(driving to our hut on Onuku Farm, 10th February 2008)
Let’s recap; we’re late leaving Perth, finally taking off at around 1.15am. half an hour after we leave, we get served ‘supper’, which is a hot meal, and we work out that, after allowing for all the weird time differences, it is around 4.00am Sydney time. Neither of us sleep at all and we land at 8.10am (in Sydney and on Sydney time) having been told by the crew that our connecting flight is boarding at 8.50am. We run to a coach, which takes us to a different Terminal, where we run to passport control, and stand in a line. After ten minutes standing in line the guy at the desk asks to see our passports and declaration form. Nobody has told us we need declaration forms, so he gives us blanks and sends us to the back of the queue. The forms take ages to fill in (of course), the line we re-join is the slowest, and at one point I genuinely think that the line is getting longer. We amuse ourselves by putting odds on the chances of our bags reaching Christchurch on the same flight as us.
We finally get through, run to the departure lounge, get to our gate at 9.00am to find our fellow passengers sitting and waiting calmly. Of course, the flight is delayed. We sit down and wait calmly as well. When we get on we get another meal, this time called ‘lunch’, at 10.30am, before landing at Christchurch, on New Zealand’s South Island, at 2.30pm, local time, still without sleeping. The shuttle into town is quick, we find our hostel, which is called Stonehurst, have a shower and go out to explore.
Chelle glances at an evening newspaper as we pass a cafe and sees the reason our flight to Christchurch was delayed. A woman had attacked the pilot and some of the passengers with a knife on an internal flight from Blenheim to Christchurch. No-one had been seriously hurt, but the airport security had taken it all very seriously and all flights had been delayed. I think we would probably have been too tired to care by that point if we’d known about it.
We’re desperately trying to stay awake until late evening, and while we wait for a table at our chosen restaurant we have a beer, and then another. A night without sleeping, plus the changes in time-zone added to a couple of very nice but strong beers and no food means we both feel quite drunk. We finally eat, and stagger back to the hostel, collapsing on the bed and sleeping very well indeed.
We have no real concrete plans for being in Christchurch, so when we finally wake up late the next morning, we walk back into the city, which takes no longer than 10 minutes, and have a proper look around. We hunt for a Vodaphone store, to see if we can get a sim card for our phone that was bought in Australia. It’s not good news – of course different countries have different networks, and to get it all sorted would be way too expensive. We decide to struggle on without one.
Brunch is required, and we head for a place called ‘Dux De Lux’, a bar that, according to the Lonely Planet book, has a fair selection for vegetarians. When we get there, it has a fair selection of beer too, so we select one each, order some nachos for brunch, and sit outside in the sun. The place is packed, and we spot a poster advertising a live band playing tonight. We decide we must come back later in the evening, and go for a walk around the nearby market while listening to the jazz band that has set up on the green in between.
Amazingly, a plan actually comes together and that evening we are back at the ‘Dux De Lux’ eating chunky fries and watching the support band called ‘Teacher’s Pet’ – actually a school band with their teacher up front singing and playing guitar. They sound like Lloyd Cole played by, well, kids.
We’re drinking local beer, leaning on the wall at the back watching ‘Sunburn’, the main band. We decide that Cameron and Maddie would love them. They are a couple of years older than the support band, sound like ‘Enter Shakari’, and are still largely playing to their friends, but they have potential. Despite the terrible name. They do an excellent version of the Crowdies’ ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’, we applaud them and walk back to our hostel at 2.00am.
The next morning we pick up our next hire car, a Toyota something or other with 110,000km on the clock. The brakes are a little spongy, it’s not as responsive as it might have been a few years ago, but it’s cheap. We drive to Lyttleton and Sumner on the coast, stop for coffee and a quick stroll along the beach before heading east to Akaroa where we find the hostel we’ve booked. Only we’re not booked. According to the girl with the list, that is. So we have a quick look online to make sure we’ve got the right place, and find an email form the hostel saying that they can’t fit us in.
Luckily the girl is really helpful and, after confirming that we had a car, she calls her friend at a hostel up the road. We’re in luck and follow the directions given to us. 2km along the road it starts to wind uphill. Another 2km the road gives way to a track. We have to stop to let some sheep cross the road, and after another 2 km we struggle up to a gate which has a sign saying ‘Onuku Farm Hostel Ahead’. We meet Kristen, a German girl working at the hostel who shows us the main house – kitchen, lounge, showers – before leading us through three fields and down a hill to our room. She shows us the toilets, which are in the next field down the hill, before leaving us to it. We stand on the veranda and look at the view across Akaroa. It’s outstanding. We must be a couple of thousand metres above sea level, halfway up the side of a mountain, and the harbour sits in an old volcano crater. We can see all round the harbour, as well as the snow capped mountain tops opposite. It’s almost worth the fact that we have to walk five minutes to the toilet and 10 minutes to the shower.
We drive back into town to get the food that we should have bought on the way to the farm, go back, fall asleep, cook, chat with Steve the owner and book a Dolphin Cruise for the next day.
We’re up at 6.45am the next morning to make sure we get to the main house on time for the trip. There are 6 people altogether, 4 of which are going to swim (including Michelle) and 2 of which are just watching from the boat (including me). We meet Jeff, Steve’s dad, owner of the farm, and captain for the day before the swimmers are kitted out and we head down to the Mauri village by the harbour to wade out to the boat.
We spend three hours out in the harbour, head out to sea, see loads of Hector dolphins (the smallest type and local to New Zealand), but the swimmers didn’t really get a chance to swim with them as they seem to be quite shy today (the dolphins, not the swimmers). The thing is, I would happily have paid the money for the boat ride itself, and simply seeing the dolphins close to the boat was a bonus.
We get back to our hut and I fall asleep for five hours, making up for the lack of sleep over the last few nights, and we cook before sitting in the lounge chatting with Steve, Kristen, an American and a Dutch guy.
By 2.00am we’re sitting outside our room watching the rain while listening to it crash down on the roof of our room. I’m worried that our car, which is parked in a field opposite, will be stuck in the mud. Neither of us really gets any sleep, so we pack up early, watch the sun lose a fight with the fog which means that the view as we leave is non-existent.
We phone Mum to wish her a happy birthday from the hostel, while peacocks wander past, and take the track back down the mountain very carefully before driving 6 hours across New Zealand to Lake Wanaka. It’s a beautiful, beautiful place, with a lake surrounded by mountains, and our hostel has a lounge with big picture window overlooking the lake. We only have one night booked here, and after a quick walk around the town we decide to change plans, not drive any further south and stay in Wanaka a bit longer.
The only problem is that the hostel doesn’t have space for us. It’s the middle of summer, and it’s like trying to extend your stay in St Ives, Cornwall – most places will be booked up. Most places that is. The Visitors Centre finds us a room just down the road at a place called ‘Fern Lodge’, which we can’t find in any books or websites we’ve used to book accommodation. This might explain why they have a room.
We eat out and wander back to our first choice hostel. As we walk in, the large lounge looks like it’s been set by a director ready for a movie – every demographic covered, everyone talking, playing cards and board games, reading, drinking coffee, and even the kitchen is a hive of activity, as if ‘action’ has been called. The bed is big and comfortable.
The next morning we leave the hostel reluctantly, thinking that planning ahead sometimes has its benefits, and drive to Queenstown. There are two roads at our disposal (two roads! In New Zealand!), and we choose the longer but flatter way to go, planning on using the other twisty but shorter way to come back to Wanaka.
It takes just over an hour, and as we emerge from the multistory car-park, the first thing we see is 5 students, all with backpacks, and all carrying crates of beer. Maybe we did the right thing not staying here. The town itself seems very nice, and there is a choice of classy looking cafes to relax in after we’ve completed the walking tour of the town, the harbour, the CD shop (only three this time) and we sit and watch as people throw themselves off the top of the nearest mountain with parachutes and float down to the town.
There is shop after shop selling extreme ‘sports’ to willing backpackers including bungy jumps, sky jumps, quad bike safaris, 4x4 safaris, star jumps, base jumps, kayak safaris, jetboat trips, paraglide safari trips, and probably some bizarre combination of any of the above. We keep walking. Queenstown is a nice little village, with a ski lodge kind of thing going on, but we decide we are glad we’re not staying there as we walk back to the car, past a hostel as a bunch of posh English backpackers called Josh and Seb (probably) rush past shouting at each other.
We go back the twisty route, which turns out to be very twisty and find the Fern Lodge Hostel back in Wanaka. Our room is in a house just down the road from the actual hostel, and we meet Giles and Tommy, brothers who are sharing one of the other rooms while their house is remodelled. Giles has just helped his friend run the yearly South Island mad run-across-the-whole-island race (yes, I forgot what it’s actually called), so Michelle chats with him while we cook.
Wanaka has a quirky cinema, so we walk to it to see “No Country for Old Men”. The place is quite small and furnished with old sofas, sells home-made cookies and organic beer, and stops the film halfway through for a break. We go and sit down by the lake on the way back, and even in the dark it’s beautiful.
We wake late the next day, and have brekky in the hotel kitchen with Sam and Alfie, who are in the other room in the house. Sam is an English girl, Alfie is Austrian, and they are travelling together having met in Auckland. Alfie’s friend, Conrad, who is travelling with them, turns up having been camping down the road, and we spend the rest of the morning chatting about where we have all been and where we’re going.
They all go off to Queenstown, and we go to Puzzleworld, about 10 km out of Wanaka, to attack the maze. After wandering around for ages we finally find our way out, and we have a look around inside at the optical illusions before heading back to the hostel to cook lunch. We have a lazy afternoon writing, reading and then go for a walk around the shops, where I buy a watch, and we have gourmet veggie burgers, a couple of beers and head for our bed.
One thing I haven’t written about yet is music. We haven’t seen a lot of live music, but we have a lot of radio hours under our belt, and have bought our clutch of CDs based on what we’ve heard in both Australia and New Zealand.
Our favourite so far is a band called The Cat Empire, who we heard on the radio and then through Jot Nick and Kylie. We have the new CD in the car, and it’s receiving heavy rotation. Vying for play time is Ben Lee’s newie, called ‘Ripe’, Ben Harper’s newie, and a compilation from Fiona in Melbourne. Of course she didn’t have time to give us a song list, so we have no idea who we are listening to, but we like a big chunk of it.
I know I’m getting a bit behind with these blogs, but I promise to catch up soon. I have notes for each day, but it’s a struggle to find time to sit inside writing when there is so much to see and do outside. By the time we get home I’ll only be a couple of weeks behind, and I will finish… before it finishes me…
No comments:
Post a Comment