Last day in NZ

We manage to get up early, drop our bags at the hostel, wash the van and drop it off all before 10:30am so we’ve a good day to wander round Christchurch, sort through some info from the tourist office for my parents and then just chill out in our favourite Irish Pub for lunch, smashed potatoes washed down with Kilkenny, yum. Rob picks up a big box to send one of his rigs back home in and nips back into town to post it then we head down to the bar which is offering half price beer. By the time we realise we should eat something we’re quite giggly and the poor girl serving has to be patient while we place our order for pizza. We’ve a taxi ordered for 4am so after just 4hrs in bed we’re staggering up for a shower, before heading for the airport and I’m sad to leave NZ behind us for the last time.

Last view of the NZ coast

Its our last day in the van and we’re looking to head up to spend the night near Christchurch ready to return the van early next morning. The sardines have been eaten in the night, probably by a possum, saving us the task of cleaning them up and we breakfast on porridge before heading back up the coast. I pull in at the Tin Shed to again look for potential presents, but despite the range of sheepskin and wool products they stock nothing springs to mind except for some very cute cowskin Ug boots which look very cute against my now tanned legs. Resisting the temptation to buy them I satisfy myself with feeding carrots to two very fat greedy pigs with huge teeth and two very cute donkeys they have on the petting farm out back. Even Rob gets out of the van to view them.

I suggest camping again on the coast near Lyttelton, south of Christchurch but after driving up and down the steep windy roads to get there, there is nowhere obvious to free-camp for the night so we stop in town to enquire at the tourist information office for the nearest campsite. The town is tiny and looks quite inbred plus there are no campsites near by so we grab some fish from the local chip shop, which is very good and then head to North-East of Christchurch near to a place called Scarborough for the night.

Finding a spot in the shade we set up, sort through all our stuff so we’re more or less packed for the morning then I persuade Rob to go for a stroll along the beach. It’s a pleasant evening and while walking back down the beach we stop to pet someone’s dog (or rather it launches itself at me and nearly knocks me flying with wet sandy paws) and we stop for a chat with the rather eccentric owner who has lived his whole life in this particular town and has some fascinating insights into the changes he has seen, not to mention a few funny anecdotes. We finally make our excuses and part, but he has suggested that we take a scenic walk around the other bay rather than back along the road or beach so we head off in that direction. By this time the wind has picked up and once we’re over the dunes and onto the other bay it is positively howling. We battle our way back along with the sea coming up over the boardwalk in places and finally spot the campsite through some trees as the rain is starting to come down.

I think it is funny but Rob swears never to take my suggestion of a nice little walk again so I have to placate him with chocolate and crisps from the shop. After a somewhat odd tea of our leftover food in the van, (in which my soup turned black after the addition of my field mushrooms but actually tasted quite nice), we settled down for a read then bed.

Big Trees and Beaches

Next day, I’m keen to hit the road, I’ve read up on what is North of us and a vast forest apparently exists with a huge tree in the centre that is 6m in diameter. Rob is less than enthusiastic and as we walk in the woods keeps asking questions like he is on a school trip “is this the big tree? Are we there yet?” over and over again to wind me up. This just adds to my disappointment when we finally reach the tree and I realise I’ve misread the guide, the tree is 6m in circumference and so, although quite large, nothing like the mighty red woods for example that you’d get in the States that I’d pictured, even if it is a few thousand years old.

We troop back to the van and I agree that it probably isn’t the best place to stop for the night so back on the road I’m scanning the guidebook and suggest taking in the coast again. We travel back South a little to a place called Temuka where we agree to split up for a bit as I try yet again in vain to find something for family back home. Meeting back up after each snaffling a McD’s we have a stroll along the beach back to the campsite.

Rob has enough food in the van for tea so settles back but I’m keen for some salad so take a stroll to the nearest supermarket which is huge, even making Walmart look small. They don’t provide shopping baskets only enormous trolleys and going in there hungry isn’t the best of ideas but by reminding myself that we are flying out in a couple of days I manage to minimise the shopping, just.

As soon as I sit down for tea I’m surrounded by ducks and ducklings all wanting their share, so the bread comes out again and their soon quacking away with tails waggling. Rob tries them on the sardines but they turn their bills up in disgust and waddle off. The TV lounge is showing the movie Mummy so we settle to watch that before turning into for the night with the plate of sardines still sitting on the floor outside untouched and me nervously locking all the doors for fear of a mummy invasion...

Back Upt' North

Next day, suitably rested and filled we set off on the road again. We’re heading back up to the mountain region, through the centre of the country this time, so on the other side of Mount Cook to before. Trev had told us how beautiful it was that way but as we got closer a damp grey mist of fog and drizzle descended and the views were largely obscured. Driving along Lake Pukaki we can still see how bright turquoise the waters are from the glacial flows but all else disappears in the mist. The huge hotel at Mount Cook is swarming with Japanese tourists but after a quick look in the DOC visitors centre we make our way back out of town to the DOC campsite. Rob agrees to us staying the night as its late afternoon and although the forecast isn’t great there is a slim possibility that we might get a view of the mountain in the morning, so we cook tea from within the van and watch the rain come down as the couple next door pitch their tent and then hide in the car.

The morning dawns bright and unexpectedly clear, so after Rob has had his now favourite breakfast of vegemite and avocado on toast (we’ve been down under too long!), we decide to take one of the shorter walks up to the glaciers. The waters are like pale clay with all the sediment and we walk on up to a small lake under Mount Cook where the views are beautiful but we’ve been spoilt viewing it from the other side and, after a spot of lunch, we’re happy to head back to the van and get back on the road, at least we’ve managed a bit of exercise.

Driving back round the end of Lake Pukaki we stop briefly to take in the bright waters again with the Mountain now making a fine backdrop in the distance but the whole scene is too bright for photos to do it any real justice and we carry on to Lake Tekapo. Another bright turquoise lake and the campsite right on the shores but we’re happy to pitch up under the shade of the trees and chill for the evening. The local sparrows are nothing if not cheeky and as soon as we are relaxing they flock around the van looking for food. Lucky for them we’ve just bought some bread and before long there must be 40 or so of them all getting closer and closer, even onto the step of the van. We eat corned beef and mash for tea, but Rob finds an odd lump in his which soon kills our appetites and even the sparrows won’t touch it. Later on Rob gives himself another haircut and provides them with some bedding material, then showered and rested we get some sleep.

Bungy!

After a much deserved lie in we head back up to Queenstown, find a campsite on the edge of town and head in to book the bungy, the triple the next day, eek! The town is buzzing with backpackers and tour buses. So we settle down for a couple of beers and some people watching.

The first bungy we’ll do in the morning is the bridge one and I’m left thinking about it all night trying to decide if I should get dipped or not. By morning I’ve decided to go for it, (you only do this once right? Unless you’re Rob of course, its his second time for the triple), so armed with my bikini top under my t-shirt for just in case, we arrive at the office in town.

Once weighed and with our weight kindly displayed in big marker pen letters on our hands, we set off in the bus to the bridge. There are only three of us doing the triple so Rob volunteers to go first and I’m second as the other guy wants Rob to video his jump for him. I ask advice from the guys on the bridge on how best to jump off so I can get dipped and I’m getting a bit nervous as unlike the proper leg cuffs they used in Auckland, here we are just tied on with a towel wrapped around our legs and a bit of webbing tied around that. Rob seems confident enough though and is leaps off, getting neatly dunked in the river and then lowered into the raft that is waiting below. My turn and I waddle nervously to the edge, take a deep breath and dive off as instructed. I close my eyes and brace my chin to my chest as directed, preparing for the impact of the water, but before I know it I’m springing back in the air, dry as a bone. I’m lowered into the boat, relieved but a little disappointed not to get wet and as the video shows later you can hear the guys in charge calling out that I’ve been robbed at not getting wet. Oh well, jump 2 next and it’s the big one.

The bus is back to collect us to take us to the Nevis, the cable car bungy over a ravine and the highest static bungy in the world. The bus is now full of young people, some of them obviously suffering from the excesses of the night before (Rob hears one of them being sick in the toilet when we arrive and isn’t sure if it a hangover or nerves). Again we are weighed and then they start sending everyone out in weight order, heaviest first. This makes things easier for them as with such a long bungy they have to alter the cord used according to the weight of the individual. I’m allowed over early together with another girl as we are with blokes who obviously weigh a bit more, but all this means is we have to wait in the cable car longer. We travel across in the tiny car to the jump-pod with a lad pale faced and shaking he is so petrified of heights. He is white knuckled as he grips the pod to get out of the cable car and we’re questioning if he is going to jump at all as he waits his turn behind perhaps half a dozen other lads. Everyone jumps and reacts differently and as it comes to him everyone hushes apart from voicing odd words of encouragement, but without a pause he jumps cleanly off, whoops with delight on the rebound and comes up wearing the biggest grin. He even insists on getting his photo taken by the glass panel in the floor.

Rob’s turn and he with a slightly nervous laugh he is shuffling to the edge then leaps off and tracks away as far as he can. He is grinning away when he returns, but I’m getting more and more nervous, there are about 20 in our group and I’m going to be second to last and the waiting is getting to me. The rebound looks quite harsh and I’m worried its going to hurt, plus you have to release your legs on the second rebound or you come back up hung like a pig upside down, which doesn’t look comfortable. My turn finally comes round, I’m listening intently to all the instructions and all moisture has gone from my mouth. I leap off and it feels fantastic, the rebound is gentle and I release my legs easily, only the device that tows you back up comes down with a bit of a bang and I’m wishing I could do it all again without the nerves.

Jump 3 is the ledge, the shortest one but a cable car ride to the top of the hill overlooking Queenstown so offering some fantastic views. Plus with this one you’re attached at the waist so you can jump off any number of ways. Rob opts for a treble front somersault and leaps off happily, but he is snatched up sharply and I worry that it has hurt his arm plus he comes right up underneath and looks like he might hit. He comes back in with a grin though and its my turn. I’m not sure I’m co-ordinated enough trust myself to do somersaults so the guy offers to lower me off backwards then just let go. It will be the first one I haven’t consciously jumped for and he toys with me dangling me backwards up and down a few times before finally letting go. There is a delayed reaction as the full sensation of falling hits me and I scream out a yelp of surprise and probably horror. The elastic is much stronger and in my graceful (not!) upside down position I’m snatched back round with the rope catching my thigh. No harm done though and I’m grinning like an idiot, a great end to the experience.

We nip into town for a bite to eat then back to the campsite for a shower and to dress up for a night on the town, something we haven’t really done since being away. The place is buzzing and we take in a few different bars, being adopted briefly in one by a group of U.S. students on a work experience break over there, most of whom are really nice, friendly and chatty but one who pointedly tells me “not to read anything into it, one of the guys is friendly to everyone” before stalking off to another bar. The guy in question has been happily swapping music tastes with Rob for a while and the girl next to him exclaims in relief when the snotty one leaves, thought it was just me she didn’t like but apparently that is just what she is like. Apologies all round and they head off then we head out in search of another pub.

We find a nice little old place down a back street and ask permission to join a table with a middle aged couple sat at it. Larger than life the pair keep us entertained with tales of nude sunbathing on the beach and the saga of her struggle to maintain the balance between her best friend and her sister who hate each other. Its her birthday so on this night they were grabbing a quiet moment before the two had to come face to face and at just that moment the two arrive from different directions, almost like a stand off in a cowboy movie and the air almost sparks with the atmosphere. With apologetic shrugs and a knowing wink they all leave for a night club and Rob and I move down the road to a cellar club, with a resident DJ playing some mellow dance music. We get chatting to the girl behind the bar about where is the best place to go to and she soon has a map out and a list of all the clubs in town, crossing them off and highlighting them to let us know where to go and when. We stay on for a couple of drinks and by then the place we’re in is filling and the music is more upbeat house with the dancefloor heaving. We’re soon in the thick of it with big grins on our faces until I decide I need to cool off outside for a bit and Rob joins me and we agree we’re ready for bed. Not quite the all nighter we’d had planned but we’ve had a great time and are happy to call it there.

The next day we’re feeling the effects and I leave Rob to sleep it off, booking us in for one more night at the campsite and popping out for a sushi breakfast and some supplies for tea. The lady in the next van is flying back next day so pushes their supply of bacon and sausages onto to us and we’re sorted for a full cooked brekkie next morning.

Milford Track

After doing the Abel Tasman walk we’ve decided that the less we can get away with carrying the better, so armed with small rucksacks containing just two t-shirts, a jumper, waterproofs, combats and the food, cutlery, bowls and water bottles we’ll need, we arrive early to catch the bus that takes all the walkers to the ferry and on to the track. Once we’re on board the ferry we are amazed at the size of some of the bags the other walkers are taking, some of them are as big as the little girls carrying them. We’re hoping they are fit as we’ve felt just how much difference carrying your pack can make to you when you walk all day.

After a scenic trip across the lake, with commentary on the history of the pioneers of this trail, we have just a one and a half hour, 5km forecasted route to the first hut. After just an hour we reach our base for the night, three huts called collectively Clinton Hut with a viewing platform out over the wetlands. We’re here by early afternoon so relax and have a bite to eat before exploring back along the track a bit to view the wetlands a little closer and along the banks of the Clinton river from which the hut takes its name. We can presume that the river is good for its trout as three men dressed in stripy tights and pink fluffy deelyboppers, (it takes all sorts…), clutching flyfishing rods pass us by. By evening all the walkers have arrived at the huts and are busy settling in and making their respective dinners. We’re accosted by a small but very loud American woman who enquires if we’re Scottish and asks about how much training we’ve put in in preparation for the walk. We explain that we’ve not done much, as we only booked a couple of weeks earlier but that we’ve done the Abel Tasman walk, to which she voices first surprise that we managed to book so recently and then scoffs that the Abel Tasman isn’t a real walk and as such no real preparation.

We’re interrupted at this point by our hut warden who gives us a run down, Hitler style, of our responsibilities around the huts and then gives us an idea of what we’ll encounter on our next days walk. She suggests that if we arrive at the second hut early enough and the weather is good we should drop off our bags then press on to the top as the weather might not be as favourable the following day. This would turn a 16.5km walk into one closer to 30km and Rob and I make a pact not to follow this advice. Day 3 is supposed to be the most challenging anyway without us knackering ourselves the day before.

Off to bed and early to rise, we’re soon breakfasted, packed up and on our way. We follow the Clinton river up to its source at Lake Mintaro, the start of the Mackinnon Pass and past the Pompolona Ice fields as well as several waterfalls. We’re still blessed with uncharacteristically hot and dry weather so the waterfalls are more like trickles but the path is leafy and beautiful and we make good time, getting to Mintaro hut in 4hrs, 2hrs less than forecast. After reading the literature on the walk, I’m relieved not to have been wading waist deep though rivers and flooded pathways and this probably accounts for our good time.

Nearly two hours after we’ve arrived the little loud American (ref.LLA) arrives with her entourage and claims bunks adjacent to ours. They complain of having been kept awake all the previous night by a loud snorer and she asks how our walk has gone, pealing off her socks to reveal a large blister on her foot. I brush off the days walk as having been easier than I thought but the next day is supposed to be the hard one, she doesn’t look pleased. They start to unpack and the size of their packs is explained by the shear quantity of ready meals they have packed, they must have bought every one in the store, plus a box of wine and a dozen bars of chocolate. I like life’s comforts, but right now I’m far happier having two hours less to walk and a bag of nuts to munch on following my dinner.

That night I’m kept awake by the LLA’s husband snoring his head off and the LLA loudly whispering for him to shut up and shining her torch in my eyes as she shines it in his to wake him up… and she complained about snoring. At least she is trying to quieten him down I guess.

Day 3 and we’re up early again. The LLA complains loudly at breakfast that the Germans in our room kept her awake snoring until I silence her with a stare, can’t believe she has the nerve. The weather is on our side and its crisp blue skies as we make the final push to the monument at the top, the highest point on the walk. With fantastic panoramic views back along the valley we’ve walked and on into the next valley, we visit the “loo with a view” and carry on our way. The walk is now mostly downhill over rocky craggy ground and I’m grateful yet again for the fine dry weather as the rocks can be slippery enough when they are dry. The distance to the next hut is 14km with a forecast 5.5hrs for this leg, but we make good time and opt to take a 5km detour (fortunately without our big packs) to visit the base of the Sutherland falls, the tallest falls in NZ. The noise from the falls is incredible and we ditch our cameras in a bush to have a go at clambering behind the falls. Even metres away we are greeted by the spray and within seconds are soaked and I’m blinking blindly as the water runs down my face streaming mosi guard and sun tan lotion into my contact lenses. We carry on to the edge of the fall, our trainers now buckets of water before finally turning back. Rob has spotted several large rocks, that unlike all those around them aren’t covered in the green algae and moss which suggests they have been there some time. The likelihood that they have travelled over the falls with the water puts us off getting any closer and at least refreshed from our “dip” we return back to the track and the final hike to the hut.

Despite the detour we are still at the hut in under 6hrs, we’ve kept a steady pace all day and for the second day running we’re first to arrive at the hut for the night. Going through the ritual of rinsing and hanging out our t-shirts to dry and leaving our trainers to air we explore a little and try taking a dip in a nearby waterhole but the water is so icy cold we don’t brave it for long.

The rest of the walkers come in in dribs and drabs, some of them taking 14hrs to do the days walk and that without the detour up to the falls. We can only think their huge bags are to blame. Scotty the warden for the night at Dumpling Hut lets us know what we are in for the next day, telling us it will take as long as it has taken the day before to do the final days walk. We don’t have to be there till 2pm for the first ferry and 3:15pm for the latter one so we are comfortable that we have an easy day ahead but some of the crew are quite distressed at the prospect and plan an early start, (one group didn’t actually make it to the hut until after we had gone to bed and had left in the morning before we even got up!)

Day 4 and by the time we’ve casually got ready there only remains one other couple at the hut. As a bit of fun we decide to count the people we are passing during the day, counting back from the total on the walk, with 39 people in our group, 2 left behind and the two of us we’ve 35 walkers ahead of us at the start. The advantage that our tiny packs gives us is soon evident, by the time we’ve passed Mackay Falls, Bell rock (so named because it is shaped like a huge bell that you can climb under and inside, which I do despite my fear now of cave wetas), and get to Giants Gate (another big waterfall) we meet up with the final two of the 35. It turns out to be the husband of the LLA and her much nicer American friend. We’ve passed the LLA almost an hour back on the track and the husband and friend are discussing how she (the LLA) is jealous of said friend and now not speaking to her. I don’t think that walking off together without her will have been the best thing for improving her humour but at least it gives Rob and I something to gossip about for the last leg of our trip.

We reach the final hut at Sandfly point and as usual are tortured by the presence of the guided tour’s hut. All along the route have been alternate huts for the guided walkers, paying up to ten times what we have paid they have the luxury of proper bedlinen and food cooked for them (and probably flushing toilets and showers). This final hut appears no different, ours is bare apart from a bench running round the outside and a wood burning stove in the centre. Theirs contains padded seats as well as tea, coffee, orange juice and cookies, torture to us and Rob and I joke about how to break in, squeezing me through the ventilation duct or a window, just as a track warden arrives, which just adds to our humour (picture the window just above head height and my legs sticking out of it as he comes round the corner). The nice American lady arrives with LLA’s husband and we venture down to the end of the jetty where Rob persuades me, after much deliberation, to jump into the fiord. Crikey its freezing, but at least I’m feeling a touch cleaner and the sun is hot enough to warm me as soon as I’m back out.

We get back to the hut and the others are coming in, the couple that came and went in the night comment on seeing us awake for a change and the LLA settles down to examine her blisters and start showing off with all the food they still have to eat. She has been quizzing us all along as to whether we have been eating and now remarks on us both just wearing trainers as opposed to her big hiking boots. She can’t believe that we’ve done the whole track without all the rubbish she has been carrying (we even saw a small shovel in the rucksack of her husband on one night). Rob is wearing his Mercer t-shirt so the obligatory “oh have you done a skydive?” question comes out and she quizzes me likewise, we affirm that we have each done “a skydive” and she also delights in telling us all the extreme sports her and her husband have been up to in recent weeks, although skydiving “isn’t for her”. She works for AJ Hackett and tells us all the places we should go to do a bungy, but I’m pretty sure doing the three in Queenstown will suffice.

We get the early ferry back to Milford Sound but unfortunately as we’re booked on a later coach we can’t get the earlier one to Te Anau. Damn, nothing for it we’ll just have to hit the pub, a couple of bottles of ice cold beer and a bowl of chips, bliss. After a scenic drive back we collect our little van, shower up and head into town for a bite to eat. I’d spotted a place on our first day there and we decide, after 4 days of re-hydrated meals, to treat ourselves. The food actually doesn’t work out any more expensive than the pub up the road, but it was sooo the right decision. I opt for a Lamb Roast dinner and Rob has a Beef Wellington which is probably the best I’ve ever tasted, the Kepler Family Restaurant is definitely going down in my book for must visit places!

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.