Te Anau

Up bright and early we arrive at Te Anau by midday and check into a campsite the living room of which resembles more of a hunting lodge with big fireplace and comfy sofas. They agree to store our excess luggage while we do the walk along the Milford Track and even to store the campervan out back so all that remains is to orientate ourselves and collect our tickets.

Te Anau is a small town with a host of restaurants and souvenir shops most of which are quite upmarket as the town acts as the base from which many tourists visit Milford Sound, the beautiful fiords and mountains that will mark the end of our walk and an attraction for those less into the extreme sports for which Queenstown is focused. A stroll along the lake to the DOC visitors centre and we check in ready for the walk, the DOC ranger gives us a run down of all the equipment we should be taking – waterproofs, sturdy footwear, sleeping bags, plenty of food for 4 days and of course insect repellent. The place from which we’ll catch the launch at the end of the trail is called sandfly point for a reason and apparently the rest of the track isn’t much kinder.

I do my best to holdback from the temptation of the deli in town and after stuffing ourselves with pasta and packing our bags ready for the walk we retire early to bed.

Ever Southward

We’re on a tighter schedule now and can afford just one overnight stop before getting to Te Anau which will be the starting point for our walk on the Milford Track. Passing through Queenstown naturally en route we decide not to try to squeeze in the bungy jumps I’m keen to do, we’ll do them on the return route up North, but we decide to call in and check if we need to book ahead just in case. Karahau bridge is alongside the road into town so I get my first peak at the “home” of bungy as this is the home of the first commercial bungy site in the world. As we arrive a guy makes his leap and is unceremoniously dunked up to his waist in the river, ripping his t-shirt off in the process. Hmmmm… not sure I want my t-shirt whipping off in front of a crowd of spectators. We’re assured that we can book just a day in advance so don’t book anything, leaving us a bit more flexibility for after we’ve completed the walk.

A quick browse round town and a stock up on supplies for the walk and we head back off, trying to get a little further south to make the journey the next day shorter. We’re hoping to free camp along the lake somewhere but there isn’t anywhere you can leave the road so we opt to stay at a campsite in Kingston on the southern tip of the lake. The camp kitchen is a focal point for socialising and we get into some good conversation with a few kiwis holidaying themselves from elsewhere on the South Island. There is a notable North/South divide between people living in NZ and they seem delighted that we have opted to just see the South Island, telling us we haven’t missed much by not venturing up North. As would most probably be the case for us back home, they haven’t seen half of what we have already seen of their own island and are keen for reviews so they can even plan their next trips away. Funny how we never take the chance to explore what is on our own doorstep.

Warbirds and Wanaka

Taking our route now inland we pass by Lake Hawea, impressive not just by its clear turquoise waters, at 410m deep it is also the deepest lake in New Zealand. Held up momentarily by a huge herd of cattle moving fields along the road we arrive at Lake Wanaka late afternoon. Obviously a stop off point for all the tour buses the lake front is teeming with young backpackers sunning themselves in the heat of the day.

Rob buys a new rucksack, smaller than his normal one so he can use it on Milford track, (that makes three new bags for him, and one for me, now since we started our travels). We push off further down the lake to stop for tea but there isn’t anywhere to camp for the night so as night falls we move on again to a DOC camp ground on the edge of town, spying an albino peacock on the way. We’ve not the correct change for the unmanned site so have the pleasure of a knock on the van at 6am next morning from the park warden, great. I think I’m crafty getting a cold wash at the sink in the disabled loo (they don’t have showers at DOC sites and all other sinks are outside), but Rob manages to wing a hot shower from the guy who is camping in an big bus next to us and has loads of hot water left over after his own shower, damn.

As we’re awake we head over to the ‘dropzone’ at Lake Wanaka. I put dropzone in apostrophes as it is really a tandem club that operates out of the airport there. There is no sign of anyone though so we pop into the warbirds museum next door, which is full off old world war memorabilia and planes. They even have a stand for a squadron that was stationed briefly at our home dropzone, back in the UK, before WWII. Rob notices a couple of people gathered outside the tandem office so we loiter about until the staff appear and we’re in luck, they will try to get us on a lift with some of the tandems. The guys are all friendly enough but the operation is definitely a tandem factory not a sports club and although the views are pretty stunning after being spoilt at Fox we are happy enough just to do the one jump and get on our way.

Glaciers and Hospitality

Heading off early in the morning towards the glaciers the weather is still overcast and the cloud base low. We pass through Frans Josef and arrive in Fox Glacier which is buzzing with people all unable to access the glaciers and mountains due to the weather. We find the dropzone, happily surprised to see a familiar face working there. Mike, an Ozzy that we both first met skydiving over in Jersey, is working there as a tandem instructor. He introduces us to everyone, giving Rob the big sell as a top freeflier so Rod, the boss there warms to us immediately.

Next day we manage to get a jump in in the morning before it becomes too cloudy to jump. The views are spectacular even with some cloud, its quite alarming to see your altimeter reading 12000ft yet the ground is right below you as we get taken round the tops of Mount Cook and Mount Tasman. With the weather not improving we go back to Frans Josef for a look around. We check out the cost of doing Glacier walks, then one of the guys at the dropzone has said it is cheaper in Fox and when we return there we find that it’s about two-thirds the cost. Rob has walked on Frans Josef before so we stop briefly en route to walk to the base of Frans Josef then book to do fox the next day.

Settling at the campsite the sky begins to clear and Rob spots the jump plane taking off so we head back to the dropzone. I’ve a headache so opt not to jump and by the time Rob is in the air the clouds have cleared completely and he gets a terrific view, right from the mountain tops down past the glacier itself. I’m kicking myself a bit but Ron suggests we nip in in the morning before doing the glacier walk as jumping starts at 7:30am… eek.

We’re back at the DZ for 7:15am but there is only going to be room for one of us before the walk due to the back log of tandems from the bad weather days. Rob generously lets me take the slot and I’m blessed with the most glorious views. Rod also insists that I follow out the tandem so I swoop down and dock on Mike after a little hesitation leaving the plane. I’m beaming as I’ve been putting off following out a tandem for probably a year so it’s a great hurdle to get over. Rob has to meet me at the landing site as we’ve only 15mins before we have to register for the walk, he’s bought a packed lunch and we’re soon kitted up with walking boots and crampons for the walk.

The walking boots must be the most knackered boots I’ve ever encountered, my soles are actually screwed on over the original worn out ones and the sides have big gaping holes in them. Rob’s are no better, there isn’t an alternative though so they will have to do. Our guide for the day is a german guy Martin, a slim sinewy guy, passionate about mountaineering and with a good sense of humour. His knowledge of the glacier is good, his purpose to guide us up the glacier, creating steps with his pick axe as he goes. We soon learn that he is as passionate about using his pick axe as he is about mountaineering as barely a moment passes without him swinging it wildly about showering us all in shards of ice. I’m not sure what was the more dangerous, making sure you didn’t slip down the glacial ice or trying to avoid the pick axe and associated ice shower, I’m inclined to think the latter.

We make it up and down the glacier unscathed, if a little sunburnt as the weather has been crystal clear all day. We get back to the dropzone and both manage to get on another lift, albeit apart. I follow Rod out this time and dock on him, Rob takes him out for a freefly jump headdown and he is buzzing when they both land. We’re invited down the pub with the rest of the crowd, as well as Rod aka Sarge there is Chris (Silver Fox), Rod (monster), Trev ( a British lad adopted by Rod and getting enough jumps in to be able to go for his tandem rating) and Glenn who is quite quiet at first but by now has opened up a bit regaling us with tales of sharks he has caught, deer he has hunted and snakes in the loft… handy bloke to have around.

A quick shower and supper of noodles and we’re down the pub, thanks to Chris we get “locals prices” which are less than half what we paid when we first got there. We’re entertained by Karaoke including Trev’s little girl but thankfully we manage to escape without having to embarrass ourselves that much. The plane is off for a service early next morning so there won’t be any jumping but Rod says if we’re up at 6:30am we can get a free lob as it leaves.

Early next morning then we wake to a knock on the van from Rod and I leave Rob to go jump with him, justifying that they will have more fun doing a two way without me (although secretly after the beer last night I’m after a bit more sleep!). When I finally stir Rob is tucking into breakfast cooked by Rod and I get treated to the same too. Free jumps and free cooked breakfast, we feel sad having to leave as we’ve been made so welcome, but with promises to return the favour some day we bid our goodbyes again and are back on the road.

West Coast

Our arrival at the west coast is grey murky and damp but it doesn’t detract from the dramatic coastline, the sea seeming all the more powerful with the stormy weather. After having a car driving up our bums for a while Rob pulls over to let it pass only for it to be pulled over by a police car a few yards further down the road. Rob thinks this is hilarious and I’m inclined to agree that is serves him right.

Travelling down from Westport via Greymouth we settle for the night at *, earmarked in all the tourist guides as the place to make your own jade carving. They obviously have an artistic community as a trip to the beach reveals a driftwood sculpture competition/exhibition. Some of the pieces are quite ingenious and we marvel at just how far afield they must have gone to collect all the driftwood. However when we take a walk on the beach adjacent to the campsite we’re astounded at the shear quantity of driftwood all the way up the beach, I guess another sign of just how tempestuous the seas are around here.

Abel Tasman

Leaving the van in the car park of the water taxi, we hand over our rucksacks and climb onto the boat, to be driven via tractor down into the sea where we float free and set off up the coast of the Abel Tasman National park. The driver of the boat informs us of the history of the coastline and its discovery by the likes of Abel Tasman, even taking us to specific points of interest, including a seal colony happily lying on the rocks of one of the islands. Dropped at the top of the park at Totaranui, we collect our rucksacks, paddle to the shore, don our trainers and set off on our way. We’ve been given a relatively tight schedule by the guide at the booking office, as we’ve a couple of points on the trail that can only be passed at low tide. Passing through the sea still at Awaroa, we hike across beaches, through forest and up and down hills and pass the second low tide point by 2:30pm so allow ourselves a break for lunch. We’ve been hiking quite fast for 3.5hrs and we welcome the break, especially as we get to sit and chill on beach at Onetahuti bay, golden sands and bright blue sea as far as the eye can sea. Setting off stuffed with sardines, bread and biscuits the going seems tougher, my knees don’t like the downhill sections and my back is aching so much I’m starting to wonder if there is something seriously wrong with it.

We arrive at Bark Hut, our first night’s stay to much relief, leave our stuff marking two mattresses on one of the four bunks that each sleep seven people and head down to the beach for a quick dip and a lounge before dinner. Rehydrated food and some lovely dried fruit and nuts from one of the other walkers and we’re turning in for the night. Its noticeable just how long the days are here, at 10pm its still bright light, but we manage to get to sleep anyway. Halfway through the night and we’re disturbed by three girls in the same bunk as us. Rather naively the three have “packed light”, seemingly just packing cotton bag liners to sleep in and no more than t-shirts and shorts by way of clothing. They are freezing and discussing their predicament in what can only be described as stage whispers, this carries on for over an hour and even I’m tempted to offer them some extra clothes just to quieten them (in the morning I discover Rob was lying there thinking the same thoughts). Other than that we have a good nights sleep and waken early ready for the next days walk.

Rehydrated scrambled egg celebrates in Rob’s birthday and he opens his cards before we set off (this is on record as Rob’s quietest birthday since “coming of age”). I put my backpack on and immediately affected by the same crippling pain in the back as the day before. I take the pack off in case I can adjust it to make it more comfortable but I’ve only got soft stuff packed in the back so I don’t know what I’ll be able to move. Incredibly I find three sets of keys in an inside pocket that has been digging me squarely in the back for the whole of the previous day, doh! Much more comfortable we set off at a more leisurely pace than the day before. We’ve a shorter walk to do today, just 9.5km so we get there by early afternoon and lounge happily on the beach. Receiving a burnt bum (my usual tan sees me with a white shorts line so my bum is a bit more sensitive to the sun in my bikini), we cook tea. Starting with some mussels that we’ve picked on the beach, we unfortunately then overcook them and have to throw them away. Never mind, some noodles, more rehydrated food and a tiny bottle of wine is the posh birthday dinner.

After tea we return to the beach as Rob remembers a cave with glow worms in it from his previous visit three years earlier. The tide is on its way out so we roll up the combats and wade through the shallow waters to the collection of caves. The first couple are disappointing and the third is blocked with a large branch so I leave Rob to scramble over and explore on his own. Seconds later he is calling excitedly for me to join him so I scramble over the branch too and squeeze through a short passage into a small cave which seems to go up vertically for several metres. Sure enough the tiny flecks of green that signify glow worms are clearly visible, but Rob assures me that the best is yet to come. By the light of a tiny keyring torch Rob illuminates the cave wall above the entrance I’ve just squeezed through. The wall is covered in something I later learn is a cave weta, it looks like a 3 inch cross between a grasshopper and a prawn with big long feelers twitching away, there must be thousands of them. I’m out of the cave and back on the beach before Rob can even draw breath, my skin crawling, much to Rob’s amusement.

What should be a sound nights sleep after the days walk is destroyed by the presence of another monster snorer ensconced in a mosi-net that surrounds him and five others so we have no means of waking him. With sandflies and mosquitoes rife outside we can’t even escape outside, after a couple of hours we finally manage to nod off.

The final day of the walk involves an 11.5km walk which we manage to complete in 2.5hours as the incentive of a shower and some proper food entices us on. We drive via a supermarket back to Motueka and pay for a good camp site. Bellies full of bangers and mash and a nice hot shower and we’re feeling human again.

With the manifest shuffled round again on the Saturday we manage a couple more jumps before high winds again ground skydiving for the afternoon so we bid our farewells and push on with our trip, heading across towards the west coast and the town of Westport. Taking in the somewhat hilarious view of a man cycling with his shorts hitched right up his bum we are some miles out of Motoeka before we realise we’re running low on fuel. Spying an old service station we decide to pull in for the night to wait for it to open in the morning. We’re greeted by a Staffordshire bull terrier who somewhat nervously assesses us before deciding we’re harmless enough and befriends us instead of attacking us. She is soon joined by an older dog and two gambol about happily alternating between ragging each other and trying to beg our food of us with big puppy dog eyes. The local pub has a rowdy race night on and we’re a little worried that we’re going to get some grief from the local drunken yokels but fortunately we get no bother. The younger dog decided to guard our van as I discover in the middle of the night when I return from the toilet and startle it. I hadn’t seen it as I’m not wearing my contact lenses and I’m not sure who took the bigger fright but fortunately it recognises my voice and the growl turns to a wag of the tail, thank goodness I shared my tea with it earlier!

On the road again...

We’d already decided before coming across that with just a month to spend in NZ we would stick to the south island and enjoy where we travelled rather than zooming from place to place without really stopping and trying to cover both Islands. That means we’ll miss out on some exceptional sights in the North to be sure but it’s a sacrifice worth making, we feel, to enjoy the relaxed pace of life for which the kiwis are famed.

The first day we head up the East coast and see for the first time (at least for me) the dramatic coastline. We opt to camp on the beach a short distance before the town and idle away a few hours exploring rockpools and then building a campfire, or rather we take in turns collecting firewood then Rob does his “man make fire” bit and makes the fire. We’re struggling to get sufficient firewood to keep the fire going and I widen the search a bit then get a bit over ambitious and attempt to haul an entire tree back along the beach. It has the desired affect though and the fire keeps us going until we turn in for bed.

A glorious sunrise greets us in the morning and we call briefly into the Kaikora for breakfast before heading on further up the coast. Alongside the road we spot signs for skydiving so we drop in to enquire on the chances of a fun jump and we’re told its unlikely as the operation is really only for tandems. We’re warned that this is likely to be the story at most DZs in NZ but they suggest we try Abel Tasman as they apparently are most geared up for it. We call into Nelson to book our places on the Abel Tasman track (we’re determined to get fit and enjoy the out of doors over here even though my heels are still feeling a little bit bruised from my landing a couple of weeks ago). Yet again the track accommodation is almost fully booked and we have only one option available if we aren’t to camp. We toy briefly with the idea of hiring camping gear but I don’t relish the prospect of carrying that as well as our food and clothing for 3 days over the 40km of hilly track so we opt again for the huts and we’re booked in for two days time.

After a somewhat appalling Guinness pie (dried out completely) we buy the dried food we think we’ll need for the track (dried potato, vegetables, noodles, soup etc. etc.) and carry on through to Motoeka. By now the skies have clouded over but we call into the DZ anyway just to show our faces. James, a British lad that we jumped with at the Equinox boogie, is actually working manifest and the owner was at the boogie too so we’re told to come back the next day and assured of a jump. We set up camp again by the beach and the sky clears as evening approaches giving us fresh hope for the morning.

Clear blue skies greet us when we wake and Rob springs out of bed, almost driving me down there while I’m still in bed, he allows me the dignity of at least dressing but not getting breakfast before we’re back at the club. As promised the guys juggle manifest and we’re fitted on a lift with the tandems and given the pleasure of some stunning views out up the coast as we ride up to altitude. A couple of jumps later things quieten down for a bit as the wind picks up too much to jump and we sit and have a good chat to the owner about the NZ skydive scene and of course the Nox boogie. He advises that we try the DZ down in Fox Glacier as he is mates with the owner and says he is a mad keen fun-jumper too and was also at the Nox so we might be in with a chance. He offers for us to store our gear at the DZ while we do the Abel Tasman track which gives us some peace of mind at least so we store all of our stuff away and then push off up to Marahau where we’ll get a water taxi from early next morning to start the walk.

Initial campsites in Marahau are fully booked but we call in at Old McDonald’s Farm (no kidding) and we secure a site. The sight of three pot bellied pigs scurrying into the hedge as we go back to the van delights me and after dropping the camper off at our plot we have a further explore and discover Llamas, sheep, more pigs, chickens, peacocks and the like in various fields round the site and a very cute Jack Russell scampering round like he owns the place. Apart from some cheeky people who decide to pull up on our plot in their car late at night to sleep (to which I was too cowardly to ask them to leave but I made several loud comments to let them know what I thought of them freeloading, (weak I know, but they left really early so it may have had some effect)) the site was a good spot and we awoke next day and packed all our gear early ready for our first “expedition”.

Christchurch

Travelling Virgin Blue, i.e. cheap as chips airline, we have a short four hour flight before arriving in NZ. We didn’t realise that four hours could be quite so tortuous however. As meals and drinks aren’t complimentary on the flight, the attendants started our journey by touting those. This was followed shortly afterwards by duty free and souvenirs of the flight. Up next, as a celebration of an anniversary of Virgin, we were subjected to a toilet roll race down either side of the plane. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the staff then grabbed “volunteers” (under much duress) to stand up and join them in demonstrating some in-flight aerobic exercises which we were all encouraged to join in with. Without respite the staff then went back to touting food/drink/souvenirs etc. I could pity the staff as for the entire flight they probably only shut up for about 30minutes in total (never more than 10minutes in one stretch), in the circumstances however, I pitied the passengers more, us included, some peace and quiet wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Arriving late evening kiwi time we grab a shuttle bus to the hostel (witnessing our first kiwi possum crossing the road in the city centre), check in, dump our bags and head downstairs to the bar for a well earned pint. It’s past midnight in local time but to us feels around 9pm so imagine our disappointment when we find we’ve missed last orders. Fortunately there is a bar down the street that operates a late license so we push on down there. Loud music and dim lighting greets us, but the beer isn’t bad and there is some quality people-watching to be had which suits us just fine and we manage to unwind before heading back to the hostel.

Our room at the hostel was possibly the broom cupboard in a previous life, but the rest of the hostel is well equipped with internet facilities, a lounge full of comfy sofas and permanently running sky movie channel, a big decked patio area and a good kitchen which hosts, much to Rob’s delight, a freebie box where previous lodgers can leave any food they don’t want to take with them. Rob manages to hoist several packs of noodles, some porridge and a jar of vegemite, then upstairs discovers a box of wine that has hardly been touched, dinner is served!

Just a block away from the very centre of the city we head to the information centre to gather information on the cost of hostels, car hire, camping, buses etc.. We then retire to the Irish pub for a pint and some rather scrummy nosh to wade through it all and weigh up the different options. (Did I mention that the weather turned hot and sunny just today, so yet again we are blessed with fantastic weather, which of course in turn gives one a bit of a thirst…) After deciding a camper might again be a good option we return to the hostel to delve deeper into the information. Deciding a further day is required to make the best decision we book another night and relax with the free wine in front of the movies. Early in the morning we head to a local café for breakfast and are faced with the most enormous portions imaginable. My scrambled eggs have the consistency of yoghurt and a none to pleasant flavour so I just about manage the rest of my food but Rob ends up with a doggy box of pretty much half his plate which he whisks back to the hostel for later. (You can’t help but question why they don’t just do normal portions to start off with?)

Another tour of the city, the purchasing of the prerequisite bone art necklaces and some outdoor gear from one of the many outdoor shops about, we return to the hostel to book our “micro-camper” for a month. The micro-camper is actually an estate car with a mattress in the back and an awning that fits over the boot to give a small area you can stand up in. It appears the only affordable option as the other campers that are advertised at bargain prices are only available at such during their winter months of May to September (any other time and they can cost as much as four times the price). With the freedom this allows us we make a booking for the Milford Track, reportedly one of THE walks to do in NZ. It appears so, as we are offered the 30th to commence the track as the only available date until April, (we later discover that we must have got a cancellation as the whole track was booked out until April last September). The track must be walked over 4 days and everyone has to walk in the same direction with only 40 independent walkers allowed on the track a day both to preserve the experience, the track and also because that is all the available accommodation can support, camping isn’t allowed due to the high level of rain that falls in the area (the other name for the second half of the track is the valley of waterfalls). I digress, (just for a change), lets just say we were lucky to get our places anyway.

Next day we’re up to pick up the camper and we’re offered a campervan, not unlike our one in Oz, for an extra $200 for the month. This was supposed to be an extra $1000 so we take 10seconds to decide then grab the chance and get back to the hostel for the bags with just 15minutes to spare before we have to check out.

New Year and Nationals

The week before new year sees Rob back in the air and with people egging us on we decide to have a go at trying some freestyle in readiness to enter a fun team at the Nationals. With all the talk there could be up to 5 teams in the category, one serious and then the rest of us trying it for more or less the first time. I get out my book on freestyle and start trying out the moves and thinking out a routine. I’m even trying moves out in the pool in the morning. Naomi, the girl from the serious team arrives and gives me some top tips, first of all get rid of the baggy suit and big trainers if I can. I hop off into town and manage to buy leggings and tiny plimsolls for less than $20 in total and I’m equipped. Lots of pointing toes and smiling and I should be there.

New Years eve sees the girls back up as the party they thought was going to be happening in Sydney seems a bit flat, even Laura is back up with a gang from Melbourne so it just seems like old times. A few glasses of wine and some beers later and we’re celebrating in the new year as some people do a midnight jump in. Memories are a little hazy after that, although I seem to have collected quite an array of hats, remember wearing the big sunglasses and have a very faint recollection of running round the accuracy pit with a flare and not a lot else on, my only saving grace was that I couldn’t get the flare lit so I wasn’t that illuminated… I’m not going to struggle to regain that memory…

New Years day sees me nursing a headache from hell (which I of course blame on the red wine and not the cocktail of stuff I’d glugged down) and I avoid all daylight rising only to visit the bathroom and drink some squash.

The second is the first day of the Nationals, the practice day, time to register and for the draw to be done. We duly register as “Chocolate Monkey” and by the time registration has closed we discover there is only us and Naomi’s team in it so we’re guaranteed a medal, cool! The draw is carried out at getting on for 10pm and we’re a bit taken aback to discover the moves we’ve been practising are a little out of date (like by ten years) and what we now have to do is a lot more complicated. Treble somersaults with turns thrown in followed by cartwheels with a twist, back loops and front loops and pirouettes… the list is scarily long. Undeterred we’re in for the long haul and Naomi kindly sorts us out with a breakdown of all the moves and her cameraman Luke gets us a copy of the rules, looks like we’ve some serious swotting to do but tonight isn’t the time and I’m off to sleep to dream of it all.

The competition progresses with us scoring consistently lower than Naomi and Luke (no surprise there especially after I see her go spinning out of the plane), but at least we’re scoring something. My new shoes are causing me some grief as they now appear to be a little too short so my feet are effectively bowed inside them and that coupled with “dropping” onto my feet on landing leaves me with bruised heels and a swollen ankle. I rest it and we’re lucky that our next round isn’t until the next day so by strapping it up and returning to my oversize trainers (how good does that look with leggings?!) I complete the comp.. The artistic events are over by Tuesday and we’re awarded our medals. They are huge and we’re well chuffed, okay so there was only 2 teams but at least we gave it our best effort and I’m keen tokeep on doing it. Rob is invited onto a 10-way speed team and Shaz, who couldn’t keep staying away, returns and gets on the team too. I joked about feeling left out but with my feet I’d not have risked jumping anyway. With the other FS events complete by Wednesday the 10-way speed is played out on Thursday which is my birthday (its been a birthday week with Cassie on the Tuesday and Claire on the Wednesday.) Rob treats me to breakfast and then a full body massage from Cecelia mid morning. It’s a full deep tissue massage so it could be quite uncomfortable at times but it felt so good afterwards. Rob and Shaz came in with another silver so Rob collected his second gong that night and the other team members had also won medals in the 4-way and 8-way events so there was much celebrating to be had.

First though Rob whisked me into town for a private meal, which wasn’t as good as we’d hoped but it was great just to get off the DZ for a bit. When I got back I was greeted with a birthday cake with candles, a t-shirt and a card full of well wishes from everyone at the club. The party ran on all night, but after New Year I’d learnt my lesson and enjoyed watching everyone else get trollied instead. I called it a night at 1:30am but some were still up by the pool at 11am, good party!

After a day of rest for everyone a few more days of fun jumping at the club were marred slightly by one of the guys having a hard landing, which fortunately he is now on the road to recovery from, although it looked very bleak initially. Following the Nationals everyone returned to their home DZs or back to work and the place quietened down again. Rob and I got a few more jumps in then gave the van an overhaul and repacked our bags ready for our trip to New Zealand.

Howard had kindly offered to let us stay at his apartment the night before our flight in Brisbane and cheeky as we are he also then agreed to look after the camper and our excess luggage while we were away too. By slight recompense we went out for the evening in Brisi, his girlfriend Claire was unfortunately already booked at the theatre but the three of us enjoyed some Sushi followed by a couple of beers and some good live jazz in a local bar anyway. Claire recommended a good hairdresser in town and Howard rang to book me in while we were out so the next day I was able to get my haircut for the first time in over 7 months and we were all set for our trip to kiwiland.