Nelson
The InterIslander ferry made its steady way up the remarkably beautiful Queen Charlotte Sound, steep forested hills on either side of the winding waterway dotted here and there with houses accessible only from the sea. We had been fortunate enough to bag comfortable seats at the bow lounge and made sure we hung on to them for the whole voyage, bringing dinner back from the restaurant to eat on our laps. Leaving the ship at Picton we drove along the scenic Queen Charlotte Drive as the light gradually faded on the way to our farm cabin at Linkwater.
In the morning we drove the short distance to Anakiwa, where cousin Dave and Bev lived for a while, and then tackled the local long distance walk, called, believe it or not, the Queen Charlotte Track. When I say tackled, we didn’t quite walk the full 45 miles, just the first 30 minutes to the pretty Davies Bay, but we got an idea of the thing and very fine it was too.
The Kenepuru road to the sound of the same name looked like it would be scenic on the map but the 25 minute drive each way revealed nothing beyond the trees as it wound in never ending tight bends to the settlement at Te Mahia. We ate our sandwiches here looking out at the little bay and I even ventured onto the jetty at risk of being blown into the water by the strong winds or at least dampened by the drizzle. The road went on to Kenepuru Head and then unsealed to Nopera, Manaroa and Titiranga, but that would have taken hours and we had seen enough so headed back to the main road and on to Cullen Point Lookout overlooking Havelock.
A final excursion took us to Okiwi Bay. By this time the winds were savage and cloud was blowing across the road as we carefully negotiated the high hilly bends. We were rewarded with views across Croisilles Harbour to the open sea. This road too went further, much further, all the way to French Pass and Bulwer many miles further on unsealed roads. We went back the way we had come and were relieved to come down again into the relative calm of the landward side of the hills.
Then it was on again to cousin Julie’s, who I had discovered just the previous night did not live in the town of Nelson as I had thought but 40 minutes further on at Ruby Bay. Her house is hidden away at the end of a winding track at the top of a hill that affords wonderful views of both the sea and distant mountains. We enjoyed a vegetarian dinner and lots of catching up on family news before retiring for a restful night – and then a restful following day when our major activity was drinking a coffee in a café before a stroll on the beach. It was great to have a day when we weren’t travelling or sightseeing or planning but just relaxing; we didn’t even have to decide where to eat. On the way back we popped in to see Sue and Wylie; Sue is the granddaughter of my Nanny Warren’s brother Charlie, who emigrated to New Zealand back in the 1920’s. They had a farm on the Canterbury Plains north of Christchurch and retired here 3 years ago to a house with lovely gardens and magnificent views across the bay.
Back in the 1970s I had walked the Abel Tasman track through the national park of the same name with sister Gill and had memories of the golden sand, blue sea and green bush that I wanted to show Corriene. We set off in the morning with Julie, stopping to appreciate the beautiful beach at Kaiteriteri and the unusual Split Apple Rock before driving on to Marahau and the start of the track. The experience did not disappoint; the scenery was every bit as beautiful as I remembered. The only difference was the number of visitors. 45 years ago there were far fewer foreign tourists in the country and almost all the locals took their holidays at the same time over Christmas and new year; consequently the track was very quiet for most of the year with deserted beaches and plenty of room in the huts (the track takes 3-4 days to walk). Now it was busy, not crowded as such but you frequently passed other walkers and there was a sign at the start saying that huts had to be booked in advance all year round. It was particularly busy because it was Waitangi Day, a public holiday. Despite that it was wonderful. Julie walked as far as Tinline Bay with us before turning back; Corriene and I continued to Apple Tree Bay, where we had lunch, and then on towards Anchorage Bay before deciding we should head back while we still had energy left. By the time we got back to the car we had covered a good 10 miles, not a great distance but the furthest either of us had walked for quite some time, so were glad to get back and relax again at Julie’s.
Hokitika
It was a good job that we talked to Julie about visiting her brother Dave and his wife Bev in Punakaiki on the West Coast; she pointed out that they did not actually live there but an hour further south at Hokitika! Thus prepared we set off to our first stop of the day at Lake Rotoiti in amongst the mountains at the northern end of the Southern Alps that run almost the full length of the South Island. Here we had a warm greeting from the local sand flies, a New Zealand speciality somewhere in size between a midge and a mosquito that likes nothing better than a good slurp of human blood, leaving the lucky donor with a very itchy bite. It was here, when I came to plot the course to Punakaiki, that I realised I had not downloaded the South Island Google map; not having data on my phone here, I was forced to navigate myself from a paper map! I memorised the route and set off confidently, only realising when I reached Reefton instead of Westport that I had taken a wrong turn, necessitating an extra hour’s driving.
The additional effort was worth it. Punakaiki is famous for its pancake rocks, great stacks of thinly layered limestone set in rugged cliffs and arches constantly battered by crashing waves. An additional attraction we didn’t see much of because conditions weren’t right displays at high tide in rough conditions when the sea forces its way into caves and explodes high into the air through blow holes.
We dragged ourselves away from the spectacle, retraced our steps to Greymouth and headed on to our destination in Hokitika where a warm welcome and a proper NZ BBQ awaited us.
Dave and Bev currently live in a house they bought 3 years ago after moving from Marlborough. The garage has been converted into a very nice apartment that is rented out on AirBnB when the likes of us are not imposing ourselves. They are also building a house nearby just off the beach and will move in there when it is complete. Not far away is the town centre, which features a jade showroom and a glass blowing workshop with some of the most elegant and beautiful glassware I have ever seen.
Our hosts took us a on a tour of the local sights, taking in Lake Mahinapua before lunch at the Tree Top Café (actually at ground level), and then on to Lake Kaniere with its beautiful Kahikatea Bush Walk before visiting Dorothy Falls and Hokitika Gorge – a full day of impressive West Coast attractions. On the way Dave told us about his seasonal work. He works for 3 or 4 weeks each year in Marlborough driving a grape harvester 12 hours on and 12 hours off, which sounds quite tough, but his other job is the really skilled one – artificially inseminating 10,000 cows. I won’t go into the sordid details of the process here; suffice it to say it surprised me – and sounds rather messy. Dave assures me he has no part in extracting the source material from the bulls; he just sticks it to the girls.
The next day we ventured further afield up to Arthur’s Pass in the mountains. The last time I was there in the ‘70’s the wipers on my old car failed in a snow storm and I rigged up a loop of string to move them; it was that or disappear over a cliff. This time the notoriously wet west coast weather was kind to us, the sun shining down as we arrived at the Otira Stagecoach Hotel, once a pub and now a remarkable collection of oddities.
A little further on near Arthur’s Pass village we climbed the 442 steps to the Devil’s Punchbowl, arriving just too late to see the waterfall being abseiled for the first time, although the ropes were still in place. Back at the top of the pass we enjoyed the Temple Basin nature walk. There is a ski field on the opposite side of the valley, but it looks as though you have to walk up to it; not my idea of a good day skiing.
On the way back we stopped to explore the Stafford Terrace Tunnel walk, a path used by gold miners back in the 19th century when Hokitika was a boom town. We passed through narrow tunnels and through a landscape that at a casual glance could be mistaken for virgin bush, so completely has the vegetation reclaimed the ditches and piles of boulders left by mine workers. We returned to another of Bev’s delicious meals and then planned our onward journey, Dave giving tips on places to see on the way.
Fox and Wanaka
We continued south the next morning, stopping to look at Lake Ianthe. Here the water level was clearly higher than usual, the jetty and almost a picnic table being under water. Further on there were ongoing overnight road closures to enable extensive repairs following major flood damage earlier in the year. Rain is a big feature of the West Coast, which was the first part of New Zealand we had seen where the grass hillsides were not dried brown by the summer sun, but further south Fiordland is much wetter still, receiving some of the highest rainfall on the planet with an average of 7-9 m.
We took a walk to see the Franz Josef Glacier. Once upon a time you could see it much nearer the road, but in the last 150 years it has retreated miles up its valley. How close you can get depends on the conditions because after the initial wooded track the way continues up a river bed. This section was closed to us – with good reason since the river was occupying its bed, and not sleeping either. My only previous visit to the area had been to see sister Gill, who back in the seventies was working at the Franz Josef Hotel, practically the only place to stay; now there are lots of hotels and motels serving the greatly increased number of tourists.
Pressing on we arrived at our overnight stop at Fox Glacier, not that we saw the glacier (that would have required a long walk) but we did stroll around Lake Matheson and admire the reflections of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman, even if the water did ripple a little annoyingly.
The following day dawned with dense low clouds that continued down the coast, suggesting a foggy drive inland over the Haast Pass, but within minutes of entering the Haast River valley we had clear blue skies over the mountains rising above the half mile wide river bed that is fully covered during floods. We walked through the trees and out across that bed to see the Roaring Billy Falls cascading beautifully down the forested slopes. Further on we took another walk to see the Blue Pools, accessed by swing bridges and enjoyed by swimmers and sunbathers. Here the temperature was 30 C; 90 miles away on the cloudy coast at midday it had been 16 C.
Our home for the next 2 nights was Wanaka, a pleasant little town by the lake of the same name, busy with holiday makers. Our day here was spent on a walk up to Roy’s Peak, a small matter of 1250 vertical metres on a well graded track along with hundreds of other hikers, almost all a lot younger than us. The views were great all the way up and from the top were magnificent; yet another beautiful day with wonderful scenery in this country that has far more than its fair share of beautiful landscapes.
Te Anau
Leaving Wanaka, we drove past the ski resort of Cardrona and over the Crown Range, winding higher and higher in an ever narrowing valley until we reached the pass at 1121 m, the highest main road in New Zealand. We stopped to admire the view and I was commenting to Corriene that a few more trees would look good when we saw these signs:
The country’s native flora and fauna does have big problems with imported plants and animals. The Maoris started the process by bringing pigs and deforestation into some areas, but the Europeans took it to another level, felling forests wholesale and introducing deer, possums, rats, rabbits, mice and stoats. In a place where native birds without predators lost the power of flight and nested on the ground, this was a bad thing: bird eggs and young chicks make a tasty meal and these new species have had a field day – or century or two – at the expense of the now endangered kiwis and other flightless avians. Or take deer, for example, introduced for sport in the early 1900’s, by 1965 it was estimated there were 12 million of them busily grazing the native bush to oblivion. Today extensive trapping, poisoning and culling operations seek to control the numbers of all these invaders so that the indigenous wildlife and plants can recover.
Driving down into the Wakatipu Basin we stopped for coffee at Arrowtown, where the main street of old buildings has become a tourist magnet and the car parks are all full. It was pleasant enough and, in a country where any building more than 100 years old is special, rather unusual. However, for us visitors from the ‘old country’, used to centuries old villages, it seemed a little over-rated and we moved on to nearby Queenstown. Here the streets were packed and we found nowhere to park until we were a couple of miles beyond the town; this turned out to be a good thing because we had a vantage point above the lake looking back at the town and across to the Remarkables, the mountains for which the town is famous; an excellent spot to eat our sandwiches.
Our onwards route followed the long southern arm of Lake Wakatipu and on southwards before turning west for Te Anau at the southern end of the lake of the same name. On the way the temperature dropped from 25 C to 14 C under dense clouds before going back up to 21 C in clearer skies. At dinner in the hotel that evening we roasted as the sun blazed through the picture windows; then, going for a walk, we shivered as the sun went in and chill winds tried to blow us away. You need to be ready for anything in this part of the world.
We had come here to see Fiordland. In particular I wanted to see Milford Sound and the iconic Mitre Peak, which I had not seen on my previous visit. Unfortunately, 10 days previously the sound had had 1 m of rainfall in 36 hours and the road was washed out, stranding visitors. It was still closed, so we did the next best (if considerably more expensive) thing: a trip to Doubtful Sound. This involved leaving the hotel at 6.30 am and a 6.55 check in for a boat across Lake Manapouri, followed by a bus across Wilmot Pass to reach Deep Cove and our 2.5 hour cruise on the sound. It was pretty spectacular all the way, even though the mountains around Manapouri were mostly shrouded by clouds on the way out.
At the end of the West Arm of Lake Manapouri is a hydro-electric power station – not that you see much of it because it is sited 176 m below lake level. It generates enough power for most of the South Island, about 4,800 GW-h annually, but 85% of it goes to an aluminium smelter at Tiwai Point. The dirt road across the pass was built to bring in heavy loads during the 8 year 1960s construction of the underground power station, the tunnel road leading to it and the 10 km tail race tunnel taking the outflowing water to the sound, a huge engineering project during which 16 men lost their lives.
At the top of the pass the bus stopped to let us photograph the sound stretching away below us. Unfortunately the sun had not yet appeared to sparkle on the mountains; later, as we cruised the tranquil waters, it did and the result was stunningly beautiful. After turning around short of the open sea, we stopped just feet away from the precipitous walls to admire a waterfall and then explored Crooked Arm, where our captain turned off the engines and we sat in total silence for a few minutes amid the awe-inspiring scenery. We returned to Deep Cove and the bus over the pass before the final cruise back across Lake Manapouri, this time with the mountains on magnificent show.
Twizel
The next morning we packed our bags again and retraced our route to Queenstown before heading through the Shotover Gorge into the broad Otago plains, bounded on all sides by distant high hills, on to our destination at Twizel. Here we had a 3 bedroom house to ourselves; it was obviously more than we needed, and more expensive than we usually paid, but it was the lowest cost decent option with not much available. We were fortunate to get it because they were fully booked for months, but had a cancellation from Chinese visitors on account of the Corona virus outbreak.
The plan had been to visit Mt Cook the next day and take a walk in the Hooker Valley before driving to Christchurch, but the forecast was for rain in the mountains the following morning, turning heavy with strong winds, so it seemed better to squeeze in the local sightseeing while the weather was fine. It was a good decision. While not enjoying sunshine, and without time for the hike, at least the clouds were high enough to reveal the country’s highest peak, at over 3,700 m permanently decked with snow.
Christchurch
There would have been good views of Mt Cook and the Southern Alps on our drive north from Twizel but the high mountains were hidden by low cloud. We contented ourselves with the Otago plains and gorges and then, since Dave had advised us that the road from Ashburton was busy and dull, we took the ‘Inland Scenic Route’ through Mt Somers and Darfield, passing Mt Hutt, where I first learned to ski, and stopping for a look at the Rakaia Gorge.
Although I lived in Christchurch for 3 years, that was 43 years ago and I knew there would be a lot of changes, even without the effects of the earthquakes in 2010 and 2011 that killed 185 people and brought widespread destruction. I wondered how much would still be familiar and soon found the answer: not a lot. I went looking for the houses where I lived in the St Albans area and couldn’t find any of them; a great number of the older properties on good size sections have been replaced by more densely packed multiple units. Some areas of the city have been ‘redzoned’ after the ‘quake because liquefaction has made the ground too unstable to rebuild on. In the city centre whole blocks are vacant where buildings either fell down in the ‘quake or were pulled down afterwards because they were unsafe. Other blocks are full of new buildings. I recognised nothing except the cathedral – and that was half destroyed, awaiting reconstruction – until we reached the Botanic Gardens, where I had worked for a few months. Probably my favourite gardens anywhere, the trees are even more magnificent for another 43 years on them and the little nooks and dells are as enchanting as ever.
We took a look at the ‘Cardboard’ Cathedral, the transitional structure erected following the closure of the damaged original. It was more impressive than I imagined, but I was sorry to learn that the cardboard does not actually hold the thing up, it just creates some shade in what would otherwise be a hot glasshouse.
I had also lived in an old 2 story house (unusual in those days) 6 miles from the centre in Halswell. We went looking for that but, alas, the story was the same: where there had been empty space there were new developments and there was no sign of my old home. Another 8 miles on is Lincoln University, or Lincoln College as it was when I worked there and took my horticultural diploma. We had a look around the campus; there too were many changes, some buildings gone and many new ones built and the Horticultural Research Area where I used to work now an organic Biological Husbandry Unit, the strawberry fields where I injected pest-killing dieldrin long gone, but the packing shed, whose roof blew off in a storm when I was there, still looking familiar. Senior Lecturer Bob Crowder, who introduced me to the college after picking me up on a hitch-hiking trip, is long retired but had paid a visit only the day before.
We completed our day with a trip over the Port Hills, stopping to admire the views from the Sign of the Kiwi café west over Christchurch to the hazy Alps and south east over Governors Bay towards the Banks Peninsular, before driving into the port of Lyttleton where we found our cheapest meal yet: good fish and chips and a burger for $13.40. It made a change from our first night here when our (very good) Italian meal set us back over $100.
The Canterbury Plains are, as the name suggests, pretty flat, consisting of outwash from the alps. In contrast the Banks Peninsular is very hilly, the remains of 2 large volcanic craters at Lyttelton and Akaroa harbours. It was to the latter that we set off the next day, 1.5 hours driving on the direct route and longer on the very scenic summit road that branches off at the Hilltop Tavern; we stopped every few minutes to admire the views and take photos, alternately to the north and the south as the road wound around above the constantly serrated coastline. Out at sea was a low bank of cloud everywhere but above us the skies were clear and the New Zealand scenery delivered a final show for us that certainly did not disappoint. In fact, we liked it so much that we marked Akaroa down as one of the places where we would like to spend more time should we get the chance in the future.
After weeks of travel and sightseeing it was time to prepare to leave the country, Corriene to go home to England and me to head to Brazil, so we checked our rental car return and flight details, Corriene’s bus from Heathrow and my transport options to the hotel in Rio. I also had to decide whether to complete trips to everywhere on my list or save some for another time. It seemed about the right time to go home but I did not want to miss Iguazu Falls, so booked return flights to there from Rio and then a (bargain) flight back to the UK for 3 March, 5 weeks earlier than the original plan. Macchu Picchu, Mexico and Cuba will have to wait; perhaps Corriene and I can visit them together at some point.
Those deliberations and plans took most of the day but we found time for another wander around the city centre. It feels a curiously soulless place, as if it has not found itself again since the earthquake; the streets are quiet and there is no buzz of activity or any real character to the place.. The artwork installations around Cathedral Square and elsewhere are unattractive. We also visited the Art Gallery, an austere and cold feeling building that houses some good traditional paintings and some modern ‘major’ works that are, frankly, in my humble opinion, complete rubbish. Having spent 3 happy years of my youth in the city I retain a fondness for it and hope that it prospers in the future. I guess it takes years to redevelop a distinct and coherent character after the disaster that befell it and the amount of new building does the place credit; it just needs some magic spark to bring it to life.
Our last morning we spent in the Botanic Gardens, wandering through the relaxing grounds, drinking a coffee at the visitor centre and eating a roll on a bench overlooking the Avon. It was a little emotional to think we were parting, if only for 10 days, and also to be setting out for the last leg of my long travels, as well as leaving a country and city where I had lived, but the Avon flowed on and so does life; we just set a course and do our best to navigate the currents. Mine were taking me to South America, Corriene’s back home.
Rob's Roads 