hanging out with the parrots

Te Anua is a relaxing place to be after all the excitement of Queenstown. My leg was healing, and we were thinking of either doing the Milford Track or some other. Ideally, we wanted to do the Milford Track. Described in National Geographic as the best walk on the planet, or something similar, and reckoned to be a rite of passage for most New Zealanders, it was obvious that we shoud at least give it a go.

The weather hadnt been particularly kind lately and it was becoming a wet blanket on a lot of activities. The plan to do the Milford Track became its latest victim. Due to the season, many of the bridges had been removed and the DOC huts were without gas. That wasnt our main concern, due the greater inconvenience of the avalanche risk in the area. I guess we could have ignored them and goen ahead anyway, but maybe its best to wait for when the weather is good.

Instead we plumped to do part of the Kepler Track. Again, once into the mountains, the avalanche risk becomes to great to proceed further, so we contented ourselves with the trip up to the first hut. This could be done in a day, there and back if you have a light load, but we wanted to spend one night away from the village. Its cheaper for one, and I like the outdoors living.

Its a long slog up the hill, tramping through an ever changing forest scenery, catching glimpses of the view as we climb. The lunch stop at the Bluffs took longer than I thought and I think Cathy was getting bored of my comments like, "Its just around the next corner", and "Its can only be another one or two hundred metres". After another hour we reached the Bluff and had lunch. It was about 3 o'clock and we started thinking that we should have really got up earlier.

Another hour or so through different forest and we reached the tree line. Its hardly surprising, but as you climb the vegetation changes. From almost rainforest to fern-filled forest to a pine mix, without ferns at all. Then the grass and moss scrub of alpine country. The scenery opens out in front of you and you see the harshly glacier-sculptured landscape of fjordland in all its rough glory. There isnt anybody about, no electricity, no mobile phone masts, pylons, rubbish, noise except the wind.

Another 45 minutes and we made the hut, got comfy and had a cup of tea. There was a Danish guy at the hut as well, but considering the hut can sleep 50 or more, it was deserted. While we were cooking dinner, some strange calls were heard, and a shadow moved in the moonlight on the decking outside. We opened a window and had a nice meeting with a Kea. These alpine parrots, the only alpine parrots in the world, are supposedly very intelligent. I dont know about intelligent, but they are inquisitive.

I went to fill up my water bottle and one was waiting for me outside. I placed the metal water bottle on the ground and as it 'tinged' the parrot came up and had a nose around. It tried carrying the bottle away, and kept tapping the bottle to make it ring. Like the dolphins, hanging around with intelligent creatures is maybe not spiritual but certainly entertaining. Seeing as the cold was getting to everyone, I lit a roaring inferno of a fire. Greatly appreciated by everyone I think you'll find, including the Kea.

The wind picked up that night, so much so that we could feel the hut move. I think the Kea got blown away in the night. By morning we were depressed as the weather had closed in and the wind was just as bad. A lie in 'till 12 meant we could at least give it a chance to improve, which it did, so we finished our breakfast/lunch/loafing and legged it back down the hill. This was after exploring the Luxmore caves, where we found amazing artifacts from early mans history. Probably.

The rain soon came back and we got back to the hostel, Te Anau Backpackers in town, had some food and very quickly went to sleep.

The next morning saw us stiff and tired, but realising we had to rush a little bit as Cathy was starting to run out of time. I hired some snow chains, filled up and drove to Milford Sound. Along the road were some fascinating places, such as 10 mile bush, flat knob creek and kiosk river. We got to Milford Sound and decided to hop on one of the boat trips. It was the perfect time to see Milford as while the weather was bad, the waterfalls were everywhere, making it all very picturesque. We stopped off at the marine reserve on the way back which was interesting. Due to the huge amounts of freshwater coming into the Sound, deep sea animals come to the surface as they are tricked by the visibility.

After thinking about staying the night in Milford and realising it might not be worth it, we drove back to Te Anau and then onwards to Queenstown. We have to pass this way to see the west coast.

Since the Southern Laughter hostel was a no-no, Cathy did the books and went for Hippo Lodge. Now THIS was a nice place. Spacious clean kitchen, clean towels on the bed, with a little chocolate hippo on the towels. I met a Kiwi lady who was showing a Nepalese Sherpa the sights of New Zealand. The views over Queenstown were well worth the stay at Hippo lodge on its own, but I wish we had stayed here before instead of Southern Laughter.

strength and honour

Wednesday 18th was meant to be our skydiving day, but there was a bad storm. While it was very windy in Wanaka (sounds like a good name for a first album), it was dropping 1.5 metres of snow on the hills. Too windy for skydiving and too snowy for skiing.

We decided it was time to make a move; we had skiied, drunk coffee at nice places (Fusion), tried to skydive, gone walking, and stared for hours at Lake Wanaka. The most obvious destination was Queenstown. We checked out, late as always, from the Purple Cow. Despite it being quite a nice hostel, I felt decidedly underdressed compared to the Japanese snowboarders who looked SOOOO COOOOOL! I might as well have been wearing flecked trousers and luminous socks compared to the bleeding-edge fashion of these snow warriors.

I rang up 'Southern Laughter' hostel. There might have been some laughter at some point in time, but it had long since passed along with dry rooms and a clean kitchen. We were in the outbuilding along with the people who work there, and when they arent working they are getting very pissed and getting to know each other intimately on the sofa in the lounge. I might not have minded if I hadnt been woken by the loud drunken conversations or have to sit in the soggy patch when I had my breakfast in the morning. Actually, there was no soggy patch, as I interrupted mid-coitus in the night when I need the loo. The dribbling but sheepish couple had faces red enough to glow in the dark. I was happy.

Generally though, I think Queenstown is overrated, full of kids wanting to be cool but not knowing how to go about it, and assuming spending money on cRaZy activities will help. Me, I plumped for the Nevis highwire, and the jetboating, as I think that will make me cool. Unfortunately the jetboating was off as all the rivers were swollen.

We made up for it in Q'town by eating and drinking well. There are some cool cafe's and eateries. 'Vudu' did some very nice pastries and cakes, while 'The Cow' on Cow Lane (or Cow La as Cathy wanted to call it) does excellent pizzas, and if you ask for some bread to start with, you get a loaf, a WHOLE loaf, freshly baked, with butter, an EC mountain of it. Cathy also did an awesome meal of roast veg with roast nuts and sesame seeds served with pitta, aoili, red pepper humous, garlic mushrooms and couscous.

This helped settle me down for the day of the big bad bungy. This was a fairly sleepless night, what with fear and drunk people and noise and rain and a full stomach. I awoke crotchety, tired and not very eager to do the jump. We checked out at Southern Laughter (hahahahahhaha. not) and went to the AJ Hackett office. There, others were stood, looking nervous or backslapping each other in fake bravado.

The coach arrived and the assortment of idiots got on board. An American, some english, including a foolish girl from R.A.M.C., some koreans, including a very brave girl, and an Irish couple. Everyone had the grin of fear on their face, myself included. After a 4 wheel drive up the hill we caught our first glimse of the contraption. The Gondola is suspended by four wire cables over a canyon. A small trolly takes you out to the gondola then the preparations begin. The cuffs are put on then you watch the first few jumpers. Its a long way down and their screams fade quickly as they descend. It came to be my turn, and I sit in the comfy chair so they can attach the bungy. One of the guys plays with you, in the sense of testing your resolve, and playing mind games. His buddy mentions it might time to revamp the rope, which I smiled and tried to look relaxed about. Like a lamb to the slaughter. I have to say a few words for the tape which I do. Nothing profound, "I havent done anything wrong ever! Its not my time!" Then I jump.

I thought, really thought I was going to die. I screamed but then couldnt. The only sound was of rushing wind. I kept falling, it felt like an eternity, and I could see the ground coming to meet me but it wasnt going to shake hands. Then the wind stops and your body relaxes a little. Your ankles try to swell up to make sure you dont fall through the cuffs, but then the elation at having missed a messy demise coarses through your veins along with the adrenalin that has been released in unethical corporation sized amounts. Only then did I start feeling the pain caused by a missing lump from my shin. The bungy clip and flicked and hit my shin, causing a considerable amount of pain. Ahhh, the buzz of dangerous sports.

The rest of the day was a blur, and I didnt notice the face of the bloke who was staring at me, only that I was ready for a fight. It turns out he remembers me and after a bit of prompting I remember him. It was Shannon, from my old cadet unit. He remembers Colour Emmett, while I have to admit to only remembering a small boy in a badly fitting uniform. I certainly found it hard to recognise the bloke who was taller than me, wearing a beard and yak coat, scarf and some kind of ethnic beanie.

We had a good chat and caught up on the Eastleigh gossip. he was with a friend from Boyatt Wood, that bastion of middle-class in the railway terraced last century museum that is Eastleigh. It was very very strange to bump into someone I know at the end of the world, but even stranger when I had blood made of rocket fuel and lumps missing from my leg.

I need less of this excitement. I got Cathy on the insurance as I was a bit of a liability, and she drove my battered tingly body to Te Anau, for some peace and quiet.

too much snow

Mount Cook has a very small village at the foot of it. The views are comparable to being an ant in 50 metre high white sand dunes. That doesnt work either. The glaciers bring boulders down the hillside, the hills are carved as easily as cheese, the air is so clean it feels like it was made fresh that morning, the mountains so intimidating that they would suffice as a fortress.

The YHA in Mount Cook village is lovely, built in an alpine style, with a sauna, TV lounge, great kitchen and amazing views from the rooms. We met up with an Irish couple that had been staying at Vagabonds in Christchurch, and also attempted a couple of walks. The previous snowfall had made walking dangerous and many tracks were closed due to avalanche risk. This was to be a recurring theme over the next few weeks, but it didnt stop ius this day from walking up to a good viewpoint along a valley up to Mount Cook.

After the stroll, we got going and headed to Wanaka. Its a quiet town on the south end of a large lake. The lake itself doglegs, so you only see part of it. There was a problem on arriving; again down to the snow, there wasnt any room in any hostel or most motels as skiers and snowboarders had turned up for the fresh powder. We hunted high and low until we found a place with room and we had to resort to Lakeview Motel. This ended up being an excellent compromise. We had a veranda, and a studio flat, with TV, small sweet kitchen and amazing views, definitely better than those in town and we got the evening light while the rest of town had slipped into darkness far earlier.

We got aquainted with the town, and saw what there was to do. Skiing, which has never really appealed to me, appeared on the menu. Skydiving also made an appearance. We booked the skydiving and rang about the skiing. Skydiving for the sunday and skiing was organised for Monday and Tuesday. In the end the skydiving here was called off; another recurring theme. Instead we paid a visit to the Warbirds museum and the Puzzle town. Both on the outskirts of town, the former is a museum storing WWII planes and the latter is a collection of puzzles including optical illusions and a very very very large maze. I fell over in the optical illusion room and it could have happenned to anyone. There was a room full of holograms which were ok, but there was an optical illusion room with moulded heads of famous people. It meant their eyes really did follow you around the room, and surprisingly the image that was the most disturbing was Mother Theresa. I never thought I would get to say that she was disturbing, but Einstein, Churchill, Mandela and Beethoven were a joy to see compared to her.

The roast lamb cooked that evening was surprisingly good considering the size of the oven. I think Barbie had been the previous owner. We needed the feed as the next two days of skiing was energy intensive.

Our first lesson on the Monday was with a Maori skiier; you cant have preconceptions in this place. He was great and very relaxed. I seemed to go ok, while Cathy having skiied before, brushed up and was used as the model for us. b*(&%. The afternoon lesson was with another very relaxed guy, american, and looked far too cool. By the end of Monday I could snow plough, sorry wedgie, and wedgie turn. Whats more I LIKED it. I never thought I would say it, considering those Ski Sunday shows of past on BBC showing dreary downhill skiing had put me off. Its great, but I had started having a sense of humour failure when I got bored of falling over, especially at the top of the ski lift.

Tuesday was far better as I tried different runs and had a couple of runs where I DIDNT FALL OVER! Things were going well.

true blue

Cathy has arrived and having someone to travel with would not doubt be interesting. We are staying in Vagabonds, a hostel on Worcester St in Christchurch. The first few days were spent relaxing and allowing Cathy to get over jet lag. The obligatory punting trip was done, powered by a particularly humerous punter, or at least I think thats what he was called. His patter was good and while we cruised up and down the river he gave a guided tour in both English and Japanese. While I was impressed with his multilingual capabilities, his Kiwi accent on Japanese would have allowed him to play in Star Wars, with "kiwanofuji Jabba nosha" and "Skywalker campai no kaywa bimo moshi no Jedi" seemed to be two of his popular phrases

when describing the architecure of Christchurch.

Seeing as the weather was good, we had a walk round the botanic gardens, plus drinking, getting my boots repaired seeing as they dont make Boots Combat High like they used to, and staring at maps for hours saying things like "Well, we could drive there" then having a cup of tea and forgetting about "there".

Once a few sights were exhausted and knowing that Cathy didnt have a lot of time in New Zealand, we packed and left and drove to Lake Tekapo. Its a fair drive, but we stopped off at a few towns along the way, mainly to go to the toilet, drink tea or get some petrol. Hardly riveting but it passes the time.

By the time we arrived at Lake Tekapo it was dark and we struggled to find the YHA, particularly if you drive to fast and miss the 'town' completely. Down by the lake, we enter the YHA and were met by, nobody. There wasnt anyone behind the counter, so I investigate round the back and get accosted by Jim and his dog. Apparently this dog is a man eater; many backpackers have been lost due to the vicious streak and we were castigated for disturbing this dangerous animal.

Jim, the dogs worried owner is an old gentle spoken Scotsman, who we had originally thought it to be a lost cause for trying to befriend, especially after the initial dog-centred introduction, but Cathy and I played tag team friendship with him. He was an ex para and despite his years (60+) continued to skydive; he had loved his time in the Army and it had given him an interest in travel. I moved back and let Cathy go onto him with her knowledge of Scotland. In the end he kept coming back for more, and opened up without hesitation. He was learning Japanese, and loved living in New Zealand, and we were both glad we met Jim.

While our social skills were being put to use on Jim, we thought it best to exercise by climbing Mount John. This affords some of the best views of Lake Tekapo. Its difficult to walk when you are glued to the vision that is below you, and the lake is quite breathtaking. Its a similar blue to a lagoon, caused by rock flour suspended in the water. This rock flour is brought down in the streams from glaciers. I learnt that on a poster in the hostel, so I suppose it must be true. Whatever, the lake doesnt look real.

The second morning we awoke to find that snow had been dumped around the lake, reducing colours still further. Instead of green and brown hills with snowy peaks, surrounding a blue lake and clear blue sky, there was white hills, blue lake blue sky. Thats it. Breathtaking. Cant describe it. There isnt any point. I saw it and its in my head. My brain wasnt able to cope with a few that had so few colours in it.

We paid a little visit to the old church by the edge of the lake. Its a very pretty church but I was starting to feel the graveyard wasnt big enough to bury the coach loads of loud tourists crawling like ants over the scenery. The working dog monument is nearby and an indicator of how rural a community New Zealand is, where the working dog is held in such high esteem.

Onwards and southwards to lunch by Lake Pukaki, a slightly less blue cousin of Lake Tekapo. We found the proper picnic spot, but again the coaches had ejaculated the demented hords of cramped tourists. We backtracked, and found a gravel track down to the lake and brewed up a cup of tea. Ahhh, peace.

Once we had absorbed the scenery a little more we headed to Mount Cook.

madness, absolute madness

This mornings cup of coffee just didnt hit the spot. I guess after yesterdays relaxation I needed a bit more of a kick. This was easily resolved by ringing 'Thrillseekers Canyon' who happen to dabble in a bit of bungy jumping. Why not? I had a relaxing day yesterday in the Springs at Hanmer, and the bungy is on the way out of town, and Im going to Christchurch.

I didnt think it would take much in the way of courage. The handing over of $100NZ wasnt too painful, the terrace view of the bridge that crosses the canyon didnt really fill me with too much trepidation, the walk to the aformentioned bridge that I would be later jumping off wasnt filled with dread although I felt a slight connection with members of the French royal family who had walked to the guillotine. I became slightly more nervous when stood on the edge of the platform, feeling the weight of the bungy cord between my feet and peered over the edge, but I still had the smile on my face.

That all changed when the ever such nice chap told me to jump off the bridge. I did, I screamed. I shouted, "Holy fucking cow". Im sorry, thats all I could think of, and it was completely spontaneous. I wanted to shout, "Kamikaze" or quote some poetry, but instead my brain had lost all sensation of the rest of my body and I was facing death. My brain rebelled and squirmed its way to my feet to get away from the fast approaching ground, and my feet had somehow found hands and were holding on to the ankle straps.

Oh yeah the view of the gorge was great, I love rocks and will become a geologist.

I write this the day after Cathy has arrived and she has found a 134m bungy in a town called Cromwell. This stamps all over the 35m jump I did at Hanmer Springs. She wants to film and no doubt study my reaction, as she is curious what my initial words will be as I fall, thinking there is some automatic language response to fear and feels that my reaction might provide some valuable insight. Me, Im crapping myself, and Im afraid the 'F' word will make an important contribution during my 8 seconds of freefall that is available at this 134 metre beast. To put into context, its taller than most buildings in Canary Wharf being equivalent to about 40 storeys. This is just stupid. 8 seconds, thats a book, a biscuit or a blokes phone call. These are all much more productive than jumping again.

One is not amused, or at least the majority of my neurons arent. There is one stupid one at the back going "Yes YES YESSSS, JUMP JUMP JUMP! JUMP!". Im trying not to listen to it, but its got a loud voice. We should get to Cromwell in a week or so. What joy.

the nanny

A gentle day today. I drove to Hanmer Springs, a hot springs town (hence the name McFly) inland from Christchurch and Kaikura, but between the two towns, so an ideal place to stop. Im taking a very sedate route through the South Island, and finding it to be the most stimulating and least stressful way.

I got there after a gentle drive through the hills and arrived just after lunch, finishing off the last of my Morrocan mess stew. I had plenty of time and the weather was sunny, so I wandered to the hot pools. The pools are large, hot and all smell of sulphur, especially the sulphur pools. Funny that. Its warm, bubbly, relaxing and beautiful. The place is landscaped like a random wild swimming pool; a number of rock pools are linked by gushing hot spring water, 3 hexagonal hot pools are arranged outside the changing area, designed for warming up, the sulphur pools are off to one side and a lot hotter than the other pools, and raised, overing a view of the whole area. Steam slowly rises from these, and the water overflows to the next pool and

the pool after that. This is all cheesy but it knows it.

I think this was the first bath I have had in months, and certainly the most luxurious I have had in years.

The town of Hanmer Springs also seems to be the ideal place for business conferences, as the majority of people at the hostel were staying for just that. They all worked for 'The Warehouse', a national bargain hypermarket in NZ, and decided that the best thing to do before the conference was to play drinking games the evening before. Sounds good, especially if Im invited, which I was.

After a couple of hours though, I really had to eat, and if you stop drinking, you dont really start again, especially if they had moved on to spirits. That left me talking to . . .

The Nanny

The Nanny has been the worst person I have encountered so far. The theives I never encountered, immigration staff are just doing their job, pissed kids in hostels are just having fun, alcoholic managers in hostels have issues that are their own problems that only they can solve, but Mrs Nanny was no Mary Poppins. I was so angry after meeting her that I wrote about her in my journal.

"A displeasing face; this was my first impression. This was someone who, while enjoyed travelling, did not learn anything from anyone on her journey."

"I have never enjoyed listening to a story that begins 'I have a great interest in my hobbie blah blah'. This to my ears sounds like, 'I am trying to impress you with my wide range of skills and know you will be suitably impressed' when in fact they really want to say 'I dont think I have a very interesting life, so I will dress it up so you might like me'". Plus why call it a hobby? If you collect stamps you dont say " I have an

interesting hobby of collecting the labels used to notify the postal service that one has paid for carriage."

The melodramtic raise of eyebrows to convey shock or to indicate to the recipient of her monologue that now was an appropriate moment to exhibit a gasp or nod in agreement with The Nanny and her opinion. These eyebrows covered critical eyes, yet they werent perceptive enough to watch the boredom creep across my face, only show a look of disgust as I rebelled and showed an opinion opposite to that which was correct. ie hers.

Conceited, blindly ignorant to her own ignorance, a person who pointed, not just to indicate, but there was venom in her veins as she held the gesture, she made disparaging comments on her travelling companion, she patronised, interrupted, criticised, corrected and gave education where none was wanted. Being the polite sort I bit my tongue but you ever think of employing a nanny, she is ideal if you are looking to crush the spirit of your children and for them to suffer inadequacy complexes throughout the whole of their life. Her arrogance and narrowmindedness was poisonous, and no matter how hard I tried, which was more than she did, I could never see her point of view.

There is more, but I think I got a little carried away. Hanmer springs is a nice town though, and the YHA I stayed at is clean but lacks character, apart from the one I met.

flipper and me are like THAT

I guess you could say it was a nice day today. I was a little lazy and Dave who runs TopSpot backpackers rang "Dolphin Encounters" for me, and booked on the 1pm trip. Dave is a top guy and worth staying at Topspot just to see his vinyl collection. The view from the lounge is breathtaking as it takes in the town of Kaikura, the blue water in the bay, and the snowy peaks of the Kaikura range.

I walked down the hill into Kaikura high street, after a bit more kauri bowl polishing, and went into the Dolphin place, got the wetsuit, undersuit, hood, bootees, gloves and fins. Something tells me the sea is a bit cold here. About 25 of us sit in for the briefing, followed shortly by climbing aboard the bus which takes us to the two boats at the wharf.

After about 30 minutes sailing and listening to radio chatter, we pinpoint one group of dolphins. There were two groups of Dusky Dolphins, 500 heading south very quickly, about another 20 minutes away, and 200 fairly close by. Time meant that we went for the smaller closer group and it was thought they might go south anyway, as the dolphins were moving away from a pod (i think) of Orca coming from the north.

We spotted them not long after and tried to catch their attention. Singing, diving and trying to make eye contact does the trick. They swim past you, leap from the water, circle you, play diving games with you, circle you some more, play with you, and you wonder why anyone would want to hunt them or hurt them. Dolphins are cool. They play, eat fish, have sex, swim, jump out of the water, play around, have large families, hang out with their mates, and they are interested in humans as long as the humans dont swallow sea water accidentally and throw up in the sea.

I was sick all the way back to harbour, along with a tough looking but green aussie and a big american. My lunch of Maltesers and saltwater hadnt done the job, but it hadnt spoilt the day or year. Dolphins are great, dolphins are lovely and they are my friends. They just dont find me interesting for long.

The countryside here is worthy of a good explore. The Department of Conservation (DOC) look after the national parks, and there is one near Nelson called Abel Tasman, after the explorer. Its the smallest national park but it has one of the great walks in; a coastal walk that is set along the granite hills following the coastline, with the occasional foray into the rainforest interior.

I had been wanting to do some proper tramping and had got my chance. I planned to walk over three days, taking the inland track first, as it was harder and I expected some good views. I wzas rewarded well for my efforts and also knew that I had planned to make the following days a lot easier allowing myself to enjoy the stroll more. The DOC provides huts which you can book in advance or pay on the day, although the latter doesnt always guarantee you a bed if busy and there is a surcharge. The huts have bunks, a heater and a cooking area, filtered water (as there is giardia in the river water) and cold showers. This was far more luxury than I was expecting so I appreciated it.

I appreciated the crystal clear skies, the loneliness during the day as you would rarely encounter anyone for hours, the beauty of the scenery, the silence apart from birdsong and the sound of wind in the trees, the warmth of the sun which led me to lay like a lizard on a boulder to soak it in, the feel of the ocean as it sooths your weary feet in the evening, and the sharpness of the shower in the morning before you set off.

Alone with your thoughts in a beautiful place was a wonderful thing to do, and I hope to be doing more of it.

When I returned to Nelson I checked my mail and double checked the time that Cathy was coming to visit. Another good experience is tramping with someone, and being able to share the load of cooking stoves, food, water etc, plus being able to ignore people when you want as you have someone else to talk to. Not that I had needed to often, but it will be a refreshing break. Like seeing trev and Maria, its also bloody good spending time with friends, and for all the fun meeting new people, spending time with mates is good.

It could become a habit though, what with Daryls wedding in December, the London quiz masters visiting Melbourne in October and Ed wanting to dive the Great Barrier Reef sometime while Im in Australia. It doesnt get much better than this, meeting cool new people and meeting up with old.