching on, both right now while I write this and when the events were rolling out in front of us.
It was really warm, the aircon was just about keeping us cool and the miles were being eaten up at a steady rate.
We were passing through a small town called Reefton. It looked very friendly so we stopped for a poke. Two lovely ice creams later we were walking along the main street being greeted warmly by one and all. I’m reporting on the ice cream because the only pub in the town was closed for the afternoon period.
This might sound a bit olden times and not in keeping with the fact that this is the very first town in NZ to have electricity. It was also in this town that we saw the two biggest cockroaches we both have ever seen.
Onwards not paying a lot of attention to anything other that the wonderful scenery when we saw a sign for Pancake Rocks and Blowhole.
The funny side of this is it could be a place to get soft drugs and eat pastry products if you got the munchies!
The reality is, in Jane Dunn’s book Motorhome Magic described how they came across this spectacle on their trip. The sea and elements have eroded the rocks and they have cracked leaving them looking like giant stacks of grey crepes piled high on top of each other.
The sea has created a tunnel or cave, which created a blowhole about fifty metres inland. What happens is, a huge wave rolling in from the Pacific crashes up into the cave and some of it gets blown up through a big hole in the ground maybe about b6six metres wide. It makes a deep guttural boom underground and this is blown up through along with the water. We had a very pleasant time here, in this stunning attraction even as the sun roasted any exposed flesh.
Back behind the wheel and our journey was taking us past some beautiful and deserted beaches. Had to stop and stroll, you know our wee strolls that might last over an hour! Took some pictures and ooh and aahed at the scenery.
The trouble with NZ is it’s so hard to pass some of the gorgeous things you see along your way. If we could only learn to do this, our trip might last a lot less time. But, what are we here for anyway? If it takes too long we can make up time somewhere else. Either that or come back again. It’s only down the road!
Here we topped up the fuel tank with forty-seven bucks worth of diesel. Kiwis don’t normally use the word bucks, and fair play to them. After all it’s something else crawled out of the US!
I really wanted to wild camp, but being inexperienced didn’t know where to look. We passed a spot with about five vans on it just near the road. Unfortunately this was one of the narrow roads with no turning space for miles so decided just to carry on. There would be another chance on up the road a bit, we thought in our sadly misplaced wisdom. We gave up on finding somewhere because the tired irritability was creeping in to both of us. Time for plan B.
We asked Tom-tom to find us a site and this he did. It was about twelve clicks away in the town of Hokitika. This was a site baring the same name and it was tired. February is when the schools are all back for the start of the new year, so the holiday parks would have been full to overflowing for the busiest time of their year.
This place was a full of youngsters with surfboards on the top of their vans and adventure and thrill seeking in their heads.
A disaster was looming. I’d noticed the battery on my video was low, and I’d brought the wrong charger. There just had to be enough for the flight tomorrow, in the meantime I tried to find a place to get a new lead, but in a small town like this………..
Parked up for the night I cooked the evening meal, but can’t remember what it was. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a fry up though. No flippin Soda Bread nor potato bread either. A couple of beers and some wine later fell into bed.
We’d travelled two kilometres short of four hundred and it was time to sleep it off.
We slept really well considering the mattress and awoke about nine. We missed the sunrise, not because of our inability to get out of bed, No; the mountains were shrouded in a heavy blanket of cloud. After showering in the spotlessly clean shower building and coffee we had a walk around the site.
It was mainly for the chalet trade, but there is about a dozen powered pitches and the same amount for tents. There is a small area for non-powered pitches.
We had to go the local i site. These are dotted throughout NZ and are an invaluable source of information, both local, and national. This is the place where travellers should seek out every time they arrive in a new city or indeed rural area.
I had read about the thermal springs here and decided to find out more. This it turns out to be an excellent place to start the trip. There are twelve thermal pools, where the temperatures range from 33 - 42° Celsius. There’s a swimming pool restaurant and a complete personal pampering and relaxation regime. A very good restaurant and massage area completes the deal. You can opt for any or all of the therapies we just went for the bog standard but relaxing thermal pool experience.
This cost $14 or about £6 for an all day ticket. We only managed two hours because it was a very hot morning rising to 32° later in the day. It really was a nice time and we came out spotless with a slight aroma of Sulphur clinging to our nostrils. www.hamnersprings.co.nz
The coal-mining town of Westport was to be our next stop. It is on the west coast and was reached by crossing the Spenser Mountains.
All along the roads but not as frequent as in Oz, are picnic areas and rest areas for drivers. We pulled in at one to make some lunch. This is were campervans are invaluable. You can save a small fortune preparing your own food, although this is not what a holiday is about. We were parked up beside a river, and in the tail end of nowhere. Three other vans had had the same idea. Lunch of filled rolls and coffee was really dead on. Another thing we learnt, and I’ll mention all the handy hints as we go along, is you don’t use your facilities if there are other similar ones beside you. This even or maybe especially means toilet facilities. Way out where there’s no easily accessible mains water, kiwis dig a very deep hole in the ground and put a single toilet cubicle over it. This works. Doesn’t sound palatable but you don’t know what goes on deep below your own bog. These deep and wide chasms are a Technicolor reality of all our lives. Please don’t put your rubbish in though.
Ever onwards. Time is marching on, both right now while I write this and when the events were rolling out in front of us.
It was really warm, the aircon was just about keeping us cool and the miles were being eaten up at a steady rate.
We were passing through a small town called Reefton. It looked very friendly so we stopped for a poke. Two lovely ice creams later we were walking along the main street being greeted warmly by one and all. I’m reporting on the ice cream because the only pub in the town was closed for the afternoon period.
This might sound a bit olden times and not in keeping with the fact that this is the very first town in NZ to have electricity. It was also in this town that we saw the two biggest cockroaches we both have ever seen.
Onwards not paying a lot of attention to anything other that the wonderful scenery when we saw a sign for Pancake Rocks and Blowhole.
The funny side of this is it could be a place to get soft drugs and eat pastry products if you got the munchies!
The reality is, in Jane Dunn’s book Motorhome Magic described how they came across this spectacle on their trip. The sea and elements have eroded the rocks and they have cracked leaving them looking like giant stacks of grey crepes piled high on top of each other.
The sea has created a tunnel or cave, which created a blowhole about fifty metres inland. What happens is, a huge wave rolling in from the Pacific crashes up into the cave and some of it gets blown up through a big hole in the ground maybe about b6six metres wide. It makes a deep guttural boom underground and this is blown up through along with the water. We had a very pleasant time here, in this stunning attraction even as the sun roasted any exposed flesh.
Back behind the wheel and our journey was taking us past some beautiful and deserted beaches. Had to stop and stroll, you know our wee strolls that might last over an hour! Took some pictures and ooh and aahed at the scenery.
The trouble with NZ is it’s so hard to pass some of the gorgeous things you see along your way. If we could only learn to do this, our trip might last a lot less time. But, what are we here for anyway? If it takes too long we can make up time somewhere else. Either that or come back again. It’s only down the road!
Here we topped up the fuel tank with forty-seven bucks worth of diesel. Kiwis don’t normally use the word bucks, and fair play to them. After all it’s something else crawled out of the US!
I really wanted to wild camp, but being inexperienced didn’t know where to look. We passed a spot with about five vans on it just near the road. Unfortunately this was one of the narrow roads with no turning space for miles so decided just to carry on. There would be another chance on up the road a bit, we thought in our sadly misplaced wisdom. We gave up on finding somewhere because the tired irritability was creeping in to both of us. Time for plan B.
We asked Tom-tom to find us a site and this he did. It was about twelve clicks away in the town of Hokitika. This was a site baring the same name and it was tired. February is when the schools are all back for the start of the new year, so the holiday parks would have been full to overflowing for the busiest time of their year.
This place was a full of youngsters with surfboards on the top of their vans and adventure and thrill seeking in their heads.
A disaster was looming. I’d noticed the battery on my video was low, and I’d brought the wrong charger. There just had to be enough for the flight tomorrow, in the meantime I tried to find a place to get a new lead, but in a small town like this………..
Parked up for the night I cooked the evening meal, but can’t remember what it was. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a fry up though. No flippin Soda Bread nor potato bread either. A couple of beers and some wine later fell into bed.
We’d travelled two kilometres short of four hundred and it was time to sleep it off.
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