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.

from the south of the north to the north of the south

Moving on is always a curious thing. Staying at Stillwater Lodge in Mana was lovely. A very friendly German couple, Anja and Tom, have taken over the running of the place only recently, but I still think they be able to keep the 95% BBH rating that the hostel has already earnt. Tom and I played pool until about midnight, then I drove down to the docks, after being breathalysed outside the hostel. The Police are pretty strict for drink driving as its a major problem here. As you drive along a road you see both wilting and fresh flowers adorning many many crosses; a provoking sight.

I got to the harbour at 12, for the 0130 ferry. Its early but cheap, but that doesnt really matter as its cancelled. I sleep in the car at the docks, being careful not to park on the train tracks that criss-cross the tarmac. I can see the headlines, "Semi naked tourist escapes after car crushed at docks", "And we go to Paul Mileg at the docks who has some amateur footing . . ".

All ferries are cancelled on Tuesday.

Earliest ferry I can catch is Wednesday night. It'll have to do, but I wasnt planning to be this long in Wellington. Saying that, despite not wanting to spend any more time in big towns, Welly is alright. I like it. It has a buzz about it. Some of the people can be a bit snotty and some a little pretentious, but the woman who did the BEST homemade humous in Courtney, she was COOL, and the cafe espressoholic or something does excellent salads.

I had to sleep and wash somewhere so Tuesday afternoon I checked into Rosemere, ( I think it was named such ) or maybe Rowena, but its the other hostel on Brougham Street. Crap kitchen, good paintwork, cold rooms, but off-street parking. They also have very nice showers.

All I want to do is cross into the south island though, and Im fustrated. I go and see "24 hour party people" and think its a good film, but wish I'd had the bottle to stand up and dance during the film, as that is what needs to be done. It has one of the best soundtracks I have heard in a long time, but then thats because its from my yoof.

Im still waiting for the ferry, but passing time by reading, eating, sleeping. Eventually I wander down the docks on Wednesday night, after ringing to check they are running. We wait some more; the ships are delayed, the weather is still bad but the crossing will happen. I watch "About a Boy" on the ferry, trying to kill more time until I get to Picton and SEE things in the south.

Im the last car off the ferry, is someone trying to tell me I should have stayed on the north Island? Fortunately I had already booked through to "the Villa". I think Carol Smilie would call this a "delightful little ornately carved wooden victorian house". It is so I wont argue with her. There is an open courtyard, lit by white xmas lights ,centred by a large open stove, a spa pool in the corner, and large patio doors off to the dorms. Im given hot apple crumble and ice-cream when I arrive which is lovely. They had golden nuggets of something in the crumble and I never did swap recipes so I suppose I will never know what they were. There was a free breakfast in the morning, and apart from it having some of the hottest, strongest showers, warmest rooms, comfiest beds, beautiful house and close proximity to the hostel make it one of the best places I have stayed in.

I leave early in the morning and take the coast road to Nelson. This is far more picturesque than the main road, plus I get to see some of Marlborough Sounds, which is idyllic. Im staying in the Travellers Arms hostel. I think. I cant remember, as I spent about an hour choosing a place. I should go for the first one, but I dont want some large rambling hostel, I want to be able to wash clothes as, like all stupid backpackers, I seem to have a fixation with the small things. These are.

• Laundry
• Warm Rooms
• Clean comfy beds
• Big Kitchens with lots of plates, pans, fridges and storage space
• thousands of dancing girls
• hot powerful showers
• a comfy chair/hammock to read a book in

The hostel I have found has all of the above with the exception of dancing girls, but it does have both many comfy chairs AND a hammock, a South American one at that, it also has a nice fire, a huge clean kitchen, and only a few bunk beds. Is this whats important to me now? I used to be concerned with deadlines, council tax bills, customer meetings, latest CDs to come out, which is the best pub that month in Brighton, trying to go to the gym, and trying out a new wine from Oddbins. Its all different. I like it.